No, Sorry, I Don’t Think It’s Awesome

By Andrew Coorey on January 17, 2014 in Other

That bloody Sculpture by the Sea, is mostly crap if you ask me
The tricked up plastic, metal shapes, are dodgy icing on the capes

Of South Bondi and Tamarama, I should take to them with a hammer
And surely they would not be missed, if I went with a dozer, pissed

And pushed them all into the brine, and paid someone a massive fine
For commandeering council gear, while brain is coursing through with beer

But seriously, who’d complain, if I relieved us of this pain
Of people who have come to gawk, congesting Sydney’s favourite walk

By stopping short like taxi cabs, traversing it like drunken crabs
Each Monday I restore my mood, and balance all the wine and food

By starting out at Bondi North, and shuffling, jogging, running forth
To Bronte and Macpherson Street, then up and down, repeat, repeat

With proper music in the phones, Cold Chisel or the Rolling Stones
The Killers for a turbocharge, The Jam or U2 looming large

‘Til lungs are spent and legs are slack, and then I shuffle northwards, back
Through people walking without aim, the hapless punters who I blame

For underwriting this shit-fight, which clogs the path from morn ’til night
Two steps forward, one step back, “Watch yourself there, watch your back”

Someone once wrote they’d never see, a poem as lovely as a tree
And so it goes with 3D art, it clearly cannot even start

To match up with the natural gifts, the ocean light, the tidal shifts
The rise and fall of moon and sun, alter the scene for every run

The changing winds, the changing swell, no visitor can ever tell
Just which coastline is on today, it shows itself in its own way

There’s all that’s natural, real and true, and more than 40 shades of blue
And none of these improved one bit, by self-indulgent new age shit

So put your sculpture, bronze or brass, into the metaphoric arse
Of town, some suburb where, they don’t have ocean vistas there

And leave our cliffs please not augmented, looking just how God intended.