Monoculture

Golden fields of wheat

Stretch out around us,

Enveloping the car in a sense of dread. 

At least, it envelopes me.

A nation built on agriculture.  

Millions of rows of crops fly past,

a dark lie woven into every gleaming stalk.

This heart of Australian identity, is a poison.

Monoculture.

Row after row of single crop.

Its brutal efficiency doesn’t stack up

against its own innate disadvantages.

Multiple species of plants and animals thriving together?

No. Monoculture is best.

Pests gorge on the crops,

With no predator to deter them.

The answer: pesticides!

The victims: Bees, Birds and Babies!

Monoculture:

A cog in a ruthless machine hell-bent on our destruction.