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 We all feel the burn of anger, outrage and patriotism these days. 
The heat of frustration. 
The passion that sometimes leads us to hate what we love. ...our Nation... yet love it we do. 
We are Patriots. And we will always be so.  We just need to know that our country says ": Back at you. ":  We need our Governments to love our Nations as much as We, the People, do.

One night, about a year ago, I was listening to a song. It was late. Dark, quiet and unpleasantly humid. Hot and a forerunner to that hot and humid Queensland summer that only someone who lives here can identify with:  lying in sweat on familiar sheets in a brick veneer on financed beds…

My bed was not financed but I heard something that night: the rumble of old Australia. That time I got out of bed and went to my computer. I registered patriotrealm.com and started writing. I haven’t stopped since.

I came here as a migrant. I am not a Native Australian nor am I Queensland born. But I have lived here a very long time and my adopted country is much like adoptive parents: I love my real parent, New Zealand, but I acknowledge the love that Queensland has shown me.

What spurred me to write? To start this site? It was love for Queensland..

This harsh land, this land of humidity, sweat, thunder, lightening and canefields.

 

I could not continue to sit silent and lament the death of Australia. The theft of Australia. The purge of Australian identity. The death of my beloved State of Queensland. 

I love this State. This hot, sunny, sweaty, blokey bloke wonderful State of Queensland. 

So I, and others, have written,  lamented, celebrated, mourned and outraged at the loss of our National and State Identity because we have been taken over by those who do not realise that they will sweat and never watch lightening over cane fields because this is no longer Australia.No longer Queensland. 

The loonies from Brisbane have taken over. Bugger the rest of us. 

Australia is now a multicultural melting pot of China, India, Pakistan, Syria and who knows what other cultures… we are no longer the Nation of grit and grime; hard work and tenacity.

We are now a Nation of climate change activists, communist Soros infiltrators and leftie luvvies living in cities who have never seen a cane field… and never likely to.

This Nation, in such a short period of time, has transgressed into a bigoted and divided Nation on one hand – and a Nation wanting normality on the other. Much like America.

And our State hood is becoming more marked. We are becoming divided.  A Nation Divided. 

I have often said that Australia is the Southern Hemisphere equivalent of America. I hesitate to call it the United States of America because United it is not.

We are both Nations build on sweat equity.

America currently has a President who loves his Nation, loves his People and loves his Constitution.

We, on the hand, have a Prime Minister who is too fearful of upsetting the leftie luvvie lunatics and continues to dance a little side step.

I will go back ad nauseum to my articles about the Rugged Men.

I want a bloody rugged man at the helm. One who will build some dams and get a grip on things. I am sick to death of leaders who speak the language of the UN and forget the sweat, the lightening, the thunder and the brick veneers that we live in.

I am sick and tired of platitudes to the UN, Greta Thunberg and whoever else pops up on the radar.

I am sick and tired of it.

Australia is dying. Our farmers are dying. Our agriculture is dying. Our coal industry is dying.

The left applaud and we sit back and sit on our patios and say they don’t care.

“ This is Australia” Today, it is a Nation of I do not care. Our farmers are committing suicide and no one cares.

The left don’t care. They hate farmers. Hell, the left hate everyone who gives a shit about productivity and growrth. All they want to do is stifle and suffoocate and ruin hard work and graft and sweat equity. 

We, America and Australia, were born on the sweat of good people working hard and we are being threatened with being brought down by those who never sweated, never grafted and never CARED.

Am I anngry? Too damned right. 

To lie in sweat, on familiar sheets
In brick veneer on financed beds
In a room, of silent hardiflex
That certain texture, that certain smell
Brings home the heavy days
Brings home the the night time swell

Chrous
Out on the patio we'd sit
And the humidity we'd breathe
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
Laugh and think, this is Australia

 

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