AT DAVOS
they all loved
your speech
sadly, I had missed it,
going full introspective
(had such
a hard on
for philosophical ideas)
and then
there was the warpaint
smeared a mask
across my face
with it
words flying at me slowly
half-heartedly
like blunderbuss bullets
need
a missile screen to
deflect them
golden
dome in my
brain AWACS in my pocket
sold on the need for
rigorous dissection,
deconstruction
of the spiritual segue
from
rupture
to rapture
when i
came back to myself
I saw you
pulling a crowd surf
every delegate
having lost it
gone 107%
apeshit
and poor Premier
Carney
still floating, sailing
over
everybody’s heads
not speaking the language
native to white people
telling it
like it is
staight brain
to mouth
no filter, zero intervention
fractured, incoherent,
as Mr Tommy Eliot’s
The Wasteland
was in its day
and so now
the rush
to reward, honour,
praise him
every Nobel Prize possible
every honorary degree —
institutions
tripping, falling
over themselves
to rewire
reinvent
install
the new Maga wisdom
screen out
every conceivable
Sophie Scholl
likely to rain
on this parade
poems 2 die for 