Tag Archives: satire

SPECTACLES

SPECTACLES

my spectacles
are too foggy
for this world

this world
is too foggy
for these
spectacles

you may
call this
serendipity

but I call
it shit

unable to
see anything
past my
nose

no hope of
validating
even the mildest
of all
these

global
conspiracies
some
of course

with their
own spectacular fog machines

OF THE AGE

OF THE AGE lies live lies survive lies fly all over the place so much destruction in their wake their instinct being to replicate split like mutant cells divide and be careful how you yourself do define for here service to the lie loses the light goes completely blind for shadow has shown too easy it be to mistake the love of a death embrace become the thing we fear we hate the beautiful hypocrite of the age the lie in us so consummate

A WORD

A WORD

let me have a word

let me fill
you in
from a poetry

am going to need
twenty, maybe
thirty
thousand
characters already

oops1 sorry,
my apology

did I say
“characters”?

that was a bit
of a fatal Freudian slip

I meant to say “words”;
no sorry: lines

no I am completely wrong

in the wrong

to do this justice
I need to write
the final
death count
as poems

MAMBAS

MAMBAS so complacent and complacent yet again left-brain, right wing such recipe for human stupidity deluding yourselves into expecting slow worms when we came as mambas — venom measured to make maximum use of every critical drop and prempting rebuttal speed off ths charts impossible to catch us and how you floundered losing your sense of place and actual places slipping into paralysis mamba neurotoxic venom stealing into your system taking slow but incontravertibly catastrophic effect

DEBT

DEBT

wanted to
write a little poem
about suffering
about genocide

but
spam and telemarketing
rained down
from Heaven like
peverse
pay-later manna

and incessant reminders and
encouragement
to settle my
outstanding
debts wonderful, this world

once God
declared for capitalism
poetry and
profit
such excellent bedfellows
like lovers
in Hell

and talking of Hell
there is
fear and consideration
of media troll monsters
children of the children of
the fat uncles and
aunties
who battleshipped the streets
in my small English town

so no poem
I’m sorry

no tiny increment to
add to this struggle

you are
on your own again, I’m
afraid

nothing more than ashamed failure
(with the rest of the world
accused by
this legal Penthisilea

I stand
not with
my brave South African
compatriots
far from this dock)