satire – Page 31 – poems 2 die for

NATURALLY

a nation of shopkeepers
without shops

a nation of conquerors
without conks

a nation of accountants
called to account

in the event of
analysis

it’s a lout
rout

EXCHANGE

I have no
exchange value

you would not get
a sous for me

on the open market
not worth the speculation

and so I hold my breath
will hold it so until
it all
just
burst

till I just
burst

my extinction
good for rarity

TOROJAN WOMBMEN

Toorojan Wombmen
have helmet heads

love licorice
(it is their
most guilty pleasure)

hate
allsorts

would send all allsorts
down to Poseidon’s locker

something fishy already
felt about the smell

Oh but the Achaeans
are coming
the Myrmidions are coming

loaded with logic
and rationality

their armour as
bad-bullet proof

as Blackpool rock
(so many cavities
in the fangs
you
are bearing

so much yellow enamel
in need of bleach)

they papered over the cracks
until there was only paper
the whole wall
was wallpaper
steadily depreciating
but as of now
worth a ton

but so much
focus on the paper
we were told
to forget about doors
forget about windows
forget about foundation
forget
about structure

and then
they wrapped all
our joys in
smothering, swaddling paper

killing them off
telling us
out with
the old in
with the new

and loss of our joys
pleasures and
freedoms

part of the
new beauty
wealth of
our trajectory

purpose of life reconceived for all