The Poetry Marathon

There is only one moment

on any given day when

the carnage of life

just fades away

it’s that slide

into sleep

that place

between

dreams

and

death.

I doubt I can get

to the end.

But then again…

‘ere’s my effing pome

about love and all o’ that

I wish I ‘ad an effing beer

and a bloody awful  ‘at

so I could ‘ide behind my world

and dream about the time

when I was effing single

and I didn’t ‘ave to rhyme.

But yeah, I guess I luv ya

but please don’t tell me mate

or I will have to stuff ya

behind a storm-drain grate.

The rich are far too opulent

to bleed for a Cause

and besides, Causes have no place

pleading to the rich.

It would only make them unhappy

and if the rich do not feel content in their mansions,

who would be available for mindless gossip?

Everyone knows gossip is the lifeblood of society. Without it, what would people say to each other?

Talking about art has its limits. After all, art is only there to make the rich look cultured.

They all said Oscar was Wilde but behind closed doors, the rich were fucking like possessed monkeys.

Only those who fell out of the trees were exposed, so to speak.

So let the Causes be the business of the poor so the rich can maintain their façade.

It is really all they have. Well, apart from fabulous wealth of course.

Tiptoeing on broken glass

I hear the laughter

I see the smiles

I smell the tears

There is an elephant in waiting

and a mouse in mourning

twisting the remnants

of triumphant repose.

Glazed edges sense oblivion

carved by the hands of crime

tranquil empathy

engineered compatibility

tests of courage and of blood

cannot stem the tidal mass

inherent in truth

succulent in agony

triple bypasses bypass the bypass

electric fences feed the wireless generation

and no-one knows where they are anymore

the elephant sighs

the mouse cries

the end is nigh

is night

and day is cause

for celebration

Possibilities prey upon loss

loss preys upon catharsis

there is no truth

but truth

and terror cannot divide

the understanding

of fallacy

Trembling tongues

speak to banter of a quiet nature

trees felled

in orchards are felt

in paddocks

across the sea

as the elephant smiles

and the mouse inflates itself

to meet the challenge

of survival.

Trained monkeys are watching you

as the source of all knowledge

claims another life

in another place

in a separate time

tracing the logic

of counter-logic

terraces of fear built

in a wasteland of guilt

Transparency

wins

every

time.

It began with Christopher Columbus,

who gave the people the name Indios.

And thus began their demise.

“Why not?!” She cried in a thousand ways,

“I’ve paid my dues, I’ve challenged the days

There’s plenty of cake sitting on my plate

So why must I swallow the shadows I hate?”

“Work is so good for the soul” they said

as I stacked stupid shelves for a wage.

“You’re young, and you can doing anything,”

they said, as I watched myself age.

And so it went on for many a year

of back-breaking, soul-crushing crap.

I worked for the man, I worked for myself

no, nothing was thrown in my lap.

One day I moved from workhorse to sloth

to afford my poor body a rest

and now I’m that person, I’m dreaming of work

yes, life is ironic at best.

The have to lick.

It’s how they think.

They’ll lick your face

and make you blink.

They’ll lick their balls

in front of you

they’ll lick another’s

Really? Eeeww…

They’ll lick a bone

that has no meat

they’ll lick the floor

they’ll lick your feet

They’ll lick a robber

half to death

they’ll lick you

with that yukky breath.

They’ll lick your friends

but never fail

to never lick

the guy with mail.

We sensed the voice of reaction

but we were still too busy to tell.

It was born from unconscious inaction,

and there was no warning bell

as it planned it’s sickly hell.

But before we noticed it had begun

the flag of Fascism blocked our sun.

We watched as voices spitting bile

grew stronger from our fears.

The Age of Want had been on trial

for far too many years

and out of all those tears

the blame was aimed at innocents:

the marginalised, the transients.

It demanded all the people

be subjected to it’s cause.

Public office and the steeple

all complicit in their flaws

putrid putty in their claws.

But Lefties, gays and refugees

would feel their vicious allegories.

The Face of Fascism’s cancer spread

from Facebook to the street.

The artists tried to warn the dead

the activists tried to meet

till the canons had them beat.

Laws were passed and truth betrayed.

Progress was again delayed.

The Blackboots hit the vulnerable

with slanders, myths and hate.

Historians said: “Incredible!

We witnessed Hitler’s fate…

now he’s knocking at our gate?

But how has this again occurred

when Nuremberg had them interred?”

See, the thing about ‘democracy’:

it hides beneath itself.

The psychopathic plutocracy

must shield it’s ill-got wealth

with cunning and with stealth.

And when the mask is ripped away

it starts to rule another way.

So when you see a Muslim girl

get hammered on a train

or when you hear an idiot hurl

racist slogans at your brain

threats of violence, fear and pain.

Remember: that’s how Hitler started.

Remember that for those departed.