A British Science Fiction For South America

Five electric eels
Swung out over the ecclesiastic highway
Driven now only for acoustics
Waiting choirs complained of unbefitting stones
And the dogmas of their ingrained brethrin
Irritate their alternate
And pass again,
At a speed of rules,
Five electric eels overtaking in sequence like
A juggling highway.
Obscene ducks were carefully
Redirected from sight.
The recordings were obdurate
People were divided between
The many and the few
But the many had been absorbed together
Into one mind, particularly linked
That all who lost signal screamed rabbid unbearable
Or in peaceful lockstep harmony
Such unhuman seductive harmony
Such immense immortal promise
Transisted
But the rot came like to the scotched
Banana plant
And now all must wear special jackets
And howl as what was supposed to leave
Struggle behind with new existence
Resiliently betrays the lot
That had been the plot of the few gone wrog
And now they consider with guilt
The chant
And use landscapes for flutes
Compositions of brittle perfection
Interlacing Norman castles
The Winchester cathedral now
An office space
For goblin clerks
And more mythologies
More than I can bear
For we intone reality
With fantasy
Summon and spell
Not from warbling mirage
But sleight of hand and throat
Fear and nonchalance
The piecemeal societal psychosis
Terrific, horrific effecting
Unpredictable yes
Send in the shrunken submarine
Cautious all ye
Who tinker here