Makes a blank evolution, turning like a slow elephant

On a box, in a circus, blindfold

Takes up proffered buns, a willing trunk, and grasping

There is no other fare

Where is the tamer, the cicus master, cowering small?

An Oz at a desk in Whitehall eating foie de gras

With an ornate bookcase, reading lamp and a mannered way

Certain of ways the world turns, appositely sure

A little worldly-weary, dreary, acceptant how it goes

Is how it goes, and who am I to balk?

There fits no lustre in this paloured eye; The Ritz

His watering-hole

Therefore his world is our world and it turns off true

Thoughtlessly, allowing all things coming, room

As if inevitable, progress is in the bag

To go, as fast food, sweaty, noisome, and who cares?

Masters of titilations, entertainer news

And views casters, regular suits, haute lectern-leaning hands,

Disperse, dispense, on doctor’s orders parsley stuffing ground

With thyme, content for ritual fowl

Encaged, engaged for sofa-ridden visions

Get out the knives; the enemies of State

Regardless do no wrong but gets reported cold,

All things for bad the proper of the day each day

Read, mark and learn, there is no other vestibule

Aplomb scholastic mien hoves inspiring on their heads

As they sing antiphons of gorgeous hallows

The very TV winces at their cardboard cut-out front

And advocations

The multinational nations are divided; sheep and goats,

(Gateses and Zukerbergs keep them in their surly pay

Retainers in the vainer sorts of tacit intfluence

Embedded.) In many lands

Where overridden practically by this free-rein of power

By Dysons, Goldman Sachs, and Rockerfellas

And this is normal; never noted, castigated, on the news;

The Gravy Train

Instead turns bends on tracks where women struggle, caught

Sequestered, tied by men, face certain death,

Unless Houdini-like they wrestle nobly free

Upraise themselves

To doing what the men do but do so better,

The sport, the elevated things of daily life,

The news reviews, the educative documentaries,

Wielding an Occam’s axe grinding their whitened teeth

Changing a people’s party-changeable beliefs

Nodding at gender-change and rehabilitations

Of those outside the pale; outside the pale go fiends

Like Newton’s Laws applied in social engineering

Equal and opposite transitions on their transfer lists

As if only room for Lenny at the Premier Inn

And Jesus in a stable with the least livestock

The foreigners bearing gifts are likewise straight exiled

Jerusalem, that’s England’s pleasant promised land

Is hostile, they go back another way.

Thus under wraps are clothed the fields so whitely-ripe

For harvest in this land of milk and high-end honey

Run by the powers of complaisance and hallowed money

That’s all from me, for now, goodnight. (Unfunny.)