...And in The Benighted States of America

As in other unlighted parts

The downward path is one of uphill struggles

And the common malady unique to each

See dislocations in the Public Body

Put out of joint there fractured lines of thought

Allowing any pocket with a liquid lobby

A platform that underscythes the rational root

The views the Zeitgeist-makers make us blunder blindly

With concepts conscripts of the standing high chairs

All volunteers railroading loco to consensus

Bystanders who’re convinced they’re compos mentis

The bars to contradiction bent and twisted

Are reasoned roads of logic tied-up, tarred and feathered

What’s upside-down hangs orderly appended

And rightside-up caves consonantly drowned

This age is one disconsolately ruptured

The Language of The Schools sinks in the brine

Its close, closed-book, analyses converge the palings

In parallel; are undermining minds

Dread value dithers, shakes the hand of nonsense,

Each to one’s own, his nonsense comfortable

Each to one’s own truth’s butter-fingered slide-rule

Diverse gradated scales for each ‘non-him’

Vortex accords towards increasing consolations

Its convolution’s collops all fished-out by dragnet

Madness lives institutionalised; a phoney Coney Hatch

The headless living hens 2 and drakes quack vivisection’s lies

A famous London suburbs Lunatic Asylum in the 1950s

There was recorded a few years back a news story, on a hen which had been beheaded some years ago, and which was still alive!