The Same Old Song

July 08, 2020

Again, agone, another opportunity

Ohone! make importunity, away prognostication!

Sinews and thews are tautly flexured

Cued to a solemn pitch...

Action-stations, lift-off there, where’ere the days left-off

Some whiles ago - resuming

The instruments acourtre for fiduciary snows

Come pounding down, the soccer grounds grow limber

Theme parks; pub darts; brews, hostelries

Refloat a dwindling FTSE, or the DOW

A band, flags waving, falling skies of rice,

Thrown mad all-ways, we’re high on signatures

The world is commen open like a battered old snail’s shell

It’s as you were again – again to-go – as normally

Up peeps the happy shopper, pop! - shot out his wormhole fast

Hauls the same baggage down the mall; pulls finicals

Hung dangly shiny bits - have extra rummage-pull

Homewards he scoots, cashed out, in full cahoots with retail

The scopes, the hopes, of soaps revivified, live on the air

His ritournelloes, top-note recitatives

A jolly fellow.

Clothes-reaping keeps this country going like a song

Droves seek the start of mowing, playing haymaking

The old ways bandwagon

Of goods – there’s a misnomer! – services – another!

The grand charade’s recited

Beside a planet raddled in an injuries ward

Here are pathologies being sculpted; man’s best work of art;

Jive dancing JCBs, lithe excavators jiggle on,

Dig out a dear ballet

Airs scored for raptors’ claws disfiguring, ripping, landscapes,

Mates perorate, ring jingling songs of veniary

This is an emblem, visual, on pandemic dissolution;

By delicate moves indelicacy carves everything

Hark how below dark angels gloating tumble, singing,

Murder fair musicks adulating earth’s denial

Roaring, applauding, the more coastline gets compromised;

Indifferent banded clans’ returning unearned tax relief

Flaunt on their best-laid plans to mart the atlases

Nor sure, no cure, nor caveat, for the time’s abandonment

The ravages of men begin and end, caustic, inside

Captains, caught, caged, of industry, prefer a tantric gyve

Playing at patrons, benefactors of the peoples - lies;

Declaring in ankle shackles, crowing corsairs of enterprise

These golems, let them shrive

Caught under mummery’s junctures, neck to neck they’re tied,

Ligatures Satan cannot move, nor woman strike,

Dissever; nor clever devotee might cerebrate

How-tos and workarounds - for lo, the beast is out;

And write the beast down fitly as ‘iniquity’

A gnosis is in sight before us, calls filial awakening

Tells us the times, the situation, lit up big in lights

A dozen Hansards; a harried regimen of covetoise

Tell us repair unto The Lord’s House, even to vallet there

A dust compacted soul of avarice and sin: be clean

That’s if, that’s how to, if, you want to change a world -

Your start’s within