These Days

October 07, 2020

Grand feathers dress democracy; we have it: pass the railings

On chancy feet to work a dodge, who eat slick sluicing oysters,

Console around rat-droppings popping payslips;-

These considered windy days of many turnings

A landfill quarter squanders to its own dismissal

Shadow walkers milling in an abjects’ den

Scheduling on no schedules; liquor taken pathogen

Soothes interludes; blind drunkenness their views occluding

Cash, lavish cash, brings comatose the racket runners

Cuddles, which cruddle till ill recitals feel like home

Compost collaterals draw they from a soma-sown detritus

With famous ticket labels:

The cords of the world that bind, draw scars refinedly

In dislocations wrists twist crippled, scarred for money

Clasps cannot cup, as drizzle upwards pools sanguine

In circles glints, who squint on pints, embezzle

Converted piecework labour in their favour bled

Clap-irons, in megatons, make strangle power crack

Concert impressions, hard oppressions, squeeze the juices

Forcers of way connive, shirt laundromat the system

Exhausts over engines negotiate the peopled roads

Rosters like roller-coasters crash and centrifuge

Hassling the crews, the queue of lubbers, crude compound the treatment

Providing, supporting half a camel’s butt-end’s worth

Of contribution: summary – a trace, a trickle

Conquistadors indoors have claimed for bodgers; as Cortez

Claimed, and for Spain obtained, grossed greedily,

From same-in-name, inane, untaught constituencies

For robber politicians’ cantraip party games

Forget us here; make documentary smear,

Trite semiotic blear, – insult the coming history