Tombs and judgements

after building
the ziggurat
the king priest
died

then some
bright spark
had the idea
of building the ziggurat
over the dead body
of the king priest
and invented
the pyramid

the pyramid
is nothing
But a tomb
That says to God
Here is a great
King priest

But the pyramid
Decayed a little
Filled with sand
Was robbed
Of its grave goods

If he is so good
It might be said
Let him save himself

It’s better for a king
To be buried
In an unmarked grave
Than a golden sepulchre

Free speech and lies

if the mouth is telling lies
the whole body will have to support the mouth

if the government is telling lies
the whole system will have to support it

those being lied to will suffer as much
as those being lied about

is discipline is the enemy
of free speech
is free speech is the enemy
of discipline
permission to speak freely sir

the higher up you go
the more discipline
hampers free speech

until you reach the very top
and its god is there
like an oasis in the desert
beneficent
cross sworded
promising
wearing a coat of sticky notes
his face
like the framework of a cathedral
he understands
how far you have travelled
to find justice
after all
it was he
who put the whole dam system
in place

The dangerous baby

As soon as he was born
They put him in handcuffs
He was a dangerous, a dangerous baby

They took him down for his mugshot call
He smiled and giggled at them one and all
The dangerous, dangerous baby

He didn’t mind giving his fingerprints
They covered over the whole cell wall
He was a dangerous, a dangerous baby

His DNA profile came dribbling easy
It made the staff sergeant feel very queasy
Of the dangerous, the dangerous baby

They took him into the interview room
Where he would wobble about and fall
his mother didn’t understand him at all
So they tried to placate him with a bouncy ball
The guards went and lost him when he began to crawl
He was a dangerous, a dangerous baby

The baby had no chance at all
In and out of the prison door
He was the dangerous, dangerous baby

Hamster

When you’re spinning round
Just spinning round
In your wheel
The earth and the sky
Become one grey blur

When you’re spinning around
In your treadmill
You have no time
To stop and look

You work so, so hard
In your little treadmill
Forgetful of the cage
That you live in

Until when a red sunset
Sat above the mountains
Its swords were dipped ion blood
It cut through the bars of your cage
And you ran off into the night alive

An Authority Bias

It had an authority bias
This sheep
It did what it was told to do
And it died

Its blood was drained into cups
Its flesh was eaten
Its wool was used for clothing

He had an authority bias
This man
He was plea bargained into oblivion
Where truth didn’t shine
And his soul
Was laid out like a carpet

Role Model Blues

You can be sure
That if
At the top of the heap
There is
A Role Model
As dazzling
As the light in a chandelier
You can also
Be sure that
At the bottom of the heap
There are people
Struggling
In the confusion
Of the long and bloody tapestry
Of a losing battle

The harsh light

It was the harsh light of the morning after the bailiffs had taken everything
And the status quo moved back in with their taste for minimalism

It was the harsh light of the morning after the end of the school play
With the chairs stacked up against the wall as if nothing had happened on the bare dusty floorboards

It was the harsh light of the morning after when everyone had finished eating the party cake and drinking the party wine
When the guard dogs had been positioned in the yard and the security guard sat down to watch the security camera

It was the harsh light of the morning after with the lock and chain on the front door
when the new system is exchanged for the old freedom and decimilisation starts to replace the horse and hand

It was the harsh light of the morning after when the coaches were gone and the pubs were dead and the memory of those days slept under a newspaper in the forgotten streets of the past

And like a dream animal, I ran on all fours through the streets of the town listening for their voices, looking for their party faces
feeling abandoned and facing the armed ranks of the New Model Army alone

And the harsh light is owned by the new system and they whitewash the whole world with shredded paper and confetti