POEM

–

Open your eyes ‘coz the are shut,

Look at the rut you are digging and listen to your gut.

You push your kid in the road and expect the traffic to stop moving.

You’re rushing them to school but all the good grades are proving is you can’t trust yourself to teach that child to start doing life on their own,

Free from the school terms Terms.

You would rather bitch and moan to your other blind friends,

Sucking marrow from an already sucked bone.

Limited senses and crossed lenses lines muddling messages in mobile phoney times.

Surface scratch card living rooms,

Metro reading filling dooms.

Death or fries,

Shit or lies.

Wankers tie tired eyes to these blatant words of disillusion,

Confusing faux-prophetic solutions and institutions with constitutional rights.

Your rights are fucked if you can’t even cross a road without risking your sons the fate of a toad.

And you criticise prince kissing prince because of what?

Because our incessant mincing is causing your intolerant wincing?

You can’t cope with human to human love?

You will eagerly cut the wings of a dove who’s at least trying to see who they are.

There’s no wonder you are dying to chuck your kid under the wheel of my car.

You are so far in.

You must know that you will never win the more you hide behind consumer stupidity’s tide.

Riding inevitably crashing waves,

You are digging your unborn’s graves.

And the waves may be strong,

But that does not make them not wrong.

There’s more than truth in a lovers song.

There’s lessons to be learnt,

To be earned through listening to the glistening teeth of this nasty fag.

There’s juice to be squeezed from the brain of a hag.

Pry open your stale box of time,

Abstain from sucking on societies nipple,

Tipple will not stop them from cutting you with pickle and wine and serving your sorry served limbs in a plastic bag,

Polluting the soil where your children’s lives are to be had.

Entitled titled Mr and Mrs,

What lessons do you have to offer,

When you vote to rule out another persons kisses,

Hatred’s Hisses filtering my freedoms through a sieve.

Where is the love?

What hope have you got to give?

–

Written by Ted Rogers “Artpornblog”

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