you can tread on a worm until it turns

but worms hide in the soil for lack of rain

and trickle down economics only works in reverse

leaving the worm at the mercy of the shovel


it’s all out of my control

somewhere along the line I must’ve agreed

{unless my yes was a forgery}

I don’t remember ordering this world

I suppose I could’ve done so inadvertently

ticking the box to put money ahead of compassion


the reality is that we see what we see

{like Pavlov’s dogs what we see is what we’re paid to see}


from somewhere near the bottom

{not in poverty just ignored}

I see anger turned without to hate

and it pains me to the bottom of my stomach


how can anyone be envious of someone

lower on the scale of fortune

why demonise people who fall apart

in a world where trust means money stored

and not a belief in the good of others


there’s a moment in the mornings

when I realise I’m still alive

in that flash of awareness

I must decide am I good or bad

or merely indifferent

and really, if I’m honest, what’s the point


even as I write I can hear another voice

shrilly screeching over the others

who cares what you think

you left leaning socialist bludger

I was dying and I still worked 15 jobs

here I am in heaven {a place you do not even believe in}

still working, helping with the screening process

and there you are living off others

how dare you utter an opinion


my voices, my friends since childhood

all gather together and tell her to shut the fuck up

she wouldn’t know heaven from her elbow

after designing hell – in a hand basket



Copyright May 2017



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