Imperial Thoughts

back and forth the argument goes

she could follow the thread if she wanted to

but her mind drifts on other thoughts

of sunny endless times

and 26 inch waists

{she wonders when she stopped mentally translating imperial into metric}

she thinks of diets and books

and who in their right mind would pay $32,000 for a dress

{skewed priorities}

when it could buy a whole library of adventures

she thinks on landlords and a quick buck

of people trapped in life

and burning infernos

she tunes back in for a moment

only to realise the argument

has tied itself in knots

it could take years to unravel

{keep them occupied for the rest of the term}

she sidles back within

has a cup of tea and a chat

with the various demons who have taken up residence

in her mind over the years

“give a man an inch and he’ll take a mile” she thinks to herself

{mentally translating the measurements into centimetres}

before picking up a book

and escaping for a while

into fantasies

 

 

Copyright June 2017

 

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From Inside She Watches

from inside she watches

as the world plays on

feeling overwhelmed

by sky and clouds and the sun

and nearly eight billion people

all breathing the same air

 

from inside she watches

as the same patterns

repeat themselves over

cardboard cut outs of politicians

no longer pretending to govern

for more than self interest

 

from inside she watches

wonders how it will end

will we know when we reach

the tipping point when revolution

is the only answer or will we

die quietly as the stars go out

 

from inside she watches

the simple unfairness of being

 

 

Copyright June 2017

King of the Rats

 

he talked them into following

paid the piper for his tools

played the tune they wished to hear

and listened to the sound of little rat feet

pattering along behind him

 

what a pity that the tools were second rate

and the tune, a borrowed one, a fake

so sad, that the piper, having been paid

sewed seeds of doubt amongst the rats

though they still followed, with false pride

 

he talked them into following

but gave no thought to how he’d feed them

when he stopped piping and they gathered in expectation

he only listened to a private tune

the one where he was king of all the rats

 

 

Copyright May 2017

Veering to the Right

 

riding the wave of anxiety

from where I cautiously swim

almost submerged by circumstance

I see lines of marching men

 

from all the four horizons they come

beating drums, goose-stepping in tune

{breaststroke, butterfly, backstroke

breaststroke, butterfly, backstroke}

 

and still they keep on shoving

mermaids out of the way

there is no space for frivolity

in a world where everything is for sale

 

there they are marching again

on the crest of our fears

stomping all over our freedoms

{no freestyle, no freestyle, no freestyle

a patriots Australian crawl}

 

and secretly I’m frightened that

there is no place for me at all

 

 

Copyright May 2017