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Lucy Feb 2018
The yonder above is forever bruised and opaque
Reigning over glum faces
Complexions washed with a bloodless shade of dispassion
Robotic, disengaged.

Material desires are quenched with vast shopping centres
Credit Cards hold on for dear live
As every last drop of sweet money is rinsed from that plastic rectangle.

Living beyond our means
Whilst simultaneously refusing to give up on Sky TV box sets and liquid lunches.

Hooked to our phones, but not for telephone communication
Rather, for self validation
Defined by the click of a heart or pathetic thumb.

The once friendly communities
With blood coursing through their veins
Are husks of their previous life form, gentrified beyond recognition.

Filtered faces with protruding spines and modified features
Infiltrate mass media
Corrupting the definitions of success and beauty.

Plastic personalities reign supreme
Vacuous minded socialites profess women’s empowerment begins with the flaunting of skin
Rather than the possession of a strong mind.

Many bury their heads in the sand
Residing in ignorance
As mass genocides and civil wars manifest every second.

Or worse, they read the TORYgraph and THE ****  
Believing immigrants spawn white genocide
And white conservatives suffer oppression.

Pffft!

I have deep contempt for those behind these ***** tabloids
Murdoch and his monsters
Orchestrating lies and bile
Destroying lives or scaremongering the impressionable
Committing the most savage, sycophantic crimes
In order to extract Monday’s headline.

I do not suffer fools
Especially those who make up the tapestry of dystopia
A failing age of doom.
Lucy Sep 2017
Transient summers,
Forbidden Bluebell fields,
Tough times symbolise the pouring of ales.


Manicured lawns,
Cider drinking Saturdays,
Routine discussions about the sun and rain.


Hijinx down the watering hole,
The great unwashed congregating on Market Day,
Smog penetrating the lungs,
Forlorn eyes, social decay.


Leaders of austerity,
Riddled with oppressive policies,
The tedious endurement of the morning commute.


Sirens cut across Westminster,
A quintessential rave anthem,
Boxing Day sales,
Sheer pandemonium.


Revelling in satire,
And curtain twitching,
Reading racists newspapers,
Disenfranchised youth.


Icky dance floors with raging hormones,
Breath heavy with hops and acrid tobacco.


**** drops and winding waists,
Ladies bathroom, evil eyes exchanged.


Sundays spent hanging,
And Mondays depressed,
Holy communions,
Cladded in your best dress.


Suppressed thoughts,
And baited breath
An Albion filled with oppression and dread.
Lucy Sep 2017
Secreted away in my den of peace,
Blissfully falling into an undisturbed sleep.

Cocooned in toasty linen blue sheets,
Descending into deep serenity.

The earths landscape stands statuesque and still,
Long-limbed branches motionlessly tranquil.

A heady winters breeze filled with festive pleasantries,
The moon adorned with a crisp angelic glow.

Charcoal clouds cruising across the hushed atmosphere,
A transient moment free of stress and fear.

A night filled with harmony and content,
Shielding against any form of threat.
Lucy Sep 2017
The bird song anchors my soul,
Soothing any quiver of anxiety
Keeping my ship stable and steady.

Sweet shrills and cheery echoes soften my breath,
As my limbs gently fall to rest.

Innocent symphonies rippling through the air,
Offering divine headspace
Detoxifying unwanted bugbear.

I'm at one with the earth
Alive in the moment
My stronghold of calm
A serenity so potent.

No drug can emulate this untarnished moment of peace
A gratifying tension release.

So pure and still I can hear the rise and fall of my chest,
Like blissful waves lapping onto virginal marble sands.

— The End —