Sown as corn at little cost
And doomed to bloom amid the frost
Struggling through frozen earth
Weak and withered after birth

Swaddled up in soothing lies
With jingles as our lullabies
Numbered at our fledgling breath
Weighed, tagged and worked to death

Grown into a paper mould
With ball and chain of solid gold
Impotent to break or twist
The wireless shackle about the wrist
Conform, obey, do not resist

A silken blindfold binding eyes
To hide corruption on the rise
While noblemen with scented whips
Peddle lies from fattened lips

Voices raised in honest fear
Are drowned before they reach an ear
Just watch the screen, rapt, unblinking
Television does your thinking

Accept the credit, pay the debt
Take the chance and make the bet
Tow the line and wear the tie
Heckle the honest, praise the spy

Apathy has your gullet gripped
And leather fingers, sugar dipped
Have slipped on over zealous triggers
Suppressing freedom, defending figures

Chemical fed and bred to serve
Dry of tongue and numb of nerve  
Right and wrong have merged together
And apathy, our chosen tether

The beast is neutered, caged and tame
The sinews of defiance, lame
Wash down pills with poison water
Disregard the silent slaughter

Slumbering as lions of old
While politicians growing bold
On plundered gains and stolen lives
Until their reckoning arrives

For once again the lions stir
And shackles fall from ancient fur
Beware the people, stay the whip
The masque of apathy must slip

Rise up, lions, sleep has passed
With every lie and bullet cast
A revolution overdue
We are still many, they are few

**

Unassertive
Feeling furtive
Something isn’t right
Nibbling neuralgia begins to bite
Slightly pensive
Apprehensive
Eyes that dart about
Hover in the corner like a lingering doubt
Shadow thin
Sickly grin
Skin the shade of dust
Wringing at the fingers with a deep distrust
World view
Hangs askew
Tinkers with the blind
Studying the habits of humankind

At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room
Where the cockroaches eat what the rats don’t consume
There’s a table enveloped in paper and grime
On a carpet now lost to a happier time
With a cast iron typewriter, rusted with age
In the gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

And under a lampshade of nicotine brown
Sits a comical legend of zero renown
How he plugs at the keys of his rattling beast
The years of persistence have left him decreased
Now he’s stuck in the shade of his hovering doom
At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room

His words are for others and too, the applause
Though a standing ovation might cause him to pause
He hasn’t the courage to speak them aloud
For he’s lacking the bottle and shy of a crowd
So he captures the laughter in lines on his page
In a gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

I used to follow butterflies
In days of green and blue
I’d totter in their lazy wake
As if for nothing better's sake
And listen to the cricket’s quake
To find out what they knew

I used to follow butterflies
Along their merry way
Their cooling wings were flittered dry
The colours seemed to amplify
I held my breath to see if I
Could make out what they say

I used to follow butterflies
Through nooks of tepid shade
To dance upon a patch of light
Upon a bloom, they paused their flight
To satisfy their appetite
Before the day should fade

I used to follow butterflies
So carefree as they flew
And every day I’d wish that I
Could follow them about the sky
I used to follow butterflies
And often, I still do

**

I hope some day that I might BE
So watching eyes can plainly see
“He IS” they’ll say in whispered tones
While snapping pictures on their phones
I want to BE, as I have planned
(And those who ARE are in demand)
So I can BE and just because
I’ll always know that once I WAS

**

It’s not that I haven’t been trying
But my arms are against me just now
And it’s not just a matter of smiling
Though I honestly wouldn’t know how
Neither is it the cracks on the pavement
Or the hammer that bruises my thumb
For not one of these things is the reason
That I desperately need to be numb

It wasn’t the look that you gave me
Or the words you can’t hope to retrieve
It was never the place you were standing
But the space which remains when you leave
There was never a time it was easy
And we battled for every crumb
But the fighting has left me in pieces
So I need to be comfortably numb

This morning, as in bed I stirred
A most disturbing thought occurred
It felt, to my increasing dread
Like I had someone else’s head
Some other pair of hairy thighs
I saw through someone else’s eyes
I stood at not my normal height
With stringy arms all pale and slight
A bubbling chest and throaty wheeze
The click and crunch of knackered knees
I think I should go back to bed
And wake up somewhere else instead