your every argument held together by the glue
from a thousand children's bones and
the mercy box lies empty of anything but
your celebratory cigars
yesterday should wear a disguise
to hide its shameless joy
yet markets the efficacy of its deceit
with paroled butchery
even as today bullets freshen the neighbourhood

the act of now is the charcoal bloomed eyes
gun dead through the, NO! the no holds barred
the dials of a solid *******
and charcoal in turn will sublimate the sun
for its drone tucked brethren, NO! no crowns
or breast for the committed smirk or ersatz worth
and dying grants a detached view
an eager cut of prettiness directed
where blue melts belief
and white your teeth

and this is the easiest, NO! the gathering
shells from the beach, the streets, underneath the sheets
stepped through the brethren tuned around
in living colour, NO! dying horror on subscription
credit accrued where credit due
and shall we leave it seventy two now the ratings
start to falter?