There’s a guy I know
Who’s into spirits,
And not the liquid kind.
He stares sidelong at the world,
Twists his head from side to side.
Imagine what he might find.

Vampires drink wine in Soho,
Sipping from fluted necks
In late night **** stores.
Werewolves run Hyde park ragged,
Robed in riches turned to rags,
If only in the lunar mind.

Police pigs snuffling
Through street trash,
Hunting for him shaped treats.
Televisions watching
His living room and recording
Names and faces of all his kind.

The media he scorns,
Puppet masters pulling strings
For their puppet masters.
The government and the media
Are in it together he opines,
Waving a rag with that in mind.

Aliens control the government,
Sinking sinuous senses
Through simian skulls;
Prodding, poking, pulling
Political factions to provoke
A return of the fleet they left behind.

Codes in hoods hide in churches,
Linking mathematical shapes
To chain centuries of history;
Statues wink and leer at
Myopic armchair men and women
Hunting for the doom of mankind.

Millions of rubes bought over
Shop counters using nonesuch
To sell their souls for trinkets;
Illuminati design adverts,
Flashing commercials;
****** for the public in mind.

Big name pharmaceutical
Selling death at a point
For the sake of profit over parent;
Buying stats to lie to the mass,
Doctors demanding dummies
Despite the way the stars aligned.

Taken for a ride,
We queue with tickets in hand
Waiting for our turn on the rails.

Lie on lie on lie.

He sleeps with one eye on the sky.

Tracking cameras on a road sign.

This guy I know,
He thinks too much.
I don’t mind.