Marble, sweat and rivers jolting away
This is the veil in which we play.
A city distracted from other’s gaze and
Far astray from the turtles’ graze. Torchlight
And illuminating words, spark a phantom turn
Ditching the foreign birds and when justice
Is spoken, it is unheard. Unearth
And unearth the doubting worm, feed it
The thieves of the land, allow
Them to punish the thieving man. Speak
Bitter and more wittier than most, tell the
Impotent and spectral ghosts that they, like us,
And like today are not entitled
To a rise in pay. Like the potato men
Who would weigh and weigh
And wade and wade for as
Little pay as
Fourty pence and a kind
Delay on their crippling rent.

Over and over the marble hedge, and
Across the pools of delirious sweat sleeps
Bountifuls of brush and deer, soaking up
The tears of lesser fellas, queer men
Back from deserts,
Tightening their belts and
Clasping at their mother’s gifted quilts.
Cactus sounds follow them home, prickly
Towns await in their ready made tombs, and dirt
Dirt, dirt filled cracks block comfort
And solace in their tracks.

Remembering when thunder struck, and how
‘Tough love falling out of love’ is a thought
Keeping the boys away from graves. Keeping
The boys safe and tucked behind
The garden maze, the green paths and walls
Of Europe's lavish sites keep the boys
Safe and tucked,
And in and out of love like a parrot
Stuck barking the same
Unpleasant rhymes.

Kingdom come, come marching towards
The heavy crimson sun and speak
Easy towards fun and fun. Men have not
Seen fun for some time, it was barred
From the camps on the riverside.
“Pick up a gun and have some fun” the corporal said,
“Pick up a gun and have some fun” the witness said,
And “Pick up a gun and have some fun” the grieving
Brother and
Tired mother cried.  

Fun has thieved the land, taking
Man and man away from the rivers and the lakes. Sinking
Man into water, and engulfing water in man.
Fun has taken life after life and
Watered down the meaning of strife, men
No longer tighten their belts
Or grieve on their mother’s quilts
But rather sip at straws and pause
The heroes on the screens, wishing and hoping
For more meaningful means, perhaps
As numbing and forthcoming
As their midday dreams.