Helmed by pilots
who maybe read the manual,
definitely loved the way
the hat looked in the mirror

nearer and nearer the nuclear button we inch
cheeks pinched in at random stupidity
with no desire to suspend our own flesh
over that particular fire

Is this sick feeling jealousy?

Watching those who clearly know no better
pretend otherwise and still succeed?
When they channel the brass
of someone smarter,
harder, sharper, more charming?

What do we do
with alarms that keep ringing these days,
but hit snooze?

To balance a justified arrogance
built by decades
against quixotic bosses
who pass through quicker
than a bout of diarrhoea
is tough

wrap your arms in the rigging
you intrinsically know
so when siren song sounds
or Scylla and Charybdis boil
you’ll still be on the boat
when spat back
to calm seas and good winds