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Rob Kingston Feb 2016
Perplexed by the lack of emotion
This service once the fight of the nation
Little thought now that war was won
Little thought to who receives the funds

One nation is what was told
All services were once ours to hold
Now the deeds of greedy done
The profits to them shall become

The needy the poor will rot in the gutter
Whilst a city is built like no other
Care not for the want or needs
The delinquency has sown its seeds

No blankets in a harsh winter
No shelter for the wars that splinter
Gone the door where free could roam
Pay your dues again or face the laws at your home

Do not whinge nor whine
Your lapse behavior sees you fine
When its you that seeks their wares
You will find a cost too much to bare

When your cut or wound lays rotting
Reflect your moment of desertion
Remember this the choice was yours
You chose to watch as they dismantled
The Nations Health service and Closed the doors.
Rob Kingston Feb 2016
They swallow another piece of spiel
From a government who likes to deal
Not for the sake of humanity
Not for the sake of sanity
All for their bigoted view
So as business sits clearly on a higher pew.

A visit to the doctor this day
An offer of division on display
No direction to an internal source
Instead an offer to undermine our health care’s course.

How many are blind to this cause
A wrenching feeling cause’s pause
Not for the sake for changes sake
More for the knowing this course is fake

Those of ignorant stand
Who take the pill of this disband
Will hopefully live to see the day
When their ill judgement sees their heads in hands of dismay

So here we are this devilish deed in swing
No cause or desire for sweet birds to sing
The sombre day is almost here
When for your life's graft you will pay dear
No freedom to draw from taxes paid
Your last breath lies with the decision you made.
Paul Sands Mar 2015
i) up the stairs
red scarves and tight skirts
loose slacks and grey shirts
my how the landscape has changed
I can’t say that I love to be dipped into this *** of pretty
where the lipstick liner queens supreme
and the coffee is brewed to mitigate the colostomy retch
so I try a yellowed paper backed beat
but it held nothing to the shoebox diorama
of national care
where the alphabetised gates of ingress
more or less double as departure lounge
for the broken and spent where their god
might sit them on fashionably backed chairs
for the percentile of misplace repairs
or is it me that smells of warm ****?

ii) down the travelator
a troll lives under the MRI,
moved on from the bridge by the gruffest of beards,
now working externally of the fable
beneath the table of the magnetic eye
Chris Weallans Jun 2014
ECG
ECG

They showed the broken rhythm of my heart
With inky ripples traced in peaks and troughs
The night when sudden life was torn apart
Left echoes like a dry persistant cough
This paper trail more signature of self
Than any scribbled scrawl of given names
More indication of my vital health
Than any poet’s talk of light or flames
My quick survival charted there as fact.
“And here, you see a murmured aftershock”
The remnant spider scribe of heart attack
My ailing pulse, my brittle ticking tock
Once took a moment’s beat to catch its breath
And left me reeling at the edge of death.

— The End —