burning bowels,volcanic eruptions,cauldron of curry,greedy consumptions.stomach constricted,choking barbed wire,*** like a baboon,that sat on a fire.bubbling belly, a pea for a brain,**** like a *** flag, stinging with pain,sat on a toilet, i grunt and i gurn,once a week habit,.....cos i never learn.

I figured where we fit on this little journey:
     In the middle of the start just as it’s about to end.
     Hire a gun! Hire Gun! Ah’a but can’t we be one?
     Fixed- the fickle have a sickly sweet dream to spend.
     Let them follow breadcrumbs all the way to the sun.
And as the 'fat whites' are watching, we too watch them burn.
    The woken dead poets sleep as we owe them it.
    But yet I feel disgrace as I chase their tongues wit.

   Fright learns a lesson when he hears himself gurn’.  
   Now he’s pouring himself sourly across this page.
   Disgrace! Disgrace! can’t you fit each word in its place.
   Foul taste! Foul taste! my words are forgotten,
         with his forgotten waste.
   But time as it takes, takes my breath slowly with it.  
   Till my last word is winded for another tongue to spin it.

The dry day came
The baler the same
Walking behind they magically pop out
We march to the call and gurn to the shout

The lift is swift
And the landing is firm
On the steel trailer bed
Nothing more to be said

Off to the yard
To the pile at the top
We hide our protest
Man, this is hot

I can't see for the dust
The smell of the hay
Makes us lift faster
I'll remember this day

A neat puzzle is made
My energy will fade
Every bale must fit
Every lift, one of grit

The sweat and the heat
This job is not complete
Once more to the field
To gather the yield

i watch

as pain and power flow
awash with vibrant meaning
aglow

i pause

struck by how little i know
bereft of Righteous Seeming
a Show

i turn

while dawn lights without feeling
slow distant moans congealing
a sad constant "bless" revealing

the naked waste below

and how i wish i could return
find once again the desire to yearn
touch once again her skin and burn

but STOP
this rhyme cannot itself discern
an outline of some turgid turn
and brilliant thus transform
and learn
that which masters will not yet confirm
that Oh My god this terra firm
is nothing but an empty gurn
an Almighty drudge
who would rather flick a "V"
than cause a fuss
and bestow PURPOSE
on the likes of us

so yes i crawl and weep
too weary to stop i creep
in shadow seeking to be Meek
but misunderstanding call "I AM WEAK"

so excused lie down to sleep

(silent now we speak with just our eyes and look not one bit surprised because really everybody lies so move on now there are no ties to keep you here)

Creation stirs and lifts a lid but seeing nothing shifts a bit
{a thousand species become extinct}
content IT yawns and once more gets on with slowly dying