I've just mortgaged my soul
And dug myself a big hole, using fools gold.
A fast and simple deal, designed to appeal,
So easy, it feels unreal.

I’m praying for a sign
Now regretting this crime.
And being punished by time
I cannot delay I must find a way,
Or they’ll make me pay

I have no time to regret
And I will never forget, this spiralling debt.
My life now standing still
So I must summon the will to pay this huge bill.

Bewildered and dazed
I must escape from this maze
With all credit erased.
To break the chain, or suffer the pain
Of temporary gain.

Freedom's all we every crave
To win this we must work like slaves.
I’ll pay later – at least I’ll try
The credits quick – the interest’s high.

Make a deal – should I get it
I want it now – if not forget it
Within my reach – yet far away
I have fools gold to save the day

A pay day loan may sustain your need,
But could lead to debt and misery.
They promise fast and easy wonga
But to pay the interest may take a bit longer.

Angst paces around the room gibbering to himself, and scratching the hair off his head. “ I need, I need to find it. Ally’s key… Aye, just the mad hing to lock it”. The door’s been left open for weeks, and the filth has been pouring in relentlessly: “ My Boyfriend was average till he discovered these miracle pills”, “ Icelandic Brides”, “ Think Rich. Be Rich”, “ Wonga: YOU pay when YOU can”, “. It’s all piled up and yet scattered throughout this already cluttered space; mixing in with the mess of the severed heads and rolling eyes. Angst paces through the filth, eating some every other hour. But he carries on searching for the key  ( or the wee hing) he needs to shut all this out and think.

He lights a cigarette from one of the candles on the long table(12 chairs accompany the piece, but there is only one, as there is only need for one just now) and passes the rest of the day watching the smoke swivel into a thumbs up icon or a question mark in a thought bubble( or anything else blue and white). All the while sifting through the filth  for that wee hing’; stopping every hour or so to feed on it.

it's all ******* tina turner at this point! or? we need not education... cougar middle-aged women, tiger mums... eating filfth of marine scavangers that ***** are... you wash your mouth, before telling me that certain words are filfth... you stop the oral ***, and let me speak the word, ****! i still prefer the tina turner version of events, rather than the pink floyd reality... where journalists are worse than teachers of the english language in school... mother... *******! condescending half-*****! apologies, for what? the bbq? so why are teachers in schools disrepected? so why should journalist, not be also?

you **** to the left
   (shaking your to the left)
or...
   you **** to the right
  (shaking your empty hand
to the right)
  you push the elevator button
to go up...
  or you push the elevator
button to go down...

   who's winning? who's losing?
the ******* ovaries?

       and it is all about tina turner
right now...
  is it me, but when comparing
english accents, australian
   sounds rather, posh,
when tailored against american?

god, i love that accent...
       canadian?
    because of quebec, it doesn't count
as even remotely english...

but the didgeridoo
           wonga-wonga-****-****?
all i heard is that perth is so far removed
that sydney so further than dziakarta
   (jakarta)...
               tina ******* turner...

a building is burning, a colt comes into
the discussion, the tower-block
   is gushing out suffocating smoke
                     in west london...
     i'm guessing about 1000 people have
been bbq'd...    and all the journalist
keeps saying:
   apologies for the rude language,
oh, i have to apologise for the rude language...
  
                 you ******* kidding me, right?
stop, trying, to, be, my, english, teacher!
   over 1000 people were scortched
in that tower-blow, and you're actually
worried about me using the word ****?!
    you have to be kidding me...
really...
                     and so: the slow death of
20th century media...
                        socialism two-point-oh;
if they're not panicking,
   i really don't know why they're still
a credible journalistic outlet;
i.e. considering themselves as such.

It's a government plot

give them a hot day
then give them one cold
tell them they're young
even though they are old
make them work longer
pay them less wonga
tell them it's for their
own good.

papa will the  glory corrupt   05.08.18

the man was running
this was no south korean variety test
positive *** was gunning
have to do homework in iveagh bequest.
lips are tight
its the poetry that's loose
wonga to some could delight
could it drop from this  goose.
possibly twist and change
corrupt and alter
one flew of the cuckoo's nest will derange
the chief and sink might drip water.
thanks for jogging
change of scene was clever
not one for a quick bunk or snogging
but never say ?.