The Man Above.

In media res,

We halted,

Sermons trodding on our

Sodden toes.

We became futilitarians of some sort

And barely could pronounce it , we

Joined sects, bemused

Consuming vegetables in their masses

And chanted before stricken statues

Fully clothes marble megalomaniacs

With jejune eyes lit with

Lust and fascination,

Rocking to the celestial dirge of

Madness.

Slots for your wealth,

Pour in your hearts.

We

Paved the roads with parasites

And processions of gun fire

We felt tall on our stools

In self-indulgent solipsism

That ruptured all reason

And knelt before martyrs and cheats

In which we wholly believed.

She bowed before you

And we followed

The villagers watching;

Widows in black,

Ragged teeth glaring

Urging us on

To the sound of the bells

And unrhyming mantras

To which we devoted our nakedness.

Poltroons,

Recoiling from all that bore sense

Heads held low,

We marched stodgily in stupors of phantasmagoria

And devoured watches, clocks and myriad crabs

Which skulked along the tarmac

Otiose and dreamlike

Spitting fiercely at Darwin’s fantasies.

You always lied to me.

You said I’d come to my senses

Faith, but in stringless puppets

Bleak and ignorant

Ingesting tales of supposed wisdom

Secure beneath rooftops

Of shrieking institutions

Ridden with lies and fantasy;

You said somehow it would make sense.

Floods of formaldehyde

In third world countries

Disgust and despair

And rotting consumers

With protruding ribs

Gasping and tubeless

All dreading the daylight

Stealing oxygen

And masking motives

What about those tsunamis

Of Moroccan lust

Which surged

And broke your bones

In alleyways of truth?

Creeking floorboards of shame

Manifesto of the poltergeists,

Wailing in plastered bathrooms

And a child’s scaffolding with multi-coloured seas

Dancing with idioms

In grubby bathtubs over sheens of limescale and disgust

Where you pumped me with rhetorics;

A natural born cynic.

They entertained dalliances

With the forgotten

And spoke softly of erotica,

Lit up with childish bed lamps

Swirling and illuminated

Telling stories of tiny princes

And senseless miracles

Conquering the world of

Dreams and the barren land

Where we told truths

And slept through wars.

You always lied to me

You said he was watching.

I was sick to the bone

With vegetables.