Thursday, 7 January 2010


She moved like a bag of lambs
On a slaughter house floor,
And sounded like a broken damn
Left all alone to pour.

Collapsing like an aeroplane
Before its time has come;
Inflating like a paper bag
Without the use of lungs.

She constructed motorways
Over every fault line going,
And drove young souls along them
Without them ever knowing.

And conducted lightening
That rent the band asunder,
And left the detritus to wish
For the return of thunder.

She unfolded paper clips,
And poked them in her ears,
Whilst denouncing malcontents
Who sanctioned other seers.

And collected body parts,
Displayed in comfort zones,
Accruing energetically
Material inside bones.

She acted like her own militia,
Whilst always charging twice,
And shot down raised objections
Of being over priced.

And escaped the usual bonds
Of natural evolution,
Taking on board only fools
Who’d lost their own solutions.

She entered vocal competitions,
And awaited the announcing,
Sure in the certainty of words
She had no hope of pronouncing.

And cleared the fecund matter
That constricted her progression
Towards a life she thought she’d earned
Throughout the long recession.

And travailed like an organ grinder,
Whose monkey had been deported,
Afraid of being the only one
Whose immigration was supported.

Collapsing like a bag of lambs
Whose effect was reverential;
Inflating like a river damn
Whose downfall was eventual.

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