I havent written poetry for years, just trying to get back into the flow writing rough, unedited drafts, all of which lack passion and substance, as flat as my chest, written from a brain numbed from electric shock treatment and anti psychotic meds, but if I keep on pushing myself, eventually, something worth saying, might just make it through the haze. In The House. Political egos bashing crashing smashing pockets bloated with tax payer cash greenback hard-ons cream for condoms dressed up in designer suits Fat cat Key smirks quips sarcastically makes a lame joke to some bloke in Labour laughter ensues from both sides each grooms and brides alike cut the cake a sugar sweet deal baked to take the blade with agreements being made to benefit trade the Speaker calls for order no political voice shall cross the border that exposes corruption to those outside who cant afford to pay for access into the political love nest where domestic disputes are publicly displayed in front of defacto children those who remain locked out forgotten about left alone to sit outside on a cold concrete stoop.
Posted on: Sat, 02 Aug 2014 22:20:10 +0000
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