Political Correctness
I’m really in several heaps of sugar
This way!
How to break open the gates of the pub
& let the cows out
There’s been a severe storm in there
Plenty of eggs for the pavlova
But who to milk the credit card for all its chickens
I don’t belong on this farm
I belong to the mountain
& its not what I’m talking about
It’s not my preoccupation
That is my summersault opening
In the rinse
My whites & reds came out aubergine
& I’m obsessed with it
Now that the gallaghs are finally competing on an
unequal footing
& the mind is in different boxes
Polyrhythmic
& I won’t let it out
Because as Plato announced
It is a little devil like wind up chattering teeth
So best be gagged
Because the audience can’t be entrusted with
complexity
Best to stir in plenty of sugar
& forget me plentys
Sequin pants & a showgirl dance
The flesh trumps the tail
There is too much treasure for man not to turn into
base metal
I shall bleed with decorum
At home & in secret
Men do the manly thing here & buy a shotgun.
Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2023.
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