Poem of the Day — Wake up Small time

Wake up Small time

Chortle a laugh a minute, scrimp and save for a biscuit crumb existence

When levelled cement holds bricks together

Weathered by storms of sunshine

Wine flowing like blood from a slit pig

Rigged up to be highly sensitive

Cribbing Saviours from the banks with nothing

Smothering belief in annul systems

Rhythms beaten by professional politicians

To shell all people with buckets of lies

Eyes crimson hearts turned inside out

Shout for a mean streak to capture the programme

Uncle Sam calls soldiers for no particular reason

The season for killing will be upon us

Hush up the real story that is covered by corruption

Suction taking the air out of the lungs for breathing

Seething sewers drowning rats

The size of cats

With woollen hats

Splattered in cushions of shame

Lame from the beating

Cheating the depth charge hunters

Punters blessed for hanging

Quest beholding

The sun over the horizon

Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 26th September 2015

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