Too Many Free Rides

Fat people park their cars get out and shop

Drinks and cigarettes; young waddling overweight

Prohibited car parking seems as if it never could

Mean anything but: Park

 

As near the grocery entrances as the space permits

In jam and gridlock cars pile up in stacks outside

Minimum walkers, young people, go fat and pastey pale

Bigger than I myself am: 20 stone

 

No consciousness, compunction, understanding of the shape

Their bodies are not in; nor none for crippled guys

Or elderly whose journeys all the further, necessarily,

No spaces left, and neither fellow-feeling

 

All hours into the late of evenings day on day

Cars and small vans draw up – unnecessary slams of doors –

Fat guys and fat dolls loll out pour their bodies from the seats

Inflated Mr Blobby bubbles wandering into care

 

Fat guys fat ladies early middle aged

Floating on pavement motorscooters, the resplendently disabled

Hazards pedestrians have to spot, at speed they sit and shop

Too arsed to walk the distance are their minds; that roll

 

Instead upon their special pleadings, welfare claims that oil the wheels

Claimant forsooth, impute a disability, a tidy sum

Donated, sequestrasted, from the public purse

Buys buggies, motor cars, bus fares, respite, outings, and tired ennui

 

Thinking it smart to be beseemed a mid-life cripple

Throwing oneself on State compassion for the not so sick

Excepting such have attitudes to life and independence

Are sick; OK to be a failure as a person

 

If fat submerges minds, their minds are sunken

Into a pillowed squadge of olio-like cream

Smothering derrogations in a deadened indolence

Dead in the water lie their honest civic lives

 

Only their physical bodies linger yet to catch up

By dying with their outlooks which count barren thought

To linger out longer they draw on the bounteous gratis boons

Of A&E and Casualty and mass prescription calls

 

And to what object no-one thinking really knows

Clinging to living deaths with such tenacious agony

Drawing off too much fabric from upright society

Hamstringing impetus and urgency to heed

 

The lame the sick the poor the guys in clear and present need

At home across the world our giving figures fall fatigued

Too many causes, rude, bad instances of loose abuse

Following gravy trains of faking it

 

Even are daily beggars on the busy public streets

A pollution; lazy bones rather would they ply and skim

As counterfeited indigents by facile false pretences:

Could work, could help themselves, and not take penury’s pence

 

Soft soaping, selling pity, moving passers-by to grieve

Then hooking straight with comrades thronging up and down the street

Dividing up the spoils, accept of someone elses bread

So keep themselves in liquors

 

And thus are alms curtailed for needy damaged goods

Who interspersed amongst them need a spell in wards

And treatment, caring for; poor paupers in a bad way

Persons life-dwindling straightway right before one’s eyes

 

Who cannot help themselves, by whose leave others

Make mockery their state, fake tacit imitations

Untruthful insincere thereby demolishing good faith

And ample moral fabric by their ugly subterfuge

 

These dudes who will refuse all help because

This life is one they choose to further, perpetrate,

Offers of shelter send them spinning helter-skelter on their way

Aghast at rocket speed their legs are up and running

 

Or offer them some small change being all your pocket

‘Forget it’; signally too light to make their want prevail;

Not good enough for no-goods, playact fussy bedesmen,

Not an affront; just scathing

 

Such is our world in many places in these times

Too many of us well-content to win our mealboard sideways

Begging on streets or propagating shady business coups;

Scams recognised by law disgrace their culprits and our life

 

Too many easy-money chasers set for easy bucks

Creasing out crooked wheezes, subtleties that soak the system,

Money rackets miring vital store of self-esteem

In each of us, by pitch are all defiled.

In an Age of Tired Truth

As camouflage a crafted style amounts to politics

Ideolog smithys all the while

Hammer-on, turning ploughshares into vicious steels

Fettling up such salacious stuffs to kill with; under principle;

Deeply thereunder unhandsome lies their currency of skill

 

Broadside bespoilers orgify indictments, undertaking deft

Redactions that bend their centrefolds’ real-time sincerity,

Image projectors draw up goodly rulers, public schoolers

Of morals;

Who truth-tell miscellaneous models of conviction,

 

Convicting at once wholesale and absolute a population,

Unfamiliar with

The sweet conversants hid in idyll lyric ideologies;

Fodders whose sufferings speak of power-grabs in sighs

A shade indifferent, yet all the more the assured,

Entirely.

 

Be ye beware the honours laid on scrining heads of state

Endowed by self to self for self-same-self’s own sake,

Insignias they drape over scarred eviscerated landscapes

On moons where dress-up lookalikes play Tammerlaine

 

Buck Mulligan big words to salet, dress, their gutted meats

The heaps of broken bodies, litter caracassing the streets

Served up, and seasoned; cooked on prejudices

Sophisticats admire; a spread of equal comfortable ease

Finds tolerable digestion,

 

Rummage-bag war-words pirouette, proliferate self-defence

Tracing a delicate lilting lift, then unctuous genuflection

Their grateful arms uptake the fashionistas at high-tea

Self-referenced by their grievance

 

Their works only uneasy worn when lone before bare ghosts,

Raised-up on favours buttonholing the bigger ballot box,

When willingly to blow and bend, main chance any cost,

For any loss projected on the residues of time

“Take what you can! – Give nothing back!” (citation: Jack Sparrow and Mr Gibbs)

Science arranges nature as men tend their gardens

To answer a convenient pleasantry

Minds outwardly displaying, show their content in their portraits

A patch of earth; a process, or some gadgetry

 

Drawn down on a banked collateral evolved, laid under;

By invisible selfless hand at work jobbing unceremoniously

Which does not market, advertise, contract-with, brand, or sell

Silent and salient mass producer of life’s bottom drawer

 

Some such is in its logic prior to, in time also

Set previous; and a master’s seat providing thus,

As sated gardeners draw in pleasure, being their labour’s pay

This lord of all earth’s glories sits on Summer’s evening day

 

Contented with fit satisfactions such a master sits

Equal of quiet homage owns a non-audacious peace

Forgoing contests for comments brimming over a neighbour’s wall

The upstanding gratulations of men’s subtle friendly foe

 

Unheard, unregistered, this blithe master simply rests

Happy to be providing singing birds in feathered nests

Intrepid ransacks, goings-on beseige his open door

Thinking the master out men taking cue would rob the store

 

Making themselves thus masters with insurgent curly tails

Or thinking so, science thei rbecoming fairway garden

Yielding them garlands of ornament in exponential glamour

Tin, copper, iron, aluminium, gold

 

Lavish this ravishment and sonorous the lauds

The sub-tenant masters ingather to their metalled souls

Vaster than master true might want to hanker, presuppose

Rankles in heads infatuate dirigible

 

Can you dig it? Good! Go dig it! Raise a mountain mining town

People it and bedraggle it with wraiths constraint curtails

Knee high in scorious silts in loin cloths set them sifting folds

The master’s fairest earth’s-extracted, comminuted

 

Contaminants sanguine scented waft their crazy money fumes

Like sharks across the ocean snuff for palatable meats

High guys in lofty towers prattle, dandle forks and knives

Menus awaiting

 

Mimicking masques at being masters, fashioning in their heads

Graven and set up adorned high tables ceremoniously

Mirroring their afflictions, affections showing selves abjectly

They worship. Food to think on…?

 

Which high hombres spurn widowed: that their loaded scales should skip

Unstable as the basement drifts they’re leaned upon

And baseless and those power dreams their egos preened on

Assuming unassuming grace presumes a coup deposal

 

Disposal of the spoils had from the reaches of the planet

Deposal and disposal of that providence germane

Of riches truly riches and not hijacked plundered offal.

That come should come tomorrows of a natural consequence

 

That Tom should raid the larder every merry midnight feast

Should throwaway all precaution in his fervid feeding fit

Pantechnicons of groceries, and him forever underwrit

And before he bursts exhaustion he could suffer

 

A world worn out by aggravated knife assault

Cuttings that like a cake a slice in here, a portion there

Feeds and increases appetites anticipation-drawn

On a rich addiction

 

No counting costs; be doffed, till loss has everything

Take what you like the master says, but you need pay for it;

Yet givings-back are proceedings in a temperate counsel

Finding for a due regard against profligacy