Okay, so ...
The politician
Is a nasti piece of work,
And the oligarch
Really is a callous jerk.
All the world's oceans
Are a filthy toilet bowl,
And the floods and fires
Are raging out of control.
I down two cans of beer
Oh – go on! – let's make it three,
To wash away all
My blues and anxiety.
Oh, subtle intimations of the hidden world
That grace our dreams by night and inspire thoughts by day,
Every which way I turn I glimpse some deeper truth
And yet – what use to me, if here unmoved I stay?
There's an incoming message I must deliver,
A note to myself and “To whom it may concern”,
Things are coming to a head, more storms are brewing;
No time for delay – nor yet to the bar adjourn.
In film, book, poetry, art, and common street talk
Blessèd, subversive, kindred souls of secrets hint,
Stirring the dying embers of some age-old fire
Or striking new sparks in kindling with their sharp flint.
