When did you know
the line was broke,
snapped pinging back
in alarm-bellied shock?
When did you know
the news was crook
as twisted torsioned casters read
what you had not seen or heard?
When did you discover the soup
of fogged ideals and slippery slopes?
All that righteous assertion
gone the second they did not
turn back the tide,
nor change the orbital path
of human misery.
Were you fifteen or fifty
when you knew that politicians lied?
It is
A nightmare.
They dream
To build
A new house
With
Fire
And
water.
You still whisper in your dreams
though the nightmare’s over
or sort of
if you’re not thinking of Panama
just now
along your house,
long gone with all the love within it,
along years of hard work toiling
building up profits for somebody else
who does not sit in Panama
but sits comfortably ruling countries
comfortably ruling you
who is definitely not your neighbour who
also runs his life
just like you
from the bunk beds
who also stares at the ceiling
if not his view is blocked
by the bottom of yours.
reubenwoolley 