In this age it would seem
Poverty is an illness
The poor with their insanity, stupidity, inanity
When all their life has been a cage.

The multinationals have a taste
For other people’s suffering
The only honest business is in waste
And alcoholics’ recovering

Guernsey Post

I can feel the springiness of the tyre;
I can feel the speed of the wheel

Echoeing back from the hollow walls The
sound of the receding car

The conquering hero comes back to his lair
From land where blood has been shed
These were battles in foreign parts
Wherever their brave captain led

Mundarvelous !

It’s the shit-fed complacency
That’s getting me down
It’s the forces of darkness
Running all over this town
The phallocentric discourse
Of which I’m a part
The parting grin
On the face of the old fart
You say, “I’m alright Jack,
“Don’t rock the boat.”
Well I’d sink the wretched thing
Rather than cast my vote!


Copyright Â© Christopher J Hudson 1997