I haven’t forgotten your plastic incredulity

as you maintain that a person can live on seven pounds a day,

I just don’t want you to think that just because

the mere mortals, the poor, the generous hearted,

those that work  to keep you in the lifestyle

of your choosing

the lifestyle of the miserable and the man who misses the whip

that  he could have used in days gone past in the plantation

as he rides over the emotion of the down at heel or

perhaps more likely he wishes with some girlish glee

that he could have shook the hand of Mosley

or even the black hearted one himself,

just so some of that barbarity could rub off on him

and then on his wife’s back he could snap his fingers

and order that the poor and starving be used to build the new

Dark Satanic Mills, preferably from their own bones;

I don’t want you to think we have forgotten,

look over your shoulder at night

for the sight of your master urging you on

as hopefully one day you will be forced to retract all

you have laid down before.

 

The only comfort I find in your life,

is that one day you will be dead and your new job

as Satan’s daily sex toy will keep you busy

and on half your so called pittance,

the only trouble

is I will probably have left this

Earth before you

and have to clean the cum

tempore out of your lying arse

and on a pre-loaded card

in which you will dock me my seven pounds.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015