Illusion,

always sold as patriotism,

worse still when packaged

and stamped

by the Vicar’s daughter,

caught with her knickers down

and prepared to engage

in necrophilia

with the ghostly offspring of the grocer

and who is on the side

in thought

of a bitch whose mouth betrays

the evil in her heart;

this illusion we engage with

because it suits us, we keep just

on the side on respectability

because to sink further would betray

the fact that we like our two cars,

television in every room,

Sunday morning indulgences

of being seen as comfortable,

when truly we know, deep down inside,

beyond the heart, and the beast that sucks

at our soul,

that we are one meal away from being screwed

because we have allowed the pain of consumerism

to own us.

Today is your lucky day,

You have the chance to change all this.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017