Breughel sings for his supper in U.K. Inc.

 

 

 

Were I to attach this wire to a conch could I talk to the sea as well as listen

To mended ways, bees that hum?

In “the land of opportunity" poesis brings a Peacemaker to go on.

After a hundred days the IceCream Men had fallen in battle

Like torches in the mud

To the Offended Lie, a new protocorporate lobby that is actually a revolutionary movement.

There were ovaries in the trees.

This then the birthplace of Baby Fruit.

BBQ'ed mouths decorate the inarticulate,

A bitter geography whispered me to call an ear,

To cheer aspiring waves. No.

Was I Ill then of no cause and less effect?

We're down in the muddy suck the interstices of the you and me

A place to fuck and mushy seas,

Black water and ripe disease.

Tease me then if I see no hope

Like bananas slipping on the soap,

The sexiness of fear when I leer into the gap,

Absorb me if you can, single me out as a man for worse

To come

Of peels of skin, liar laughs

Smirks under the skirts of cannons singing and canonical bling.

Where the birds fly upside down the purge is on

No 3D of space, no 3D time but the threnody one line they say

Should the decline belong to us

Then meaning will belong to the less.