Zak Mould
Still farting around
unsettled, fidgety,
detached, remote?
Then go take Dump!
Tick the Box!
Sign out!
*
Hazy murk soon spreads,
dampens the daylight,
giant hogweed encroach
harbouring malicious intent
*
You to blister, to paralyse,
to analyse stragglers,
scantily clad day-trippers,
pale gormless nudists,
innocent blithe minors,
demented wayward majors.
*
Normality is resumed at last.
The regular service
The bland repast.
A strict diet of worms and woodlice.
The occasional festive
peppering of capers.
Stuffed Olives if you’re lucky.
*
So, go Squawk
Scrabble and squabble
for scraps cooped up in your hovel.
Grovel for a drop to drink
acknowledging your unworthiness
with ingratitude and contempt.
Grimbeau 