This holiday of universal equality
clattered like a coin and rolled
through the crowd and nobody
believed it-dancing resumed
like a hoarse siren bearing
the pure and impure division where
walls are prisons to company carrying death
put the interest of the nation first get
to courting it doesn’t matter no body lives
in Hampstead anyway, the local hospital
prefecture appeared calmly tranquil
in barricade tape you now feel the
strategy verbatim is a kiss that would
carry death over the abandoned streets and
further like a wide mandatory forecast angel
the general absence of envy of the present
in relation to the future we trouble ourselves with.
Your hamstrings shrink, your hands cringe
over crock you fall apart repeatedly-
at least you're armed
with two knuckle dusters,
a cricket bat and spam before
any SHTF situation explodes onto the streets
this is known and contamination
is the darkest rhombus under this
floral boarder of the garden
the army built a large mud oven
to cook the biggest Lord Woolton pie
ever which will be evenly distributed
throughout the respective messes and
eaten before the Ark.
All new members
will have to give up their birthright
by removing the welcome mat
for the foreseeable
future bodies end the story now
is in need to shoot the birds
out of the sky as contactless effete
remits to downed rhythm thank air
again in some sheltered silent fluid they
hope all will return in breathless
wait its precious but tasteless seed
we will eat again this great package.
