The Importance of The Working Week

I have been dying to tell of a

Fossilised brain enclosed in a famed wit lives near there.

Thermals are unique and float easily like a lazy river bend.

You are not what we think I am. It is extra-ordinary how this domestic life shines.

Hold it up to light it clamours for approval. 

Get your dog under control I yell. “Easy” is the response.

We are at a standstill terrified in this life while a yapping dog threatens to bite.

Frozen to the spot it is your fear your fault.

Whispers incarnate petrify over frozen ground and dogs are hauled this way and that weary speculators of forthcoming injustice.

In the funnel of being fed alive snatches of conversation like, “for the people” proliferate

in many plastic bags hanging from the trees 

Deck the halls like so much bells and holly threatening to collapse it all

Under its gargantuan weight

For the final head to head.

Like my malevolent concoction of macerated leaves 

Belching up bubbles of green foam silently on the side then maybe

Curl up in a New Age carapace and sit suspended from it, rock bound miles up

Looking through it over and above

This is not real I don’t believe in any of it today.

In its jaws a rough feathery mess of substance, tracery of the body hauled

Dead or dying bleeding still over the village green to be dumped like Punch on the spike of the pub.