The Unfair ground
The heart sinks as if on the world’s oldest broken rollercoaster,
The utter brutality of memory, memorialised in physical sensation.
The destination disappointing the journey, always.
And so I dream of the farce of fairground…
Ghost trains scarier when strapped to seats in unending darkness.
Tests of strength hell bent on you ringing the dumbest of bells
For a token prize.
Poorly sighted rifles chained and unchambered,
Rigged for the wilfully blind by the owner who can’t look you in the eye.
Life’s cowboys come with hats, always.
The reading of palms with unclean hands
And an unclean mind will always tell you what you want to hear,
Should you cross their palm with silver, always.
Roll up your sleeves,
Coz there’s mouths to feed,
And there’s one born every second.