Poetry & bingo

There is no news today
Today, no news
How strangely
New today
Without the shouting

In the White House
The president hums
The Stars and Stripes forever 
When making love
To his wife
Or almost anyone
With a dose of fluoxetine
Hair blown thin as gossamer
By his compassionate dreams
Of all out thermo-nuclear
War
An unfolding morning chrysanthemum
To atone for countless misdemeanours

In the quiet of apocalypse day
You can still dance with yourself
If you keep
An appropriate distance
The Holy Spirit in between
As you said, the Mercies used to say
Before they gave it up
For poetry and bingo

Seventy-seven
Gone to heaven
Seventy-eight
Heaven’s gate

With no one left to venerate
We all are martyred now

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *