Poppycock Cornucopia – Issue 31

ANTHEM FOR THE DOOMED OF ALL AGES

The ultimate bore, pointless-22 barrel discharges us

in serried ranks we shuffle, studying our shadows for signs of life entrenched in our ruts.

We are bright, shiny shells made for war

to be fired regularly by strangers with mirrors of death in their portfolios, laminated against the mud that sticks nevertheless,

we all wallow with app-cleaned consciences obeying squalid squeezing squads primed to attention to pitiful, petty puerile particulars.

Edicts and diktats beaming logos gnaw at freedom’s flesh like routinely ravenous rats.

The paragons of virtual have yet again appropriated the legally tender litter, leaving streets occupied by the criminally inane.

Co-opted societies reap the dividends of terror, bigotry and casual cruelty.

Suffocating in subservience, grasping for heir, genuflecting before authoritarian good fortunes.

Nausea reigns: we idly chant, “A deity (we don’t believe in), protect an icon of non-democratic idolatry!”

GRAVE DESECRATED BY IMMORAL VANDALS

With the same, merely polite exchange rhetoric, a government body which is applying an ideology of class, economic, anti-christian persecution of the vulnerable, will apologise.

The agency is reluctantly accepting that an error was made in the mechanics of the process. Yet, in this puny ‘sorry’ is a reluctance to recognise their role in an unavoidable  death of someone they claimed to support.

The only admittance from this punitive, politically charged agency is one of inefficiency rather than moral culpability for causing despair in a vulnerable person who needed support and understanding, not 1984-O’Brien-type callous, even cruel logic.

Lest we forget.

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PROPAGANDA

Outside the social economic milieu, the proles looked in through the bent window: they heard right-wing rhetoric of a country fit for heroes being jointly incanted by previously opposing sides.

The proles looked first at the No campaigners, then at the Yes campaigners, and then back again from one to the other, and couldn’t tell them apart.

Lest we let them forget.

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