sing a song of silence
a pocket full of why
military wildcats
on a fly by

all this toing and froing
where the fuck do they think they’re going?
there’s no way of knowing
but I’m guessing
they’re monitoring the massing
in the high street
the solitary shoppers flocking
dropping
drumming, drumming
there’s a mad messiah coming
the worst kind
the ordinary, ornery kind
and this one’s not kidding
his tweets are twisted & totally forbidding

so don’t go
please don’t go
stay safe and low
he’s not come to play frisbee with that halo

look at him

just look at him, standing over there
with his seedy, self-cut hair
his big beer belly bare
ignorant of everything
vexed & flexing
furiously texting
‘My God, my God – why hast thou forsaken me?’

smiley