depression’s my driver
that’s how it feels
an oily striver
who greases the wheels
with high grade angst
performance anxiety
dread in the tanks
wired by psychiatry
I hate the way
he wears his hat
says thas’ okay
and shit like that
I’d walk if I could
but I’m doomed to ride
he’s no damn good
but my hands are tied
here they come running for all they’re worth
making progress, selling the earth
military mouths, corporate holler
ignoring warnings, spawning dollar
there’s gold in them thar’ juicy rocks!
so prime the pumps! feed the stocks!
gold tooth flashes, dirty dances
while a distant figure slowly advances
dragging the world in her coal black cape
till you make a hasty excuse and escape
to party on the deck of a flickering liner
run aground on the sandbank of her upturned timer
sirens sit on slippery rocks
singing sweetly in kelpy frocks
their vibe so slick
you feel heartsick
and want to sail there pretty quick
ending up wrecked
dead of neglect
seasalt burns, seagull pecked
(lash yourself with ropes to the mast
carry on sailing safely past)
leaders stand in public view
reading words from an autocue
their schtick so slick
you feel heartsick
turn off the TV pretty quick
ending up cynical
hypercritical
of anyone sounding remotely political
(check the facts, the social environs
vote for genuine people not sirens)
a city whizz with a rampant ego
treats the country like an easy casino
but really what the hell do we know
about those oxbridge, public school pythons
they breed to lead but mostly to siphon
abundant funds from here to the horizon
covered up with sleights n’ tricks
I’m sorry – I don’t do politics
a tailored tyrant with a nanny complex
hale n’haughty lord snooty god bless
suckled on success, dressed to depress
dreaming of kisses and nighty nighty
tucked up tight in good ol’blighty
empire for hire, right n’white
throwing not shade but flagged eclipse
I’m sorry – I don’t do politics
suddenly your business closes
you can’t pay rates the council imposes
in come cuts the government proposes
weep as they weaponise the culture
bleed all public infrastructure
till they send you to war and you’re really fuck’d yeah
how does that all sound to you?
if you don’t do politics, politics does you
I gave the lawn a generous margin
to make myself a wild flower garden
I mean – sure! all the seeds I scattered
I hadn’t gone out in the wild and gathered
but bought them from a shop online
straight from the store direct to mine
it’s good to buy from a place like that
guaranteed, securely wrapped
on a laptop made from metal and plastic
plugged in the mains, WiFi-tastic
factories, marketing, distribution networks
corporations with extraordinary net worths
the system set, widely dispersed
mission statements well rehearsed
for people who dig unruly borders
to fight against the law n’order
meanwhile
the plants persist: seeds, roots
invisibly beneath your boots
however you dig, the plants know best
moving out slowly beneath the surface
waiting on the moment when
the greening planet is theirs again
pinocchio’s giving a conference tonight
strung out in all the flashing lights
the blue fairy stating the known unknowns
while his nose pushes over the microphones
dumbo’s down with a case of the grumps
the circus taken by the clowns and the trumps
his mouse denounced, his handler minted
his magic feather flogged on vinted
sleeping beauty makes the rent
by cutting meth with steradent
her body stiff but her lips still ruby
her prince away on a tour of duty
snow white trills, swiping right
7 more dwarfs on the bill tonight
onlyfans always makes her babble
that and that bitch with the poisoned apple
incoming flagged on the iron dome!
mary poppins in like a drone
with a mission to flatten the whole damned city
with a bag full of swag and a heart full of pity
spit spot
spit spot
hurry along children, don’t get shot
walruses snooze
wherever they choose
one tusk hooked in the floe
sea otters snore
in rafts offshore
drifting paw to toe
koalas nap happily
high in the canopy
of australian botanica
swifts have an aptitude
for dozing at altitude
half way back from Africa
spiders catch zeds
in zigzag beds
dangling a la mode
people siesta
in ford fiestas
parked up by the side of the road
a worldwide slumber
everything zonked
stilled without number
in mountains or swamps
an old time lullaby
the dreams it brings
the earth’s soft hushabye
she sings as she spins
jim clayton 