What fresh hell?
Helicopters threatening hope,
blades flashing, twirling,
the knaves are out.
New school is Old school is all,
but twisted, twisted.
And I have to raise my head
to blue skies
above bullshit,
heart above hypocrisy
This new regime that uses the same old machine
and the things we resisted
are now insisted clench-fisted,
blandly or blindly followed.
It breaks my hollowed heart
Fills me with anger
and despair.
Where do we go from here?
Who are ‘we’ at all anyway?
I’ll stick to the lonesome 'I'
The lyrical confession
in hope for a less bitter vision,
a better version of new.
3 comments:
...it breaks my hollowed heart...that choice of ending "hollowed" is as telling as the rest of the poem's details...hollowed, so close to hallowed, yet so very, very far away.
Same ole, same ole...fresh hell, new name
"new school is old school is all,"
I presume we're talking of a north country madness?! that breaks my heart as well. thankyou...great post.
It is so terrible that it has all started up again TFE - I think it breaks almost everyone's heart.
Post a Comment