Roads that rumble along
Wild and loose with
Errant, slapping tongues.
In the baked heat of a
Civilised full stop.
We bask, drive and shuffle,
Skin crisping and eyes
Guarded from rays.
All sevens gears automated
To churn, sinful in bliss.
We ascend to be stunned and
Descend to be sunned, again.
Gross misjudgement sings
In these hills;
Rattles off tin roofs aslanted
And words struggle through
The smog and stench of filth.
Palaces hold us; the height
Offers us a view
Of these
Insolent, laughing masters.
Life’s rates set deep in stone,
Established by a waning throne,
We cross ourselves
Yet judge thee unworthy
For a great mistrust
They will remain dirty.
Segment, beset, and shelve,
Unbidden,
For it is to a different hell,
This corpse shall
be ridden.
#365DaysOfPoetry