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You may think that all is ruined
In fact everything is in exactly the perfect place.

Where were you during the Black Death
The Hundred Years War
The sacking of Baghdad by the Mongol hordes
The fall of all previous eras as mentioned in
The mine Qur’an?
We forget ourselves
We get lost in worry
This amazing new time
This amazing good fortune to be here.
What stops the boredom of the news?
What starts the excitement of your heart?

Is it that you’re sick of eating as you watch
the fat diabetes epidemic
sick of sex as you watch
the celebrity scandals sordid epic
sick of politics as you watch
their inept news repeating flick
sick of police, NHS, media, banks, 
making 1% big business tick
sick of criminals poisoning sex, food and security,
nick nick …. nick nick
Your own constitution sickened as
their Articles of Constitution fail …. to trick?

Sick of being sick?

This sickness is in exactly the right place.

When you know you’re sick you will seek a curing
When you accept that you’re ill
You’ll stop blaming yourself and others
When you hear of some other others telling of recovery
From the Stygian mountains of terror and fear
You might just be ill enough …. to hear.

Listen, listen to your need
As it sings it’s song of loss of greed
Of waking up to hope and luck
A cleaning of Augean muck ….
Listen ….

Near …. so very near.

Then act your act to a different writer
Strut your stuff to a different tune
Reach for the route to a Love reunion,
Quick, your personal path is waiting;
Before the curtain fall of rote
Audiences just another wasted Tope.

About Andrew Dettman

Counsellor, poet, cabbie, diction worker. Ministrant.
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