Robert Verdon, #194, Red Herrings

lint blows against the window

someone has left an old washing machine outside

no-one is picking it up

oh for twin-tubs of yesteryear

there is a chocolate smear on the soul of the invisible horizon

the world picks itself up like a fiddlestick for a breath

oh the groundwater as its granular manipulations go on

saving us we hope from

the fatalistic poppycock of the powers that be

in the interests of the great unwashed

the sky wears a medal like a long-unrecognised nurse

friends of freedom moan about reckless voting

kow-towing to the cleanly cowed

misery has the face of celebrity

the unknown are culled

red herrings are at a premium in today’s market.