Thursday, 25 February 2016

a one hundred and fifth new poem ... 'westfield inc'



Working in this madness,
Shouting up and down the halls.
Pencil necked employers
Need offices with padded walls.
Hostages to small desires,
Tricked into thinking up big dreams -
Over fermented egos
Scheming beyond their means.
Working in this madness,
Scarlet faces, screaming heads:
A quarrelling triptych of
Pastiche, prescription meds;
Apoplexy, flexi-time,
Limey corporate shtick.
I’m so impressed you keep
Your vest when anyone
Else would shirk off sick.

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