the problem with capitalism
it seems to me
it’s impossible to live
with dignity,
when everything
including me,
is exchangeable
for money
i bequeath my possessions
to my financial relations
the house and pension
to the administration
of the barclays banking
corporation
and the poems will
have to be
security
for lloyds tsb
that’s almost it
for the gilet years
a window of calm
between crises
it’s the unseemly quiet
amidst the tempest
when the storm is over
what will be left?
i am channelling the manic street preachers here – natwest…. natwest barclay midlands lloyds…. black horse apocalypse… i love the manics. i do not know if it is ironic or not. i guess the guy did kill himself. probably not.
the love epochal. n.n. benn 