New Wave

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

Life and its ups and downs..
..towns
Becoming cities
Growing into
Monstrosities.

People pushed together
Like storms and weather
They grumble
Rumble
And in this rabid dry tumble they come out
All creased.

At least in the countryside where I reside
We have fresh air that fills the lungs..
..not forgetting the smell of fresh dung which they put on the crops
And then sell to the shops
Where the folk in the city can buy..vegetables to fry.
Stirred?..I could cry.

Abominations of regulations..the world is insane.
Takes in a deep breath
And looks once again..it still looks the same.

Men in the banks..those corporate tanks..it's a war
We fight on each and every side
Even in these hamlets where the gentlefolk reside.

There's not a hope..no release..
..from the unceasing march, of the shiny suits
Who would with their boots seek to trample and tred..
..and that being said,
We should surrender?

Tender our resignation and in utter frustration go home.
This is the New Rome we have built
Guilt you can keep.
I'm going to sleep
Tomorrow is only a dream.