grooming gangs

The Lowest of the Low

Beyond repair, the malfeasant redoubt
Where children were spoiled and renounced
The workhouse bell chimes from the past
A faint tinkle, hauntingly seducing,
As a faint glow in a tunnel of darkness
A ballerina revolves in a musical box,
A watchmaker returns through thick fog
To the poor house of smiling innocents.

Unspeakable truths linger in municipal halls,
Silently screaming through stitched lips
Muffled whelps from a tortured child
Public servants serve to serve themselves
Held to account by perverse dogmas
That spew forth from governmental echelons
A Victorian postcard from the forlorn town
God bless ye merry gentlemen of yore.

Beyond all reason, the sheep gorge on lamb,
Slumbering in black market blankets,
Rearing randomly to suck on the welfare teat
A generation lost on a blindman's watch
The onward creep of social decay
Rookeries spawned once again from neglect
Ghettos of malcontents from dystopian lands
No ifs, no buts, just the lowest of the low.

© Severn Dwyer. 2015

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