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