BUBBLE MEMORY
in the bubble of a moment
I learnt all rights are unsung
as the crust of empire tots up
Oh chortling telly totty
in the penetrations of space time
everybody tries the rigid poser
stop the darkling leaking and looping
all through a Saturday night
who cares about a small rodent rage
when birds flop out of a white sky
and elders operate in the plural
fingering the greased love-button of starvation systems
how can you burn up and down our targets
and paddle towards amniotic bliss
or is this a covert God-Death
because we can’t face the maths
I or whoever organise my days around a bright factoid
around and around
rampant in the scriptorium of gel
I keep piling it on
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