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Bonzer Words!: To Be Free

"Life in the gleaming goldfish bowl that is the ubiquitous shopping city is stressful to all who go there,'' declares Dermott Ryder.

Life in the gleaming goldfish bowl that is the ubiquitous shopping city is stressful to all who go there: the rent-ravaged shopkeepers, the carnivorous shoppers, the scowling, support and maintenance groundlings, the gangs of dribbling, testosterone driven youths, the strutting, underpaid, overweight gun-toting security androids, the corporate trained, career conscious middle management clones, the scurrying cockroaches and of course, the innocent crinoids.

Hate being here;
surrounded by cigarette ends,
tortured by the never ending
cacophony and the pulsing, purple light
from the industrial deafness, drug crazed,
idiot emporium just across the way.

Never get a decent break.
I'm on watch, a sentinel.
Can't see the real sunlight,
or get a meal on time.
Been waiting ages for a deep,
refreshing drink,
loathe the toxins dripping
from crushed coke cans.

Don't count Gloria Jean's
coffee dregs either.
They don't slake my
eternally demanding thirst.
If there were a law against
cruelty to coffee beans
Gloria Jean, whoever she is,
would get a flogging.

Hate being here, by order,
so close to these tables,
can't bear the plastic chair
backed against the pillar.
It's a corpulent woman's
favourite feasting seat.
She comes to it eagerly,
almost every working day.

Comes for her morning
cappuccino and lemon slice,
her lunchtime long black,
meat pies and carrot cake,
her afternoon latté and
whatever delight's on special.
She's a caffeine junky,
binge eater, a flatulent fifty.

What fool claimed that
women don't do that?
This one's a dead set
weapon of mass destruction.
If there were a laws
against cruelty to furniture,
we would bury this
methane marauder at sea.

Hate being here, on the edge
of the main food hall.
Rather be in the cool doorway
of a posh frock shop,
mix with the slim, lithe,
fast and fiercely fashionable,
and share my joy in greening
with the beautiful people.

If I can't, I want to be free,
escape from this prison.
I ache to live in a green forest.
I yearn to see blue sky,
feel refreshing spring rain,
and gentle, cooling wind,
to reach out and touch
my proud, primordial past.

Can't stand being here, in a plaster pot,
in a shopping mall, detest the always
in a great hurry, autocratic centre manager.
If there were laws against unrelenting
cruelty to banana trees we would plant
this unfeeling, pinstriped, gongoozlers in poo.


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