The Society of All Work and No Play

"Work hard. Do your best."

"Earn some Brownie Points."

"Sincerely Loved And Valued Employee."

Schools condition it.

Managers demand it.

Prices enforce it.

It's all a lie.

Victorian values.

Long dead, but exhumed.

Still rotting.

They say that "Laziness is a sin."

They can get in the fuckin' bin.

It's a society of all work and no play.

To preserve the masters' wealth,

we must sacrifice our health.

I'll contribute to that.

The rag's in the bottle.

Pass the lighter.

A Troubled Brow

A day of celebration, 

to mark a coronation.

When many face desperation,

It's a cause of consternation.

Burdened by the cost,

of a gift we never asked for,

To elevate a patriarch.

A family rotten to the core.

Food banks are closed,

Users have to wait.

While an inbred toff blocks,

Separating church and state.

A time for the royals,

to rejoice and ensconce.

But be careful;

One of them's a nonce.

Time to clean house.

Scrap this archaic institution.

Replace it with a more,

democratic constitution.

The future monarchy

Should be confined,

To fiction and fantasy.

To Be a Brick

My dying wish.

Is to become a brick.

I know, it sounds weird,

Perhaps even sick.

But I want my ashes mixed,

Into a brick.

Engrave it with a message

Insightful stories:

"This is Skeff, he says

'Fuck the Tories'".

I could be part of place,

that I hold dear.

Somewhere that loans books

Or is selling beer.

Maybe one journey.

How about London?

Pay a visit to 10 Downing,

Or 55 Tufton.

Their front rooms look nice.

Better than this locker.

Society's a Prison

Society's a prison,

Run for profit.

In which we're born,

Without permission.

It breaks your back.

Bleeds you dry.

Paying bills,

Until you die.

School is conditioning,

Gears for the machine.

Using mark schemes,

To kill your dreams.

Ready to work,

In the machine.

Up at dawn.

Enough coffee,

To endure the drive.

Making a fifty.

Earning a five.

Want to make art?

Enjoy life?

Tough shit.

No time for that.

In the machine.

Want to work less?

They'll raise your bills.

Living in fear,

Of losing it all.

Want to take, not toil?

The masters do.

And not  want you to.

Try it anyway,

Go to prison.

What's the difference?

Society's a prison.

The Fallacies of Sleep

I'm a night owl

In an early bird society

School days

Time to get up

Crack of dawn

Gotta catch a bus

Get to school

I'm tired

I can't think straight

The teacher doesn't give a toss

"Go to bed earlier"

Should have stayed in bed

Go home

Bedtime

Can't doze off

Lie in bed

Stare at the ceiling

It's the weekend

Lie in bed

Checks the time

7:00 am? Fuck!

Can't doze off

Now what

Get a job

Same old shit

Now with coffee

Need to be up

Still can't sleep

Think about things

I won't write down

Clocks go forward

That shit's the worst

First Monday,

"Oscar Day"

For the slapping urge

Lost in the Woods

The palm reader takes my hand
I see a man lost in the woods,

With no faith in the future,

Who feels persecuted by fate.

Little to look forward to,

And little to lose.

A man who drifts,

Like a leaf, on the wind.

Where the wind will take you,

I cannot say.

I see a man lost in the woods.

Who prefers it that way.

The Lumberjack's Axe

Head of steel
Body of wood
King of the forest

Fells the trees
Who pledge loyalty
A body of wood
Doesn't make a tree

The trees see
A body of wood
They support
They submit

To the King of the Forest
A royal puppet
To the hand
Which profits