The Stage is Livid Red.

The Stage is Livid Red.

The stage is livid red, the edges
sprinkled gold.
The Politician clothed in black
stands centre stage.
He paints in colours primary…
and speaks hyperbole,
Like barristers who fix the trial….

The war-hawks plot and slay…
…obliterate.
And us…the shackled beasts,
The ring is through our nose

We are the International Fools.
The stooges with our feet in clay.
The countess and the emperor,
The sultan and the oligarch,
The caesar and the kaiser.
The cheapskate on the make.
The workers at the gate.
The maiden pink beside a sink

The spider does not care for us..
She spins in silent symmetry …
afraid of us.
Nature ..and her geometry,
The nautilus..the ammonite…the trilobite,
are lost on us

The snake becomes a price-tag .
The leopard skin a rug,
The cow a saddle-bag.
The chicken bubbles into stock,
The elephant is butchered on
its walk.

The stage is livid red..the edges
burning hot.
Power slaughters all,
ignores the cries that emanate.
And we who are so contradictory….
Leave everything for dead…

Kristine Byrne 19th sept 2018
Arklow Graffiti ..The Tortured Octopus.