Pipe Dreams (Poem)

The wars of the world never heal
Never die
Hail to the throne
Glory to the kill

The games of the thrones don’t save
Only lie
Beckon to the call
Buy your wasted time

Dreams
Of the famous
And the riches
And the pride
Of the mansions
And the pensions
Picket fences
Little dogs

Slaves to your heartache
There is no sight to your aim

Pipe dreams
in the waters
that bring new life
to your blame

High off the horizon
Nothing, no-one slow you down

There’s no reason
Rhyme or wisdom
That will bring you to the ground

Treading on the lowly
Silence of the lambs
Masquerading liberty
Free to play your hand

But your hand is in the fryer
Like a frog in a pot

First it simmers
Then it boils
Then turns mince into slop

Pipe dreams in the waters
Nightmares falling down

Dreams
Of the riches
And the famous
And the proud