Around The Round Table

Comfortably perched
On the squashed,
Breathless dreams of
Socialists and savages,

Around the round table,

Excitedly jigsawing thoughts
Into questionable sentences,

Sat with their dopplegangers,

All white slang and coke,
Blue jokes and ripe talk,

These post-free thinking individuals,
Trade wrinkled stories
Warped at source,

Morse code and multi-sided truths,
Bruised ballads composed
With blunt pencils and moans,

A twisted linguist’s
Dribbled drunk burp
And a new decree for all to hear,

Fake news – it’s fucking fake news!
Those facts are fake,
I know the score,

And in an instant
It’s come full circle
Like an old revolving door,

Around and round,
Around the round table
There’s a flaw.

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