Monday, June 04, 2012

Bling The Jubilee


Shop assistants wilt
Behind the glass fronts
Of designer boutiques
The heat is a direct assault
On the fragile face of glamour

Herds of sheep congregate
On the lip of the river
To worship and be subjugate
To the shallow ideal
To the eggshell charade
To the royal scam

Shop assistants wail
Behind the glass fronts
Of designer cages
The media is a direct assault
On the fractal face of awareness

9 comments:

Harlequin said...

loving the jubilee, i see.

how do ya spell "excess"?

Garth said...

excess? this gives excess a bad name... funny how the French royalty has never tried to get back in...

Garth said...

...or to paraphrase John Lennon: they're still fucking peasants as far as I can see

yodoodz said...

Here in the USA the royalty keep their pomp and crowns in their bank accounts located, most likely, in one of your royalty's former colonies or other. We're all fucking peasants — some see beyond the invisible prison and behold the nature from which it isolates itself — more remote every day by dragging the gullible along by their paycheck, their servitude.

Another evocative piece, brother.

Garth said...

Dood! we are all peasants indeed, but there are those among us who take pride in ther fealty - fucking peasants ;]
Thanks for the drive-by my friend.

Justin R. said...

Glad to proclaim I missed it all....

Nice to see you, to see you not nice.

Garth said...

Justin: never mind, there's always the Yo!lymics to look forward to.
I can't wait.

Confessions of a Temporal Lobe said...

God save the Queen, I really mean it man.

Confessions of a Temporal Lobe said...

God save the Queen, I really mean it man.