Culprit’s Cusp

The bright sun is torching my tepid pale skin

As it burns through the shackles of my fermented sin

Basking in my sadness, the solar winds begin to blow

They’re telling me come out, they’re asking me to grow

Parrots

Canary Wharf

The Baltic Jungle

Cold are the charts

That wind through the skyline

The daily grind

Living on timeline

Parrots and the Polly’s

Acting like Dollys’

Try break the system

But eco encryption

Keeps the primitives in place

Bad taste

Political correctness

Stiff upper lips

Distinct indirectness

Property management

Leadership skills

Let’s talk all day

About our empty thrills

Champs over lobster

Comradery finessed

Let’s brag about property

Debate and detest

Let’s add up our tallies

Still don’t have much

But tell the world it’s your oyster

Over your Michelin brunch.

Systematic Symptoms

I’m at risk

Of being too precious

Of what’s most precious

To me

Forget me!

Stop the me

And just see

That the only place you can only be

Is creating an affinity

With the infinity

Of your own creativity