The Moon Sees All

I remember that Coaltown moon so well.

It hung low and creamy, with a yellow

hint of staleness.  Confined to his nights cell,

and forced to observe – with eyes of mallow –

a world stained with the actions of sad fools.

Youth marched in earnest; the old acted callow,

trying to govern with policies drooled

in a chamber of mad, rhetoric speech;

where foul wealth and evil began to pool.

The laws of thought, they seemed out with their reach

as they waste their days to garner cheap laughs.

When challenged over the harsh austere bleach,

mop-dipped and scrubbed hard by Tory quarterstaff,

vile monkeys typed day and night, bent chiefs

fuelled fires with daily rags and smashed polygraphs,

and upturned pure hatred onto the streets;

“blame who we’re bombing; they’re the cause of your grief.”

Tomas Bird - Cherry Coal 2017