Thought I would share an old one today…. though it seems that he crept his way into the top rank anyhow *shudders*
Dear Mr Shiny Face,
For too long now you have eluded my pen
My thoughts left to tick,
instead of tumbling to the page.
The grin you wear hangs uncomfortably
Upon a painted mask fashioned of thickly ground concealer.
My first thoughts were a of a letter,
I would of course write to inform you of the ways of the common man
To ensure you were well versed in the disgruntled opinion amongst us lower ranks.
I had wanted to inform you of the growing sense of apprehension, the slow incline of annoyance
The rapid decrease of patience from quiet unassuming men.
I imagined your desire to reach out and bridge the gaping chasm between us
You would reply with a short note, maybe a text to show how you were ‘down with it’
Yes the letter would be a warning, no, a friendly nudge.
An acknowledgement from one enlightened being to another.
My baked beans tainted the joke about the Peasants revolt and your head on a spike.
And now my apologies, I never got around to sending the letter.
Somehow work got in the way, essays for Open University, caring for parents, time spent
worrying over budget forms, slowly working away to repay debts owed from being too young or
too stupid to say no to bank charges dressed up as insurance.
The letter it was forgotten, until the first splash of news.
Riots hit the headlines,
Panic rose, smoke filling the sky like a heavy cloud of dissatisfaction.
Images everywhere of greedy self indulgent children and adults jumping on the band wagon
Pain felt by every decent person to see their city disgraced, trampled and left broken.
Sirens blared as fires were set ablaze, vultures picking at the remnants of peoples empires.
I thought of you and the letter whilst i sat holed up in my high rise flat.
The police car sat outside like a cat waiting for a mouse
Reports on the internet flickered and screamed out warnings of horror.
Brave men shot at for defending their livelihoods; this is the state of the morality.
No longer do I feel the urge to invite you around to talk things through,
over a lukewarm pasty.
I have lost my appetite for plastic politics.