05 Jun 2016 – Virtual Benjo Ditch

Can it be sewers’ and stars’ circularity,
spinning in space down eternity’s hiking trails
join at the hip in a cosmic polarity,
bring up what’s hidden so clear-sighted thought prevails?

Chamber pots emptied in medieval streets below –
noblemen knew not to look up with open mouths.
Floods were a blessing – a push to the clotted flow,
all men’s opinions revealed with no need to dowse!

Blest be the name of the man who went underground,
choosing aesthetics instead of black pestilence –
saving us all from the gossip that goes around:
politics, bigotry – paved in stone elegance.

Back to a dark age! Our virtual benjo ditch
slops over borders – and not a damn thing’s suppressed!
Well-wired fingers which scratch at a planet’s itch,
full foul disclosure and nothing is left to guess!

Spin, planets, spin! Smirking high in your roller-rink.
Laugh as we sink in the guano once hid away.
Echoing thunder? Mere soul-shaking blasts of stink!
Stripteasing stars hold us fast and now have their say.