Tired Dandelions


'You can have it all, '

the broken-house
you can’t afford
with the iron bars
and the hobo-picket fence,
your two dullard-kids
eating Tide PODS ®
and playing lawn darts
with the needles
they found in the alley
beneath a billboard sign
of hallowed promises

'A Brighter Future,'

beneath a glaring
melancholy sun
as dun dust drifts
upon the devils
of aimless anxiety
swept from ant-infested yards
and asphalt trailer park lots
adorned with colourful
stand-up placards
of red or blue

'A Balanced Budget,'

says the cardboard lips
of bleached men
with LEGO ® hair
and pasty-stoic faces
ravenous and insatiable
their political-porcelain smirks
praising the equity
of abandoned hope
and failed graces

'Jobs, Jobs, Jobs,'

just pick your sorry-self up,
don’t quit now,
you’re almost there
borrow from the debts
of the greatest generation,
run your fat-lazy-ass
to the Champagne finish line
of self-made success

​They'll Never Tell You,

that the starting line lies
forty years in the past:
the pistol’s smoke expired,
the champions long-buried,
and the dishevelled track
cracked open
by tired dandelions

© Christopher Raine