Glasgow Queen Street Low Level

Don't ask, don't tell. I don't think anyone reads these anymore...

Every day,
a habitual charge,
like flies to rotting meat,
they commute.

The CCTV cameras
set in their eye sockets
seem to have lost
that vital iris; they have
they beauty of their soul
curtains for a stewed
coffee bean.

Like an army set to
a polka march, they
arrive; depart; wait
in long queues, hair askew
and ask how much
a return from here to there
costs.

The metallic voice of the
General grates on my nerves.
The Commander-in-chief.

These trains
pull them off to
corporate concentration camps.

Oh, such a pity!
They have left myself,
a
communist in the capitalist ranks.

What's this? A poetry explosion? You've been putting your time to good use.

Damn good use, actually. I love.

I love it! Especially the:
"Oh, such a pity!
They have left myself,
a
communist in the capitalist ranks."

That made me crack up laughing. Sorry if it wasn't supposed to, but yeah, I've just been learning about capitalism, and then someone called me a communist today, and yeah. That was funny.

Love it.

wow...kewl