Heroes wear beige.

Heroes wear beige.

Do we really understand

The human cost

Fat flies circle dead meat

The rotting carcass is a magnet

For the scavenger

The pond is drained of life

When the big fish die

Leaving their stench to frighten away

The wild dogs

Which never works

As the food chain is always broken

From the bottom-up.

Pit Bull's face-off

Whiskers bristling, unshaven heads

Butting like rutting stags

Wasting their energy on dance moves

When no one is impressed by a showman.

The deadliest attacks

Are the ones unseen

The drab brown thing,

The bookworm in the corner

Gnawing at the pages of a paperback

Turning the learning

Into warcraft

Superpowers are not needed

Keyboards are springloaded

Push button operators

Are not trained

They are born into a role.

Kindergarten gamesmanship

Is an early learning experience

Stand-offs are practised

In team sports

The giants of the game

Wear padded shoulders

To impress the girls

And take their superiority

Into the boardroom

Which can easily be a war room

When testosterone is on the rise

There is only one winner.

But victory is never as sweet

As the after-dinner mints

At a table in the corner,

When intimacies are shared

And truths are laid out with little

Elaboration,

The only time vulnerability

Is seen as an advantage.

Superstars circle, warily

Strutting birds

Spreading their plumage

To emphasise their size,

Glorify their lineage.

The little brown mouse

In the beige suit is often overlooked

Until the beans need counting

And then he is a genius

At estimating human costs

Understanding the balance of power,

Putting a lid on extremes,

Taking the Elephant out of the room.