RAAC

RAAC

There was ever an excuse,

Poor representation

Is more normal than not.

Pour the concrete

Plug the hole

Let the devil worry about the detail

As by the good grace

Of a generous soul

We lie

Up to our necks in the mistakes

Of others.

Whether they be the hopeful young

Dying in their thousands

Dug into trenches

Never meant for living

Or the hoi-poloi in the cheap seats

Throwing tomatoes

And missing.

The gerrymanders

Rotting in the posh seats

Sleeping on satin cushions

As the foundations sink back

Into the ground.

The morass of civilised society

A muddied disguise

To cloud the truth

Of a gradual erosion

Into equal opportunism.

Wealth is a creation

Of delusion

The real power

Lies in not being seen

To wield it,

Whilst reaping

Its benefit.

In the run-around

Of an old schoolyard

Brick walls and glass ceilings crumble

Down to the ground.

And every hope

We ever had of reaching the stars

Is smothered

In the toxicity

Of its fallout.