Concrete notions

 City whores, in the dirt

In the deep

Of concrete

And bungling jungles

Where fungal spores are rife

and reach rifles

And breach bedposts 

And linen trousers of

Generals

Whose black hearts are scorched by war

And peace is just a begging post 

On the road to War

The city of blood

They are dead flowers

Rotten lilies

And flag Irises

Drooping 

Pungent smelling

Of decaying pig

And human hearts blackened

By smoke, and smog

And money

That breeds the flies of greed

From the maggots of envy, and pride

And the worms of lust are twisting

Through

The rotten flesh

Of the over sweetly smelling roses

The bawdy bright colours

The bold washed fast, bleached hues

The bumble bee dyed

Boxers and blonde wigs

Of stags and figs

And pigs

Who dance in the moonlight

But never smell

a field