May Day

May 22, 2012

Mad May in my English garden,
10 green roses are making for the sky
weaving up through established honeysuckle
Damocles-ing the wrong way round.

Mad May in my darling garden
dragonflies are in the sink,

crazy paving’s running riot,

the daffodils are on the blink.

May Day, May Day –
the washing’s climbing up the walls,
there’s something creeping
in the midnight undergrowth,
the stars are flashing morse code.

Wisteria’s hysterical.

Geraniums are late

The snails are thriving
on a tenacious border.

Next doors cat is hunting chicks.

Mad May in municipal offices.

Mad May in the red brick pool.

Mad May in the dentist and the doctors.

Jubilees and bunting rule.

May day’s come and gone unnoticed,

the House of Lords have brushed their wigs,
the cabinet have sent a cut

to the Queen, for her to read.

Hollihocks in the high street hustle.
Ivy stalks the job centre queues.

Mad May in the admin department
building asylums and slicing schools.

Mayday, Mayday, but the marching’s over,

Syrian civilians are exploding from cars
the King of Bahrain is eating cake,

the Tyrant of Swaziland’s playing cards.

Mayday, Mayday, but the marching’s over,
the government’s been weeding poverty
the usual suspects, single mothers,
the sick, the lonely, elderly.

Mad May, Rule Britannia.

Parliament’s hung
The garden grows.

Mayday, Mayday,
my tiny house

glows in it’s driveway,
Mad May, Mayday howls.

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