08 April 2016


When a day’s already been frazzled by technocrats 
dispassionately plying their way, we’ve no need for 
dramas ending on our knees; and just as these are 
not immaculate thoughts, one still wonders at what 
is yet to come; we’re resolved to the contretemps - 
the plight of being lesser beings, and so when light 
fades and a satellite beam dies intestate who’ll see 
that actually we’re the only aggrieved innocents 

Holy guacamole won’t solve this impasse, not in its 
misconstrued dimension of being services provided 
geographically-underprivileged-needy-souls - rather 
obvious - but it won’t last any longer than a burp or 
a fart - and wiping agendas is the bureaucratic way 
of resolving whether funds are properly applied 

When our broadband satellite system falters & fails 
we are bereft internet connect because of weather, 
or the fact that it’s Thursday 4 pm - or whatever, or 
a niggle in the woodpile plays fancy games; so cry 
if you must - but no-one’ll hear you this side of the 
black stump - unless the system reboots again … 
© 3 December 2015, I. D. Carswell