And Lord Oh, So Benevolent Poem by Mark Heathcote

Each-day whispers in its benevolence
Coughs in the daylight; spills out the night:
Much like a Morello, cherry stone - stoned.
'We hold it up by hook or by crook…

'Tallow and dripping; bleeding, unforgiving'.
'We're the benefactors' of hope and charity'
'Our generous palms' fumble-for-sucker —
With dirt ladled nails…

'We cherish childhood's best-lost endeavours —
Those days… Dusted off with broken' cotton pillows,
On our eiderdown of settling, white feathers.

…Closely followed I hear a clog, clog clogging.
And I see four Pallbearers in the foyer —
And lord oh, so benevolent now to my satisfaction.
Now, there is only one singed black feather.