Poetic Tribute To Sainsbury Centre For Mental Health And Other Spidery Networks

They called it life

The grey society machine
That made of people
Tools

Defined them away
To ghosts of work
And nothingness
And treated them
As jeery football gangs and
Like Freud's unconscious fools

Poor bones they fitted other's richer dreams
Hacked the dark
Made fires
From Earth's seams

Trod with coloured flags
And Union themes
And politics gutted them
To newly bleed in China's
Economic themes

Now DIY the soul
If you can
You boned clan

For now you see
The bone tank
In all its green and gory
And the UK welfare state
With its empty plate
And even hate
That lost its worker's glory

You're dinosaurs
Depressed
While the middle class are
Internal colonists
Are well enough, swill cash
Are beautifully dentist-ed
And well dressed

And the inner deserts are ignored
Where the bone tank is moored
Or played with
By graffiti treatment scrawls
Yes , look
There where the last cog
Of the bone tank
Crawls

Come and get your surface treatment
And your metal pill
But the bone tank
Is duned and doomed
Because the human system
And everything they make
Across the generations

Is classed and classed

And is always system-ill ..


Zeronimo was never here
Or if he was

His name was always "workarse"

A synonym
For "patient"

For finally "disappear"


.