Chasing Sunsets

 Chasing Sunsets

 

After lifetime's voting for rich idle slobs,

mandating disgust for free thinking yobs,

applauding vacuum antics of a slack-jawed

air-head Queen of Tarts, until upon burial,

their vicars blocked arterial roads instead,

you’d think they’d rest and be thankful

for getting exactly what they got given.

Instead, perusing any number of car lots,

to buy stinking tinpot VW Camper Vans

which Dobson is more than happy to sell,

in order they might chase their sunsets.

Him thinking, it’s all a bit picturesque,

isn’t it? That, ever since time began,

they flocked to cities, leaving behind land

now carved up, hung, drawn, quartered

into industrial portions on pie charts.

Trim hedges round four-squared boxes

baptized ‘Dunroamin’ and ‘Ittledo’,

then slop flat flip-flopped feet abroad

with one less dead horse to flog,

happily shit in someone else’s bog.

Wiped with indelible ignorant streaks,

a piss-blistered, red-eyed sky churns

above filthy planet that rages; she burns.

Queues leave hot shoe shuffle footsteps,

imprints of idle thoughts, deeds, breath,

because they’ve always wanted to travel,

haven’t they? No hard bristled brushing

will scrape a million stains from porcelain,

it’s our lifetime’s ambition, our goal,

to flock before sunset’s sharks in shoals

of babbling blobfish. Keeping ticked lists;

diary writing sprains shuffling wrists

then pose upon that same flaccid shore,

where a million million posed before.

Here’s Dobson whistling, handing out keys

to turn some idling motors over.

They’re setting off in a sunset search

to overlook foregone four-leaf clovers,

listening in mono to other writer’s tunes

and overcooking other writer’s books,

to watch somebody else’s rivers flow.

Shoot him dead with supercilious ammo

that triggers deepest sorrow. He can’t know

where Princess Diana once parked her arse

on a bench by Taj Mahal and laughed.

Uncomplaining, for it scans good verse,

will set to with weeping guitar, rehearse;

she later comes to love in passion’s nest,

kills all wanderlust between her breasts,

travels deep within his thoughts to rest.