The Long Days Journey into Bed

And so it begins the familiar Old tale,

For it never Stops nor ever fails.

The News being bleak from the Radio spits,

Like the Blackest Tar it flows and drips.

For the latest War is doing the Rounds,

Now Love and Peace is gagged and bound.

And our leaders speak in Boastful tones,

Where once was Bows we now have Drones.

And Crime has hit an all time High,

For it's better to Steal than to Graft and Buy.

It's 'Up yours Mate', least that's the plan,

All Self-Worth pride flushed down the Pan.

And what is this along our Streets,

A surging Mass of Angry feet.

Some heated Protest now regularly found- 

Is a 'Vexing of Dullards' a Collective Noun?

And Fatuous M.P.s all stake a claim,

To giving pride in the Country again.

All promises made are often grand,

And Written large on shifting Sand.

And so it goes this daily Waltz,

The Raging Bull to speed the Pulse.

A constant battering to the senses made,

From the Workings of Man in the existence trade.

And with 'Goodbye' the Announcer leaves,

That Soothsayer of Doom for the B.B.C.

It's another journey down the road of life,

The Helter Skelter of Humanities Strife.

So with his Song by Breakfast Fed,

I count the Hours until it's time for Bed.

To float away by Morpheus held-

In a Happier plane I'd Happily dwell.