IT IS AS IF Look Down, We are still alive, just. There was no planning for us. There were no rehearsals. We just sort of came. We know that for us, There will always be less. We just have to grin it, We sort of just bare it,N Just like the Stoics that we are. After all and to be honest, We always just carry on; Because there is no justice for us. Whilst we are doing so, The cascade of promises, And all those out of reach opportunities Fall scapegoating beyond our reach. We have been missed again. A strange circumstance For us for sure, As we are such A Big Target to hit. Because of this we value less The words delivered By those who are inclined to be teachers. To be judged as not capable, As not viable in the long term, Is simple put, well not nice. Yet it describes the outlook of those who have to live it. This is the truth of ignorance trapped in poverty. So we shuffle along a bit more And when needed we centre our vote, On another ephemeral set of policies, In what they describe as a manifesto. It is their simplified list to be sold, And we The Voters are to be sold at. (Note, an Algorithm can not even Categorise us a people). But we are otherwise engaged. We have to be In order to survive. We are on the other side Way, way over yonder. In fact we are so way off message, We are not even clueless, We are actually trackless. (There isn't even a track For us to be from the wrong side of) Left alone again we will become re-stupefied And eventually congeal and die. That is usually the way in our world. Some call it Cancer, others call it neglect. The cycle of inheritance for us Always stops at death. We bring nothing with us, We take with us even less. We are however a few less to. . . To be soaked up, To be governed. It is as if We. . . We were never here. © 2018 Christopher Thompson. All rights reserved.