Song Of The Worms.

       A lot has been said and written about the result of the recent Crooks and Liars competition, the so called general election. All I can say is that I find it strange that the abused south of the border have picked the most brutal of abusers to be their new lord and master. However, I suppose it is all just a matter of degree, since they all dance to the same tune, played by the financial Mafia.

       I'll let Canadian poet Margaret Atwood voice my thoughts.

Song Of The Worms.

We have been underground too long,

we have done our work,

we are many and one,

we remember when we were human

We have lived among roots and stones,

we have sung but no one has listened,

we come into the open air

at night only to love

which disgusts the soles of boots,

their leather strict religion.

We know what a boot looks like

when seen from underneath,

we know the philosophy of boots,

their metaphysic of kicks and ladders.

We are afraid of boots

but contemptuous of the foot that needs them.

Soon we will invade like weeds,

everywhere but slowly;

the captive plants will rebel

with us, fences will topple,

brick walls ripple and fall,

there will be no more boots.

Meanwhile we eat dirt

and sleep; we are waiting

under your feet.

When we say Attack

you will hear nothing

at first.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk