It’s heady times we’re living in!
Full pelt, high tilt, heading for oblivion,
watching the numbers on labels go up and
pounds in pockets go down.
See the same all over town;
Three pints and a game of pool is now
One pint nursed over an evening.
Only there ‘cause it’s cheaper than the heating.
Choice between bus fare and eating.
Fancy portmanteaus to hide reality of meaning.
They call it Shrinkflation.
I call it profit-motivated, cronyist complicity in mass starvation.
Theirs is catchier.
Whatever.
Have you eaten jelly babies recently?
When I opened my packet last night,
The fright!
The horror! The drama! The scene!
Half the kids had been kidnapped!
I reached for my phone,
I had to call the police!
But then I remembered - they’d already know.
It’s been happening for decades at least.
We can talk about Freddos, too,
or car parts, or diesel, or booze
but my first glimpse of this dastardly practice
was mightily unsavoury -
you’ll have to forgive me for this.
How do I put this without getting banned?
Do you know what an eight of an ounce is in grams?
It’s 3 and a bit.
An eighth of an ounce once cost twenty quid!
And pound for pound we’re weaker than ever,
Tenuously taking steps while the tensions tighten in our tethers.
More debt, more struggle, less hope,
no matter how you rearrange it.
Recognising failures in the system doesn’t change it.
Standing idly by,
blithely buying into blindfolds
blinged beyond belief
Offering ornamental oblivious relief
from all the
actions and inactions and reactions
and rot.
What’s it all for anyway?
We are sinking in the mire of our own making.
Taking too long to make choices,
fry replaced the song in our voices
long ago. It’s starting to show.
The foundations of civil edifice begin to splinter.
Yet to arrive are the fuel privations in the midst of bitterest Winter.
Still Summer,
still sunshine and clammy.
No bees, no insect bites from midges this year.
Just pollen dusted lashes and cheeks streaked with allergic tears.
Instability of emotion,
plankton massacres in oceans,
death cult levels of devotion
to illogical half baked notions
and the over saturation of fear.
One in 6 adults here are on medicines for depression.
When will we admit there’s nothing wrong with us,
but this path is cobblers
and we’ve broken heels.
It’s time to fix it.
Here’s the deal.
Leave the drama to the actors.
Consider the possibility of favourable factors.
Candles give both warmth and light.
Emulate them. Stop this simulation
of projected self and merely
hold your own.
Solidify you source of ignition,
find truth lies in your intuition.
Be forthright,
Try, try, try, try again.
Offer help to strangers and friends.
We’re going to need it.
