Parasite

Role models
But only for the rich
In this stitch-up
For Palace staff

Not even minimum wage
We'd all feel
Enraged while
The Queen's having a laugh

Sitting high
On her pots of Gold
Continuing to keep
Her hold on
Our common wealth

Be best to turf them out
We'd be better off without
This parasite
By stealth

 https://republic.org.uk/what-we-do/news-and-updates/low-wages-palace-failure-leadership-queen

Solution

The fact that it dissolves
Quicker than a painkiller in water
Cannot be lost on anyone

It's constituent bodies leaching back
Into the countryside
Like landfill

Perceiving to bind itself
To public popularity in order
To engineer a reverse reaction

Apart they are in solution
Which when together
They never seem to find

Palms

He was astounded by the crowd
Their shouting
Their cheering
Even more as they endowed

His path in front with palms
And cloaks
And softness
As they threw they sung him psalms

They were wild and excited
Fierce
Compelling
And a fire inside ignited

A completeness
Where once had been a lack
And in future he often wondered
The fate of the man upon his back

City

The city crowds dance
Foxtrotting at the crossings
Taking turns to lead

Tango in the streets
Polka through the shopping mall

Retail park prancing

Capitalist skips
Spending with swagger and poise
Credit card rhythms

Whence came the music?
Who conducts this merry dance?
Corporate maestro's

Wreckage

Tragedy on a mountainside
Sharp as the clustered rocks
Thrown up in a great collision
Millennia ago
Days ago

The dust has time to settle
Erosion longer
Though death is an instant

The wreckage of families grief
Is exposed to the raw chill
Of alpine winds
Perhaps the snow's can numb the pain
Until the meltwater
Floods out the tears

Flock

Peering out with glum faces
Into the grey-wet gloom
The commuters huddle
Under their shelter
Much like a flock
Of variously feathered pigeons
In the stark branches
Of a winter tree.

The train pulls in
And activity is a flurry
Pointy elbows stab into ribs
Like sharp beaks
Umbrellas explode like wingbeats
Their daggered ends grazing cheeks
As heads duck
To avoid the flapping

The train halts
And the flock
Have aligned themselves
As if strung out
On a telegraph wire
Before another
Claw, beak and wing scramble
For the doors

Crumble

Guilty feelings press
Twisting in swirling circles
Do you do enough?

Senses overwhelmed
Detached and lost for actions
Failing your duties

Helplessly watching
Barely providing support
Worthless to the side

Esteem battered down
Violent winds of worry
Confidence storm lashed

Tirade of self doubt
Mocking sandy foundations
When will it crumble?