From the land of the wall wishing brave, 

where braves are no longer welcome,

or this, our island of explorers 

who now wish these sea shores were 

fringed with endless rows of closed doors,

have migrated many mantras of woe

fired forth from the business of diplomatic show.

And so, below the same stars 

beneath which some mothers starve 

- but not ours -

some wil...

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There is me...lying.
Not lying like you say.
Lying on the floor, lying like I say.
Begging, weeping, asking.
You carnival figure, you.
You war hero, you.
You champion, you.
One leg propped upon my stomach.
Where are your gold stamps, your badges, your medals?
The trophy you stand on is all battered.
You have laid me out on the floor, the doormat
Withholding the welcome sign.
You roll m...

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