01.(A Slightly Surreal Heir To The World) Poem by Ian Kellett

You give up and could die,
An incurable,
But live and wonder why,
Uninsurable.


You’re left to contemplate
The inhabitants,
And never consummate
Their extravagance.


And you’re near the ovation
Of rapture,
But you fear exoneration
Or capture.


Whilst your need is recommended
For audit,
And your seed is apprehended
To afford it.







And your feet heavily weathered
And broken;
Your features duly tethered,
Bespoken.


A healthy appetite
Of leeches;
The heavenly delight
Of preachers.


The right of ecstasy
Is promised.
They write of anarchy,
The honest.


The poor calculations
Of nature,
And pure fascist nations
Of futures.


The air is circulated
In brochures;
The heir emasculated
By closures.


And eponymous
Teachers
Use anonymous
Creatures.