And You're Going To Call It Contentment Poem by Mark Heathcote

I am going to make you visit me
And after prison, you're still going to pillage and rob,
After the storm, you're going to stay paroled at home
And you're going to call it happiness
And forget to call it duress?

I am going to remove that scaffold
And watch you fall and rage
But by the morning, you're going
to wipe all your tears away.
Believe you know better; you're a sage.

I am going to welcome you to the doghouse
And throw you a bone with open arms
I am going to tether you to the workhouse gate
And whip you from behind
And put you under that destitution cap in hand fear.
And pay your wages
When I decided they come around again to you.

I am going to make you visit me
And after that, you're still going to pillage and rob,
After the storm, you're going to stay paroled at home
And you're going to call it contentment
You're going to call it a heavenly commandment.

It's your destiny to grovel-
And eat rancid rotten maggoty fruit and meat
Remember to bow and nod
Remember to grovel and give thanks in the street
We've taken charity on you.
Look, we're not conflicted that you're living in a gutter
And you feel like lying down.
It's a conveyor line, and we've seen many of your kind
I am going to welcome you to live under my will
Because I am fair, I am going to give you
A concessionary bus fare and retirement age
When your life has nearly come to an end and expired.