Twenty Four Seven? No Thank You! Poem by Catherine Casey

In the buying of a T-shirt
And visiting a place.
A kind of modernism
That’s flying in ones face.


Twenty four (the hours) ,
Seven (days the week) .
A way of saying ‘always’.
The latest way to speak.


‘Innit man. That’s wicked’.
Reversing what is meant.
Let’s just hope the pendulum
Has swung its full extent.


If any words deserve to cease
I would vote for those.
Commend them to a fiery end
And rescue proper prose.