Wild mountain

There’s nothing sacred here
no one to pray to and
nothing to fear
nothing sacred here.

So we swam to the banks and
thanked them
for men being men
then we killed them

nothing to see here
not one thing let be here
nothing to fear
nothing sacred at all.

The church bells rung
and the swingometer
swung
and we went down
to the parliament
and hung them in
chains in the
chambers,

but there’s nothing to see here
nothing sacred
‘cepting sea air
and
the free air
in which to breathe in.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.