Sunday should be held in Sarawak

I see things like poetry and irony in equal measure,
each a treasure store and though I can’t explore it all
I nibble around the edges like a hungry minnow in a hurry to
grow up.

gets me
going on a rant
the greed of those who can’t
see the hardships,

the political dipshits
the drunken halfwits
all quite happy to go on their way
and say,
‘not my problem’

The homeless question.

seen and yet unseen
touched upon but not felt,

makes your heart melt
but not really
hearts don’t melt
they just break.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.