Meat Market

9. MEAT MARKET Night of the burning bush and rain Cries of irritable babies bother Laughter circles like vultures Descends on heaving heads that hang Whispers weave through the wafts Of tightly knitted nightmares Blotted night air heavy with hope Haemorrhaging hearts unaware Of the bitter biting reality Of identical continued defeat Swords unsheathed from scabbard Eat into willing rented flesh Dogs excrete and recreate Cats prowl in delighted victory Buses hoot in the distance Approach imaginary final stops Loaded with cargo and cacophony Night is king every day Light is illusion and ignorance Hope is in abundance everywhere That corner café and karaoke That vegetable seller and cake mixer Everything is vortex and vile Spiralling in never ending repetition