John McKeown

Backbone of the Nation

Like some fat
little octopus
bleeding ink
the small businessman
squats at the bar
talking big.
But worse than him
is the small
willing audience
suckered
to his fat little tentacles,
in awe
of his pullulating sac
of noxious acumen.

I want to wade in,
stab and cut,
strike a blow
for everything formless,
undeliverable, equivocal;
but sit back, drink,
endure his trumpeting.
Not out of weakness, or strength,
but resignation;
the small businessman
is of another species.

John McKeown © 2009

Dodging the Virgin

When am I going to learn
Not to tell her anything?
The Queen of Heaven
Must be kept in the dark.

She’ll gather intelligence there
Like snowfall deepening in the night
And crush me with her purity
When she’s good and ready.

But why collaborate? Keeping her informed
She reads as prayer
And freedom is a dirty
Lying business.

Keeping Up

‘During The Troubles
life for ordinary people went on’,
the pundit reminds us.
Meaning: the eye of monotony
in the storm never closes.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
wont prevent Mrs Jones driving the kids to school.
Or Mr Jones putting the finishing touches

to his business-plan
for the New Heaven and the New Earth
to put before God Almighty in his Judgement Seat.

John McKeown © 2009