Three Monkeys Online

A Curious, Alternative Magazine

Child of Industry – a poem

By John Mongan

John Mongan was born in Dublin in 1978 . He has travelled extensively, America, Mexico, Asia, South Pacific and Europe, living in Denmark and Australia. He spent some time working on Oil Rigs in the Persian Gulf and most of his career has been in the IT sector. He has studied Sociology, Politics and Archaeology.Since he can remember he has written poems and short stories.

Child of Industry

Am I here now, reclining or back?

Coke can cup in the cul-de-sac

Cold fog, January smog, cough at the door

Mum watching the clock, curfew at four

 

Full of industry we eye the estate

Send word back to cool the plate

It’s early yet for mince and lies

Let’s scale the wall of capitalist divides

 

Coopers off cuts, deadly like spurs

Hurled and spiralled to metallic blurs

On barrels of fun on we drone

Grey dusk descending, no thoughts of home

 

A sour sickly smell of powder and paste

Whipped up, flavoured and potted for waste

Labelled, loaded, stacked on a rack

Tempting the suffering kleptomaniac

 

Matriarchal calls way down the air

The time has passed for truth or dare

Suburban melodies from a kin

Like rats to the piper she lures us in

 

Wide-eyed pity slapped in the head

No food for lies, straight to bed

Wake me up with life to darn

The singers spool has spun its yarn

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