If money sits on the right,

with figures surging with delight.

would the left be wrong,

to sound a gong,

warn of a cascading right thats wrong.


If the cryer yells,

ringing his bells,

sending his fears abroad.

The damage within,

that holds that firm grin.

makes that nothing something to win.


Whats rwong with being wrong – i hear you say,

the letters are all up’n muddled.

Swapping the characters transfixes the naratives,

hoping to make you blue.

Like when the brother – becomes a dad,

or the father goes   all child – in their form of mad kiniving.


when the daughter stops – loving their fam,

or the pet starts barking,

at every man.

Remember that orders are clear as mud,

and explaining is futile – the exams a dud.


Look for the opposition,

who’s adjacent and who’s gone quitting,

whos committed and the who’s that are smitten.

Whos higher and those in position,

Approval processes devised from leven,

because were told we share a heaven.

But when the going gets tough, it’ll be time to nuke all your stuff..




Maur Bien.





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