Realization

I saw a bird sitting on a chimney stack
Warming a feathered bottom on blue smoke
An event trite in a trite day
Because drunkards went on unconcerned on their drunken way.

Horrible how twenty four hours float by
Like toi-toi on a sobbing creek
Disaster accepted by bourgeois wives
Slowly cancelling their petty lives.

The calendar is the devil's medium
Browbeaten by an ageing sun
Packed by night into rubbish tins
Thrown in the ditch with ancient tins.

Although I witness this unfair strife
The prick is wasted on the giant's foot
My protest jolts for but a day
Because drunkards go on unconcerned on their drunken way.

N. W. Bilbrough