fishing

I often ponder,
fishing, for that
ever, evasive, iridescent
salmon, called, Knowledge,
and, though, my line, hook and rod,
are true,
the truth, I yearn for, is, always..
over yonder,
because..
the victors on this planet,
always, hold the pen,
that scripts the present,
and, their school of thought,
is not, an Ichthyological college,
but, rather, a pseudohistory, a fallacy, regurgitated, from evil minds,
by ignorant mouths, to innocent pods.

I smell something fishy, don’t you?

You learn thoroughly,
to hold your tongue,
to earn only currency,
do right, not wrong,
do not question,
ignorance enlarged,
leave circumspection,
to those in charge,
believe the lies,
believe the truths,
believe those, that deny,
your own abuse,
you have a choice,
you have your freedom,
you have a voice,
you can go and see them..

The knowledge, you now, so desperately, seek, has, finally, been unredacted..

And, when, “too little”, arrives, that, little bit, “too late”..
You come to realise..

You had a choice.
You had your freedom.
You had a voice.
Look.. there they are..
in the mausoleum.

The chief benefactor of a hospital

raced to save the sick.

They found a new cure using horse DNA

and he said he would pay

but gambled his livelihood and lost it all

to the House made from Carrot and Stick.

A woman who was jilted at the altar

sought to get her retribution.

She ran him down, ran him over

at the docks down in Dover –

now without a fiancé to catapulter,

she’ll run rings round her caged institution.

A fat-cat turned politician

never kept promises only his riches.

He prayed for the big catch,

the day before the big match

and fell from Grace; his boat, while fishing.

Now, he’s a fat-cat nibbled at by the fishes.

poorman'sdreams

The knowledge of salmon fishing, or, the salmon of knowledge fishing?

Sky Hironies