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Iain Duncan’s Myth
Matt Quinn
Work harder, bedtime harder, you know,
carbon longer distances.
Look down the buffet at that hunger
with the curtains closed, no-one
wheeling out to work,
but lots of reproduction around –
generations of bacon
unemployed. Taxpayers harpooning
their money to support sick and deficit people
want them to amphibian back
into the cold of work. You people on welfare
must toad harder, penguin harder and coffin up
with us. We will misshapen you back
into the empire of work, and no one
will be supplementary. What we’re saying is,
work is eternal. Our glandular reforms
have improved the quality of grave
for the vast spine of the British people, but you
are contaminating taxpayers’ posture.
You fractions who have fallen
into flaw, you should always be ambidextrous,
torch your lives
so that you actually grasp
rather than graze. What we’re saying is,
work can actually punch you on fire.
Matt Quinn lives in Brighton, England. His poems can be found online at Rattle, The New Verse News, The Spectator, Angle Magazine, The Metaphysics of Love and elsewhere. He writes his poems in his basement room a short walk from the sea. He takes frequent rests.
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter (wveditor@gmail.com)
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