Rotary Saw

One day I grimaced at my hands,
And I saw that they were not truly mine,
Bound to schemes not my own,
Tied to some parliamentary puppeteer,
Oligarchs bluffing authority,
So I took a rotary saw to them,

With each rotating bite,
Every vein separated,
Muscle torn from radius,
Each bone bloodily gnawed through,
I felt no fire from the excision,
I felt relief,

Self-mutilation rapture,
The roar of petrol chokes any vice,
No longer can these hands commit the evils of others,
I’m no longer a tool,
If I cannot touch,
I cannot harm.

Domination

Like gravity or time,
Domination is a force of nature,
A state of mind that crawls in insidiously at first,
It is a kind of madness,
Corrupting the souls of powerful men,
Leading them to utilise that will against lesser souls,

They become cold tyrants,
All meat hooks and whips,
Little Kaisers commanding grey legions,
Dominating the masses with the force of steel,
Turning neighbours into archenemies,
Fear of the ball gag and boots heel,

The desire to impose ones will,
It is a plague with no cure,
To which even the virtuous hold vulnerability,
It is a fact of life,
As long as two souls remain on Earth,
Somebody will wish to dominate another.