Incorruptible

Life can be a market street,
Neon and sin in equal measure,
Glitzy lights mask the horrors behind,
Roads teeming with snake oil salesmen,
Moral vampires hiding in alleyways,
Vulturine hounds slavering for hours of your life,
You need to keep your chequebook shut and turn away,
Despite their honeyed words,
They do not mean well,

They are artists of heartbreak,
Painting red skies and earthquakes,
Architects of every inferno under the sun,
You need to be strong,
Permit no chink in your plate mail,
No hint of manipulation,
These ghouls would take you into their rotten fold,
Don’t let them stain your blood,
Be incorruptible.

The Strongman

To the freakshow I went,
Yes I did,
To see the Strongman,
To gawk upon him was to see a titan,
A toned personification of divine motif,
A visual ambrosia,

His body had been created by sorcery surely,
Built with tales as tall as any colossus,
His arms the girth of proud redwoods,
His chiselled chin had even cleft the canyons,
He whose stance holds asunder continents,
He whose shoulders could lift up the sky,

Metaphor only scrapes the surface,
The circus lights hid much of his humanity,
He was superhuman,
In another time,
A more simple time,
He could have been named a god,

Unnatural,
A freak.