Micropoetry No.3

The enfeebled sun of autumn wanes
As clouds dart across an horizon
Deep in a treacherous increase.

If it isn't a Manic Monday
Deconstruct the playlist
Turn me on to Jimi.

The Independent on Sunday middleclass.
The Sunday Times middle of the road
The Sunday Sun middle of the butt crack.

What makes the news tick
In the same frame; leaning either way
They must sit, code, decide to cover the headlines parallel not parallax.

At ten am ingress increases
Inversely to progress
Less achieved as the stampede
Becomes grey.

Truth: silence is impossible
Silence! I command thee
Two shout
One sits noble betwixt.

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