So it’s the little things
Which make you shake to itch?
You become involved to not evolve,
To turn you ape, cow and witch.

The beast inside be dead,
But then becomes so alive,
As something stupid someone does,
Causes the monster to revive.

Be it the weather being dire,
Societies going off the beaten track,
PPI, cold calling and self-service checkouts,
All send tremors down my back.

Something irksome knocks at the brain,
Something awful, political and pitiful,
Sends you acutely insane, you’re mute,
And the moments in life become forgettable.

You watch others react whilst,
You moan, you pace and you froth,
As you see them for whom they really are,
Just animals nosing in the troth.

 

From “Through Bovine irises” – The Poetically political, Anthropological and Sociological viewpoint of an (aging) moody cow.

Laura Sansom