Isn't democracy a grand thing.

Out in the meadows
a quiet massacre

that is not picked up

by the faulty microphones
of the masses is underway.

Can you lend me a minesweeper, inquires
the dusty old General through his mouth,
to a small girl next to him, who was busily picking flowers

for a funeral.

For you see, my dear, continues the General, in a rather stiff

and brittle manner, I'm afraid that all of our mis-spellings and continual

abuse of standard english, have eventually come home to roost.