Deflation

by Derek Morrison

Fine time for a puncture
Fine time for a puncture
Attribution: Wesley Trevor Johnston [CC BY-SA-2.0]
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Gods, they smiled
As plans you told
Group cycle ride
Despite the cold.

Out in countryside
Rain like spear
Bad day for puncture
Mused he at rear.

The assassin thorn
Lay in silent wait
Its pointed dagger
Was someone’s fate.

Heavens pouring down
Prayers for release
Coffee stop pending
So pace increase.

The waiting assassin
Struck the blow
He at the rear
Didn’t even know.

Speed fell away
Group unaware
Pedaled onwards
Dry to share.

A slowing pace
Insufficient heat
Magnified loss
Once on feet.

Shelter priority
Fix can wait
Primary risk
Hypothermia state.

Leaden hands
Fingers blue.
Inn gave respite
Hot drinks too.

Repair was painful
Fix was slow
Fingers seized
Felt like toe.

Coffee stop
One was gone
Post rain and coffee
Search party spawn.

But happy ending
After transient fear
From my being
He at the rear.

Gods, they smile
As plans you tell
So plan for breakdown
In weather hell.

[To listen to this verse select below]

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e-Passport Control

by Derek Morrison

Journey over, flight now landed
But suffering time now expanded
2 long queues at border control
Dampens the travel-weary soul
1 snaking line offers human touch
A seductive other, technology’s clutch
Gambling then on which is faster
Digital must surely be the master
Opting then for e-passport control
Down Alice’s Wonderland rabbit hole
The Mad Tea Party made more sense
Even the saintly were growing tense
As more passengers joined the crowd
Government posters declare they’re proud
But constipation struck the tortuous queue
Technology’s false profit[phet] making tempers stew
And the queue got longer.

The border officer with a rictus smile
Forced calm in voice; walks the aisle
“It’s really easy”; he demos the art
“Passport face downwards, show this part
Now step through the gate and face the glass
Facial recognition will let you pass”
But computer doesn’t know you, or is way too slow
Crowd grows more restless, no sense of flow
One poor innocent chap could not get out
Confusion on face, what’s this about?
“What’s the point of all this?” One woman protested
Filled with rage at tax millions invested
A functionary jotted some comments down
But auto-bureaucracy still wore the crown
And the queue got longer.

The officer gave up and guides some up the line
For real people to process which suited us fine
Meanwhile, the other queue had shrunk to nil
But at e-passport control? They are there still.

[To listen to this verse select below]

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