Monday, 30 July 2012

The Evil Games

Each man and woman
and in-betweeny
wants to be seen here.
It’s what they’re all about –
moving ‘swifter, higher, stronger’
than the next man or woman
or hermaphrodite chancer
or drug-raddled body enhancer.

It’s the arena of small ambition
that reduces the human condition
to physical exhibition.
The phrase ‘disgusting displays’
is tailor-made for these Olympian days.

Tarnished gold,
the tarts’ grubby target,
above all else!
Swifter, higher, stronger, sadder,
ever more desperate.

Come on! COME on!
Peel of the Lycra suits.
The drugs don’t work.
They just make it worse.

They’re corrupted,
like the Olympics itself,
by being about
winning instead of the
important stuff of life,
which is mainly about losing.

Look now to London!
On the podium they stand,
grinning go-getters,
facile pace-setters.
Some people cheer,
some wave the bunting
of freedom-crushing states
as athletes are rewarded
with the motherland’s
rancid anthem.

Nothing can redeem
a movement  that professes
to be noble, while doing
what the ignoble always do,
in crushing the
humanity, humility,
poetry and eloquence
right out of people.

© Steve Regan

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Steve Regan co-runs the Bards of New Brighton (Wirral) and Liver Bards (Liverpool) poetry clubs. He is a former newspaper reporter.