What shall I say?
It is the soul’s rejection of constriction
the fist shaking refusal
to be butter pat slapped
into consumable portions
neatly packaged definitions of utility.
To accept that rank, yellow slab
as the penultimate achievement of human distinction
to aim to make booted pussies purr
Wee Willie Winkie smirk.
I’d rather be despised
marginalised
than commit the obscenity of obsequious conformity.