behind the illustrious man a shadow squats

behind the tenured man of academe

a shadow shits

what a shadow does not clean up

how can followers know?

how can flatterers see

his feet

not just of clay but cloven?

the human anus, dragon-scaled


behind the public intellect, a human anus

behind the chambered mind, a serpent’s tail

behind the red facade, a bourgeois grabs

de luxe materials with padded hands

a camouflage

of silks and tweeds and cashmeres

the human anus, dragon-scaled


and everyday at MONEYCORP

he keys in his pin number

fattening the golden calf

of his wallet with bribery fodder


he eats 1000 ducks

his cheeks hamster-stuffed with dim sum parcels

busily debriefing

his acolytes of gossip, information

a laptop cunningly records

anything to use against anyone

who does not see things

from his point of view

(i.e. through a spyglass darkly)

anything personal or impersonal

to his ends can be used

the human anus, dragon-scaled


he tweets the lemon twist

of facts pressed through the juicer

of a big personality

with an even bigger disorder

observable in a microscope

the bacterium of his soul

so very small so very deadly

desperately devoid of hope:

a shill

programmed to play games


and sick of his false victimhood

squealed from a costume of truth

I turn back to my own humanity

for breath

from the anus, dragon-scaled



Poetry: Niall McDevitt

Art: Ralph Steadman (from STRIKE! Magazine Issue 1)

About Niall McDevitt

Niall McDevitt > poet > author of b/w (Waterloo Press, 2010) and Porterloo (International Times, 2012) > urban explorer > radical pedestrian who leads Shakespeare/Blake/Rimbaud /Yeats walks, among others.
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