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A day in the lie

  • 21 October 2019


Selected poems



The graduate

She joined the workforce with a cheerful heart,

but bit by bit they ripped her dreams apart.

They repossessed her luminescent pen

and made her bow to misanthropic men.


The office

The office space is filled with dread and fear

when sycophantic psychopaths appear.


The bureaucrat

He served the republic with utter distinction;

his days in the office were memorable ones:

he covered the monsters with insect repellent

and shot the mosquitoes with elephant guns.


The boardroom

The boardroom is the alleyway

where angry sanguines come to play.


Rupert's morning

He munches on Moroccan toast for brunch,

then executes executives for lunch.


A day in the lie

This is yer suit and yer tie.

This is yer glimpse of the sky.

This is yer walk in the rain.

This is yer dash for the train.

This is yer train to the city.

This is yer town without pity.

This is yer piece of the pie.

This is yer day in the lie.


The player

If you state your ambition,

you'll be treated with suspicion,

so pretend to be humble

and you will never stumble,

as you climb the corporate tower

and procure your worldly power,

crowned with immortality,

excused from immorality,

and, of course, above suspicion ...

if you learn to hide ambition.


The window cleaner

I used to scale cathedral heights

of gothic architectural sites

and scrub your dirty windows clean;

but gargling gargoyles of the night

inflicting pterodactyl bites

have torn my soul to smithereens.



Damian Balassone's poems have appeared in over 100 publications, most notably in the New York Times. He is the author of three volumes of poetry, including the forthcoming Strange Game in a Strange Land (Wilkinson Publishing).