Gregory Dark E Books and Audio Books

Ticked Off

If you want to make me sick
Just let me see the Nike tick;
As a foolproof emetic
That vicious tick, it does the trick.

Nike’s tick, it ticks me off
What are these athletes thinking of?
How can they be purporting
To champion causes that are sporting
Whilst they are in fact supporting
Acts which are a damned distortion,
A contortion, almost an abortion
Of all that’s fair, of level playing grounds?
Instead they want, not sport, but pounds;
And model roles not to exhort
But merely to extort.

Emblazoned with that blood-soaked tick
Laps of honour become lapses of honour;
Reeking of sweat, tears and dishonour;

There is sweat and tears, yes, and blood, but not of bravery:
It’s of those employed in something near slavery.

With their sweat-bands goldly ticked
Tennis seeds do not serve aces, they serve only disgraces –
They’re servants of those who disgrace their membership of the human race;
Those thus ticked do not run races, nor run between bases,
They run down races; don’t play base-ball, they’re just base;
And debase
The whole ethos that is sport, the whole thrill that is the chase.

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