Ceramic City

I want to take you to my city.

My ceramic city.

China cranes and ceramic chains keep constructions from collapsing in my ceramic city.

Little ceramic characters, careful not to crack crawl along cemented streets.

Do you like my ceramic city?

There’s a little China you and a little China me

China can’t move with efficiency,

It breaks almost instantly-

Don’t forget china’s only valued when the China looks pretty.

And you’ve heard what happens when people in ceramic houses throw stones.

But if ceramic cracks what do you do?

Superglue!

So our small shattered selves solve these grey stripes with the superglue until we’re almost good as new.

Our beliefs in the ceramic city are set in stone,

Ceramic people argue with ceramic friends on their tiny China phones.

It’s for the best, China sells well alone.

Except for tea sets.

Pretty painted pieces put together to be picked.

A pound of perfect people wait in order to be shipped.

Sold!

To the fat white man in the back from parliament.

The paper people, as we like to call them. The paper people in power run a pyramid scheme.

They can’t be crushed like us ceramic citizens,

they’ve already been flattened by their emerald stacks of China cash.

The paper people pick the pie and leave their subjects crumbs.

The China people push their pencils with their China thumbs.

The paper people pack their cars and drive home eating plumbs.

On the A4.

In my ceramic house theres a ton of superglue.

When my ceramic cracks,

I know exactly what to do-

I stiffly run as China does

to my China room .

Ceramic shards litter my ceramic floor,

The ceramic handle fell from my ceramic door.

Painted blue, I realise there’s nothing left to superglue.

Ceramic cracking, pavement slacking as my porcelain body crumbles.

Down the stairs and to the street my China body tumbles.