I remember in my early working life, someone saying the phrase “The world is in a state of kiosk” Deliberately replacing the word chaos with kiosk. Funny how these things stay with you.

KIOSK.

There’s a kiosk for train tickets, a kiosk for the bus
A kiosk for car park attendants, football they can discuss
A kiosk for newspapers, a kiosk for magazines
All kinds of lies are spread, and pictures quite obscene

A kiosk where you can cast your vote, another waste of time
A kiosk to buy vapes and cigarettes, after all it’s not a crime
A kiosk where a guard can stand, to guard our precious royalty
A kiosk where a soldier is laid, after a lifetime of his loyalty.

A kiosk for your little phone, covers, wires and things
A kiosk called a bell tower where the church bell rings
A kiosk for tea and coffee, drugs or alcoholic drink
A kiosk where I can lock myself in and just sit and think

I sit and think of chaos, I sit and think of clowns
Sit here and think of the mess we’ve made until the sun goes down
I sit here and write my poetry, and all that can be said
But for all the difference I can make, I may as well be dead.

All words Meadowhead Bard.