Sabotage

Sometimes underrated,

Sometimes understated,

And sometimes squished into dog poo.

But the interface of foot and planet

Is the domain of the shoe,

Or more truly that’s the place of all footwear,

It could be a boot, or sandal, or clog

That’s located down there.

And, though I’ve no wish to be rude,

I do have to tell you, that feet can be nude,

Exposed to the elements,

To sharp thorns, to cruel broken glass

Or the bite and sting of beasts

Who lurk in the grass

But Footwear can show status, or betray poverty

Be high or low heeled, be hidden or be seen,

Be dreamt about by fetishists

Or be marched in by fascists,

But if you study history

You’ll see that footwear’s destiny,

Is not to shield feet,

Nor ornately display them,

Nor keep them camouflaged,

But to break the machine

Like the hurled workers’ clogs.

The true purpose of the shoe is

Sabotage