the kings of old
they suffered fools,
yet we are cursed
to suffer fools as kings
so jesters weep
the kings of old
they suffered fools,
yet we are cursed
to suffer fools as kings
so jesters weep
silent, Jack Frost creeps
leaves once green now black as pitch
death has come to town
the keys
he threw aside
they could rust
and crumble
to dust
for all he cared
he’d unlocked
his doors
forever
and hoped she’d call soon.
Song for Tuesday written partly on Monday – http://wp.me/p5fYLI-i
our world spins backwards
and the ghost of Nero laughs
bread and circuses
it could never happen here
just tint the world
into black and white
can you spot the difference
between then and now?
in my dream
I glued some socks
to a wall
in Liverpool
but I failed to use
wallpaper paste
so I felt
quite the fool
so now I’m left
with a wall
that is so
cold and bare
and all my socks
lie on the floor
and i’m missing
the odd pair
in every line
that I have writ
I find you there
whether conscious
and by design
or in the wisdom
of retrospect
I discover my life
has been the quest
for the perfect prose
you so eloquently
express
by being, just being
you.
newspeak surrounds us
self absorbed denial rules
the world is ungood