..and
no Archbishop to spout the gospel,
he was spotted in Mayfair begging for
the price of a bed for the night in the
Whitechapel hostel

times are what they are
which is probably better than
what we think they might be.

He is risen,
not a euphemism
there are no dinosaurs,

here, we are all equal
unless the law tells us
that we are not.

So you can
call life a *****
a glitch
an itch in the ****
or a
Brian Rix farce
but
it's what we've got

I'm happy about that.

Easter Saturday
and Jesus rested
( in the tomb )
wish
I could rest
( not in a tomb )
but in the living room
bedroom
or any room,
but no
once again
I am scheduled
to work.

I should be on Chapter Eight of my life
and yet
here I am, an old dog
just leaving
the prologue.

These really are peculiar times
and my bones ache.

You would think that we'd know
that
everything was just so
but
I only know what I think
and at the moment
I think that Good Friday wasn't
that good at all.

Work was depressingly manic
and I now need a tonic
to tide me through the dark hours
of the night.

been up for two hours
and
just remembered that
today is Good Friday
then I remembered that
I'm working today,

Good Friday indeed.

Self-doubting
and the ripples spread out in
ever widening circles.

Try not to do it
try
to power your way through it,

we're all heading down to the ocean
some
are placid streams
some are raging torrents
some are serene
some filled with torments
but
we're all going to get there
in the end.

Imagine the mirror image imagining you imagining it.
and who would do that?

me
me
I wanna go
I wanna know
what I'm imagined as being.

Only Thomas knew
and even he doubted

once again
that ******* in the back row
shouted
get off, you're no good.