Two for the price of one.
(Slow bus stories)
Credit where it's due
we both knew
this day would come
and we didn't run
away.
Like most men
I wondered when
the scales would tip,
I tripped along the way
but
knew that I'd arrive
you
balanced me
and the pressure
so easily,
faultlessly,
any fool could see
that together we
would survive.
if there are mountains
yet to climb
and time allows
we
shall ascend
as always
I will depend on you
as you shall lean
on me.
Time for one more.
Stepney Green
the golden dream
of Booth,
is salvation truth?
or just another army
on the march?
the memorial to man
pigeon ****
a crushed can,
a beggar underneath
stone feet
looks up to meet
the gaze
of spent and wasted
days
a chipped finger
pointing to the West
and lest the **** crow
first
I wait a second to begin
then try to fit all these
thoughts in,
a jigsaw and an open mind
helps
me to find a way.
Thursday
not a bad day,
not as good as Friday
but a fair day,
a get you up to wish
you'd washed your hair day
Booth looks away
****** off probably
what with him being buried
up the road
in Stoke Newington
cemetery
even ghosts would much prefer
to lay at rest beneath a finger
pointing to the West,
but he's still there,
the beggar,
older and
he could have told you
if he wasn't so cold
you
might have listened
too.
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
Two for the price of one.
(Slow bus stories)
Credit where it's due
we both knew
this day would come
and we didn't run
away.
Like most men
I wondered when
the scales would tip,
I tripped along the way
but
knew that I'd arrive
you
balanced me
and the pressure
so easily,
faultlessly,
any fool could see
that together we
would survive.
if there are mountains
yet to climb
and time allows
we
shall ascend
as always
I will depend on you
as you shall lean
on me.
Time for one more.
Stepney Green
the golden dream
of Booth,
is salvation truth?
or just another army
on the march?
the memorial to man
pigeon ****
a crushed can,
a beggar underneath
stone feet
looks up to meet
the gaze
of spent and wasted
days
a chipped finger
pointing to the West
and lest the **** crow
first
I wait a second to begin
then try to fit all these
thoughts in,
a jigsaw and an open mind
helps
me to find a way.
Thursday
not a bad day,
not as good as Friday
but a fair day,
a get you up to wish
you'd washed your hair day
Booth looks away
****** off probably
what with him being buried
up the road
in Stoke Newington
cemetery
even ghosts would much prefer
to lay at rest beneath a finger
pointing to the West,
but he's still there,
the beggar,
older and
he could have told you
if he wasn't so cold
you
might have listened
too.
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