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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
May 2017
Bloodworks
rows upon rows that stretch down the street
they butter shop windows with cold shuttered steel,
ever feel that you're not wanted?
and what's inside?
is it so valuable?
The sign says
welcome
but
It's so impersonal.
It cuts both ways
we close ourselves off
from others
and
move through the days
like the living dead.
It's no use saying,
are you ready to rock
to a rock.
just exercising the pointlessness is a pointless exercise.
It's Thursday
and
if you're living the dream
it's time to wake
don't you know they've got
you wired to the mains
and the system's going
to blow?
Welcome
step inside
feel free to browse
all breakages must
be paid for.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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