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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Jun 2017
When the chickens come home
We could be up there
inside the circle
outside the square
but
we're not.
The tower blocks still rise
and we're locked in,
surprise,
but not really
is it?
you don't get fat when you're being fed on lies
and you're stuck in a flat so you sever all ties
and that's modern society,
the new social realism.
but we could be up there
with the higher echelon
sitting on
the top stair
looking down to where
we could be.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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kim
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