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Jun 2013
And one more day will cut away to fade into the bubble wrap
where I can trap the memory to
film and file and in the circuitry where I can find the me
I picture history among the jewellry that sparkles lustre-ly.

One more night to fight the demons that arise to
whistle plaintively
as one more daylight dies
and who is there?
and who is there to battle fallen dreams that fell off sunken bridges to drown in flowing streams and who is there to lend a moment of their time and if in a moment would I resign myself to the night time mockery?
where Satan doles out misery and charges me to join in miserably.

Oh bring me the day with all its history as yet untouched by hands that want to hurt and much good would it do to see
someone waiting especially for me
it cannot be
that all I have is bubble wrap to tap into and clap my eyes upon
where has this life of mine disappeared to and where has it gone?

It is just another trap to think like that and waiting as I do for some full on attack
I reset and play again the pack of tarot cards
and life is dealt to me as if I was a wind up toy whose mainspring went
oh boy
it couldn't could it not that I have drawn the hanged man
the final dot
black spot
a truly Pirate's lot.
I got no hope to make it till the morning comes
the sand runs and my life guns itself into the fast lane
another all the same
and if it's just a game
why do I always lose?
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  67/Here and now
(67/Here and now)   
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