no great ceremony for a Tuesday
it slips into the rest of the week
quietly jostling for position
giving Wednesday a shove
telling it to wait it's turn
pushing Monday out the way
which nobody liked and everyone dreaded
we start to forget to mourn the past weekend
even looking forward to the next
just like us it has every right to be here
perhaps even miracles can happen
perhaps this is where it all comes good

sunrise
over concrete and stone
reflected in glass and steel
the metal river flows between
as everyone leaves but never goes
seeing with their eyes closed
never enough to take their fill
onwards upwards hungering still
trying to grasp that corporate dream
luring them at every turn
faster and faster to the setting sun
they are all running to stand still
looking for happiness
unfulfilled

opinions and thoughts die
like unwanted infants in the womb
beautiful but doomed
never to see the light of life
shunned by a world
looking the other way
I feel sad, I really do
for never knowing the truth
lies perpetuated by a cruel world
always knowing better
than those under fire
better
than true desire
politicians oligarchs
self inserted gods
in their houses of cards
time for us to rise and shine
a velvet revolution
from the velvet underground

a pause
designed to create an awkwardness
a storm
brews from a cloudless sky to touch terra firma
a rage
all consuming emotion projected outwards
the eye
a calm central refuge surrounded by weather and hate
time
to prepare for the inevitable stand ground or escape
all that anger out there in the world
waiting to express itself
perhaps the clouds above us catch our wrath
projecting it back with the power of our hatred

the air outside is still
as though the world
is a living room
and the trees furniture
shouts arousing fear
sound close at hand
aggressive threatening
as though directed at me
a tiny spider crawls
up the front of my shirt
one of those that makes
a web of your head
and itches all day
a car more noise than power
echoes it's exhaust sound
round the terraced houses
then
all becomes quiet
as though waves have
mellowed into a millpond
a bird sings
the most haunting beautiful
refrain,  lonely chanteuse
filling the airwaves
finally I sleep again