I knew a man called trvevour
Way back then through the mist
I know
yet it's so hard to convince
The people who say that
Trevour exists
Is a complete fantasy
My *******
They twist

Get up and drink
Wouldn't that
Be funny
But we live in a world
That runs on money
The thing is that that means
What We create
Is based on the workings
Of what you call hate.

It's not Tuesday
I hear you say
I believe that
Does matter anyway
Good lord
The facts are not real
So get ready for incredible speed
I say things that you cannot believe
But get ready
For stuff
That
Makes you
Feel
Real.

In polished chipped diorite
The essence of a god
The detail is incredible
His expression slightly odd

They found him upside down
In a pit in the valley temple
An indignity four millennia long
Trapped under sands
Not inconsequential

When you approach him from the front
He seems alone
This King of Kings
But when you see him from the side
Horus laughing spreads his wings.

We never got here.

My fox of the hedgerows has silver white fur
a sleek and dangerous cunning cur,
nails like needles, teeth like splinters
I’ve heard him howl these many winters