Sunday 5 August 2012

The Wanderer's Curse


There is always a Me, and a Them,
But there never really is an Us,
They'll let you in, yes,
They'll be nice to you,
Share their food even;

But there's always that little space
They keep in between,
The r not rolled correctly,
The colour of your skin,
Or the way you smile at the women;

They're happy to help you try,
But if you do roll the r the right way,
There's something about eating cheese
That you won't get right.

The best jokes are not for you,
They'll cuss just out of earshot
So you can hear the hiss,
And they might talk to you about return journeys
More often than you think polite.

Stay apart, Wanderer,
You never did belong,
You never will.

death


i have seen in my time then
the death of a baby
the death of a dog
the death of dreams
the death of many things
yet
and that is a big yet
i seem to live on
to have the will to live
to see more deaths
the death of a star
the death of a puppy
the death of an ant
but
fungus grows on those dead bodies
and so life thrives
so maybe that is a lesson
still
can i really live through
the death of a friend
the death of a frog
the death of hope
or a cherished principle
maybe

i can
i am still alive

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