When days are framed in shivering blue-grey
but hot sun lulls the still noon to a daze;
where roads the ruffling shores of commerce laze,
I slump into the looming of the day.
I cannot say what thoughts run through my mind,
for they are foreign to me, rhythms strange,
coercion of the heavy hands of change,
which are not human, neither soft nor kind.
All I can do is hold to the way set me
and let these waves make up for lack of sleep.
Fragments of feelings juddering through me,
indecipherable emptinesses keep,
hearing the gist of a booming address -
delirium churning meaninglessness.
......................
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Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
