Friday, 27 February 2015


Life's last preamble
A misery of treeless deserts
Where sand in your sandwiches
Would be welcome.

The grit in your eyes
Declares tears of longing
Betraying the human hope of that
One in a million heaven.

For it's only in the griping days
Of failed bodies
Shattered joints to be rolled up
And cremated.

Was there another path
In the warrens, amongst the maze
Down the mirrored corridors was there power
Or is it fated.

Looking back there are always
Turning days that smile
In an unknowing destruction
Selling you down the sunken paths
That rut and rot you
Or across the least travelled obstruction.

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