Poem

then came the skeletons …

slips on barnacled rocks
time for a grazing

crabs in salted pools
scabs from the exotic past

scatters on a dryer land
stand on grassy ground

see the ewe & lamb
hear the song of birds in flight

herds of cows – the people
ordinary’s skirge

grey wojak towns
grainy sand between us

sky in each sigh
shrouded in thick cloudbursts

thirsting for act three
we, the parched players

arch like marbled structures
corpse each stifled line

faded from green
in some autumn woodland shrine

hooded like a monk
in lieu of a rusty key

then came the skeletons
dancing after dawnbreak

…

bites in the night

…


stalking the corridors
she is dismal death

watching us like carrion
until we nowak

as we go about
business in this mad house

you are now tuned in
to radio broadmoor

fm & online
out the other – said the actress

but we’d rather be sleeping
on a bed, comfy mattress

yet the dark is a lark
& community is bright shite

bites in the night
but the bugs shall not become us

…