Building the Ark mk 2

The light began to dim because
the oil was running low and the
morning came a creeping up
as if I didn’t know,

never meant to be the stranger
I am Tonto to the Sunshine Ranger.

I am the storm
reap me, read me
in the early morn.

In spite of me
I write of me
my protestation is but
the denunciation of
previous wrongs

and the megalo’ in me
dressed as Romeo
sees the spotlight on me
as I put on
the one man show.

Behind these masks
there are certain deeds and tasks
of which I shall not mention.

Against the rule of
vitamin A and
I would tack this to the end
but the end is yet to be and
in this the truth could be
nothing more than
ripened Brie
( nice to spread upon your bread,
but fit for nothing else)

I would be a Jane
but I am John
also a Christian
and how do I carry on
this thread?

What I see inside is
beyond me
as fathomless as a
bottomless sea
I never understood
how could I?
the third eye
is blind.

Between the cemetery
and the library
a sign that reads,

here lies my poetry

© 2018, John Smallshaw.