Then I have drank gallons from the well where hope springs eternal,
watched as walls crumbled, saw the old ideas sink as the new came in
I have been and am what I have seen
and then became more.
what does the blender know of a chefs passion?
it just does what it’s made for
I cut out the pictures that form within vessels to paste upon words that then slip from my lips
(artists and trips)
Limits are defined by the bars that are raised between minds
and who would say it wasn’t so?
and if we’re all on death row why write about life?
or why not write of life?
Easy to feel penned in, hemmed in, imprisoned and if that’s what we do to ourselves
the jailers have a hard time explaining freedom
see it’s all to do with you and me and them or us, the few, the many and I don’t have any answers which do not beget more questions
© 2018, John Smallshaw.