Round four

For what little good life does for me
I may as well be plugged into the
electricity
switching the wires and getting it free,
don’t tell the
L.E.B.

Feels like I’m boxing
with shadows
with rocks in my head,
feet formed from clay and
somewhere it’s
Saturday
the knock out drop.

it will stop
it will cease
there’ll be no peace
’til it does.

and there’s hope
sackfulls,
pulled on a sleigh
popped down the chimney pot
on Christmas day
but
those with central heating
are screwed.

If we are alone,
at the end
we are all
‘billy no-mates heading
through the pearly gates
if only.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.