They got me that time

no crime,

time served deserves
an extension

we pretend that others do not exist,
stare our way through each day
until we get home and
then it’s the telephone and
the world is okay
I take a ride in the landau
listen to
it’s just a matter of no fact at all.

Walk tall, mum said, as I hid under the bed,
always monsters to fight
wrongs to fix,

nearly midnight and no Oasis
what’s this,
music of the solo mind?

Walkman no talk man makes
Jack a bull dog or something
that hides in dark corners.

Still dozing my way through the
thoughts and each day
I am dozing
some more,
it’s slightly not keyed in
the code is not right
the dots don’t line up
it could be my eyesight.

‘if you haven’t got a penny a halfpenny will do’
then they decimalised the system and the
scheme fell through,

what about you?
do you collect stamps?
get cramps?
forget your name?

I am one of the same among many
declawed even as I roared
my defiance and we should not
place any reliance on the material things
nor spirituality
or any eventuality that eventually
will occur

share nothing
even thoughts have shadows that
show up in ultra violet light
wrong or am I right?

This is broadcast by the
‘last of the Mohicans’,

‘should have kept my hair on,
white eyes speaks with forked tongue,
bet he
eats his peas with it’

thank God for madness
she is
the mistress of sanity
the goddess of poetry.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.