Poem 55

hands up all you volunteers
we’re going in

when time is thin upon the ground
frost is thick within the air
and when your heart begins to pound
nobody hears ‘cepting the volunteers
but they’ll skate or skirt around you
if you don’t sign up on the line

I was a time back time ago
when I wanted to but didn’t know
the password

she passed word
I passed wind

We were, are and the volunteer
where each hand up is
one more
slice of cake and tea dear?

Madness always trips the brave
save me and I’ll be the slave
you never wanted
never had
save me or I’ll go quite mad
and be a volunteer
another volunteer

and then towards the end of times
volunteers stretch out in lines
to fill some gap
but find too late the gap
is sprung and was in fact the trap
to trap the lot of them, those
who never saw the writing on the wall,
too busy righting wrongs
or singing
scout camp songs
to notice anything.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.