Nothingness tastes like strawberries


If I am carried off in a golden chariot to
those Elysian fields,
it will only be because
they’ll have mixed me up with
some saintly soul.

They all lie,
they’ll tell you sixty is the new thirty
but you’ll still die
and shortly they’ll tell you what
you want to hear
and you will believe
but you’ll still die
and will you still try to act your age?

You have your page in the book of deeds
it’s a bit like Facebook except it’s not
it’s a warts and all,
fly on the wall
‘ This is your life ‘

don’t expect
Eamonn Andrews.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.