We're all on a road to somewhere.
Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust,
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.
On the banks of the Thames,
beyond the doors of the Tate,
seen through the haze
of a London heatwave,
the Post-Modernist of Fate
painting it all black.
Trying hard to forget
the brushstrokes of regret.
The good, the bad,
the beautiful, and the ugly,
in the broken mirror of time
all staring back at me.
When Planet Earth
was first given birth,
a world of wonder and beauty,
it was good.
Could be. Should be.
The Spirit challenges me
. . . “CHANGE”.
Been driving since sun up
and it’s hotter than hell
I could do with a feed
and a drink or two
Best stop up ahead
at the Hebel Town Hotel
Down to sleep
their souls to keep
Vulnerable
innocent and meek
Shaken … in shock
Grim trauma that seeps
out from the gutter
to reap
Below life’s glitter
where mothers weep
for innocence shattered
beyond all hope
Watch out now
Take care
Beware
Given enough rope
all things dark
and fearful
… into the deep
Advice for yet another
next “New Bob Dylan”,
If you wish to save
your immortal soul,
and your vocal chords,
from oblivion;
