Ach. Shame. A poem.

[PhilipDodd]

A poem. Just because.

M.E.S.

Writing lyrics in a corner shop note book,
scratching paper with a corner shop pen.
The hip priest, the alpha and omega.
He peers at the other men at the bar
Yesterday’s shirts reading yesterday’s news.
Too much mouth gets him a punch in the face,
he has to turn the snow globe upside down.
Split lip’s red slice turns up the contrast,
and the snow falls from the earth to the sky

A fast crack creeps along the window pane,
he needs a nice non liquid livener.
Glam rock on the jukebox needs tightening,
needs a rattle and a crack repeated.
He chokes daylight out of summertime blues.
Hears metronome and hears repetition,
of a snarling, grinding, rattle jangle.
He has to turn the snow globe upside down,
so the snow falls from the earth to the sky.

[Jules]

Not bad, better than anything I could do.

[MylesHic]

I like it, Philip. Do you have more poetry to share with us?

[Edwise]

Literally terrific. Not to be read at bedtime.