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Category: Walk

I Started Seeing Skeletons

I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day
Not clean, clinical, comical, classroom ones
But stinking, putrid corpses where rotting corrupted flesh
Hangs in stinking, putrid strips
The puss of a thousand dreadful sins dripping in their wake

I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day
Their hollow vacant eyes hiding hollow vacant lies
Hiding evil done and good undone
Inhaling hypocrisy, exhaling insincerity
As they crawl through painted gilded lives

I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day
Where faces were, bigotry remains
Where hands were now deception lingers
What once was flesh is now duplicity
Arrogance like skin wears them well

I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day
Smelling their lust, their greed, their fear
As I walked among these living rancid dead
One with them, part of them
A fallen soul in a fallen world

I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day

08/02/2017

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At the grave of James Hogg, The Ettrick Shepherd

Silent stone word carved
By church and heath
Says so little
Of the soul that lies
Under turf
And sky
What spark was lit
From that mortal frame
And raised
From lowly shepherd
So divine a voice
In this lonely place?

I feel a debt
Of thankfulness
And humility
To this kindred spirit
Whose majesty I feel
Reaching out
As I stand
Before the
Silent stone word carved

19/09/1998

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Passing By

How many years have these stones
Here stood?
Mute watchers of hurrying seasons
Here where once lived voices
‘Neath turf and heather roofed
Lie now open to storms hungry soul
Windows where eyes once gazed
On walls and ferns and burn below
Now lie open to the clouds
Like needle eye unthread
All is silent now
Except for winds harsh howl
Garden grazed by black faced sheep
Lichen grows on fireplace
Where peat a family kept warm
All is cold now
Untended
Unheeded
As I walk on

18/09/1998

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Suburban Hell

As I stumble through this existence
I wander past
Rows of stark stone prisons
Encaging sad suburban souls
Within their lifeless, faced-brick cells.
They mete out their unhappy existences
Behind tired chintz masks
Vying with each other
In uselessness
And emptiness
Trying to be the first
To new levels of unhappiness.
They seek to pacify
Their material gods
With plastic offerings
Lain before a brushed chrome altar.
They have the same oneness of mediocrity,
Of outward decency
And inward moral gangrene.
They talk of the weather,
The news,
The garden
And inside they lust
For fornication
To the world they are virtuous
And to the universe nothing
Forever NOTHING.

13/07/1990

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A walk along a river bank

Through the chill mist comes the honk of lonely goose
From an island over in the stream
Somewhere out of view
In the grey light of early day

In the field cattle stand
Lowing, guiding the days bright entrance
Chewing cud and grass
Viewing world with watchful eye

From nowhere the wheezing whoosh of wings
Tells us of swans arising
On tall columns of milk frothed air

Ahead on dewy bank
A heron statued stands
A grey sentry to our approach
Along path
Sided sometimes by sloes
In their season

Distant comes the whispering
Watery sound of weir
And mill and stream
And the church bell tolling
This hour of dawn

At the gate in the corner we turn
And homeward head
To a world more frantic
Than this timeless place

22/04/1998

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