Has it come very far?
Is it waiting to be filled
Or quite happy as it is?
Could it be struck?
Would it ring?
Without any handle
It’s an enigmatic thing…
Hey theré! Mr. Sand-Man
One day you’re a glad man
Your style of fashion is no fad
Do moor burns trickle and drain your tears?
The tears have hardened with years
Your rent’s in arrears
Take a day or two.
Dress up in pearls and sequins!
Put all your doubters to route
Forget the school you learned by rote
Freely embark upon Being.
What’s with you is now without
No need to cry or shout
You argued with death despised
Now joy is realised.
Sea-shells and snails adorn your garden
Time hides amongst your toes
Who knows where it is born and how it goes?
Sometimes fast, other times slow.
Your friends dangle from your fingers on telephone lines
Like valuable rings they sparkle and spangle and shine
You wear stars on your brows
You frown, inveigle and wrangle.
Can you shoot common sense dead?
Dense, you prove your own head
What’s to prove? You lose
And the professor grooves
Shoots shove aside dense cement
Your silent roots.
Two minds in one brain?
Too different, always the same
Talks and spits in your eye
Ineffably stupid and extravagantly shy!
Copyright © Christopher J Hudson 1999