Poem – mrb
Tinsel Town In Scene Of A Crime; August 2017
Those woolly mammoth machines
The tanks on the horizon
Firing shells over the seashores
We’d hope they were extinct by now
Why won’t they let us be?
Be
Bees in a hive of sweet honey
Those furry sloths
Those tinsel town furries
The cuddly truth – life, lived and huddled
The negating slurry pile outside
We must avoid the drab somedays
To mention the futile is a nun day
Few like none say
Tiles on the church floor are all splintered
Let us keep our resistance, friends
Keep the resistance of machinery
And the warmth of the natural world
It’s tinsel town in scene of a crime
Roll up boys and girls!
Father Christmas has come to play with you
Sit on his lap for a present or two
Chuckle with mince pies and mum’s cookin’ stew
Far away from the mammoth tanks
And the slurry pile of everyday life.
Tinsel town in scene of a crime.
Life beyond feeling like a lost dime,
Thrown into the sea like a shell off a soldier;
Relaxing from conflagration of aggressive boulders;
A rolling bauble gathers no moss .
And a child of the world no unkindness to throw over the
trenches
Why won’t they let us be?
We knew...
We lied to father Christmas once...
We didn’t put tinsel round the tree
We lost our faith in humanity.
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