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April 17, 2018

An early sun,

And all goes wrong.

An early sun ….

A long day ….

A long day to wonder,

To wander. To where?


Henceforth, a sufferance,

A suffragette, etcetera.

Who was right, who wrong?

A massive piece of woodwork.

A class for lowly fools,

Who can’t afford to wait.


It’s a shame, the imagery,

No problems. Think at will.

It’s a shambles, this homestead,

I can force myself out.

But what is there out there?

I’ve seen it. I’ve done it, all.


Don’t ask questions. She has the answers,

Half, less, submit what’s owed.

Worried, not. My time will be wasted,

Then rather than now.

Sleep in clothing. Live in ….

I’ve no live in. I struggle and strive.


I’ve seen where they lived,

The men of history.

Not recent histories,

Their homes sicken me.

They didn’t struggle and strive,

No: quite the contrary.


Older partners leave nice settlements,

For we loved better, better than others.

Longer lines – they’re no problem,

A business, a friend. I know no difference.

Inarticulate. We know the reasons,

I listen to the song, where all begins.


All begins with music, classical,

All that young lovers know is ….

I can’t see what her bag contains,

Is it murder, is it loving?

She, death before me. She informed me,

Quite a lady. To hold her hand ….


She assaulted me with a kiss,

That I misunderstood, at first.

Far easier, the mores of this land,

Are the names right? I know not her name.

Short haired, dark haired beauty,

A current obsession, I know.


To be known is petty,

To be known as ….

It’s ready, though it’s shorthand,

Leave me time …. a year.

Springtime …. next,

In springtime, we’ll laugh.


Forget a line, add a line,

It’s not how it was intended.

But now I know, and all’s right,

And good. I’ll add nothing.

There was a deadline, a curfew,

And here, the missing line ….


I’ll tell him with a little note,

He’ll know it’s me without a name.

A signature. Return to sender,

Returned to sender, unknown.

We recognise handwriting, not,

They all feel the same hardships.


Can you break a twenty, a fifty?

Breakfast for dinner, normal, we know.

When we sleep in clothing, etcetera,

They make the right decisions, for us.

A simple gift idea. That’s me,

And my work. Me, I strove.


Death beat me to the plate,

He works long. Late to literature.

Work till death: the work kills him,

My work: it kills me also.

It’s not what it was, never,

Before. Hitherto. Don’t touch it.


Don’t touch my work. Leave it then,

Enter. No greeting. Unlike before.

The head, the chief, does little,

That is visible: he makes tough calls.

Hard decisions and such. I don’t need two,

Fool. The fool will die in prison.


He looks pathetic now, I know,

He’s seen the rigours, hard time.

Now, he’ll flee, to island paradise,

And as for his wife? Oh well.

She chose poorly. Once a beauty,

She knew, always. She’s as guilty, not.


We call a truce: he’ll be free,

The black man, he’ll be free.

To divide and conquer, but,

He remains a slave, we know.

And the white man fears him,

We live in bourgeois quarters.


And when we die in prison?

A wooden cross marks our place.

An anonymous wooden cross, nameless,

No one will weep there, ever.

A private burial for you, dear sir,

We won’t advise your kin, etcetera.


Letters go unanswered, for too long,

An anonymous grave; an anonymous book.

Which stands the test of time, etcetera,

Anonymous artwork, from a simple time.

A simpler time. When was it ever simpler?

We always have greater complication, I know.


Edit, update. Change, buy here, poor friend,

Or I’ll buy for you, you, too poor to pay.

How did it get this way, poor friend?

You lost out on a wager, or some such fate.

Wagers are not wise: play them slyly,

Otherwise, not at all. Adieu.


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