here’s a poem from a collection which I have
been writing. Any thoughts would be
appreciated
Tooting town on Friday
Out come the cries of grey, black and blue.
A man looks down on the mountain
But there’s nothing the mountain can do.
There’s a rain in the air tonight
But only the weak are dejected
So come, run along with these daemons!
You’re sure to become as infected
With a trend, a fad or a plague
Running wild amongst these poor plebs
Rich with their ticks and slashes,
Let’s hope that it stays from their heads.
Once in a while there’s sunshine
Rationed between nine and three
But once the gates have been opened
As is our brief humanity,
Our sanity and our pride,
Replaced with vanity, profanity
And phones that no-one’s trying to hide.
The “Crazy Frog” has spoken,
An epitome of our sin,
Annoying, loud and provoking,
The true British next of kin.
Thanks for your time.
James
