10-08-2011, 09:34 AM
Once he dimmed the lamps and walked
his beat in darkness every night,
as sirens sounded overhead,
sudden death the single light.
Now he bemoans his fellows' rights,
supports the BNP each year,
raves at the world from his old house,
Poisons any listening ear.
A sense of duty holds our tongues,
we cannot grasp his memories,
shattered neighbourhoods and lives;
we bear him like a sick baby.
Even his kids have left him now.
(He never quite learned how to love.)
But we can't grasp his memories,
shattered neighbourhoods, and doves.
his beat in darkness every night,
as sirens sounded overhead,
sudden death the single light.
Now he bemoans his fellows' rights,
supports the BNP each year,
raves at the world from his old house,
Poisons any listening ear.
A sense of duty holds our tongues,
we cannot grasp his memories,
shattered neighbourhoods and lives;
we bear him like a sick baby.
Even his kids have left him now.
(He never quite learned how to love.)
But we can't grasp his memories,
shattered neighbourhoods, and doves.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe