Spliced
Teachers disco a bumbling twirl of ridiculous clothing
A two-tone jacket competion
I feel like a brogue fitting haircut
The one with the smell of the seaside
And grease scraped onto a razor blade
The same one to cut the gesture
A mirror reflected powder
To make it look like twice as much in sales talk
Just my crutch that needs some snatching
To fall on a concrete step
Leaning for questions for the torrent of listeners
Fed up with complaining
The same old story told over and again
Insane trips to the conceptual practitioner
The one with a rack to hang my clothes on
And impart your inner feelings on a burnt steak dinner plate
Washed down with wine
Feeling less than fine
I go out in the morning
As if to drink on Sundays
A parchment day for ministers
Feeling dry bread in the back of the cupboard
The one that is laced with brambles
Sharp shooting nest builders
Hidden in magpie wings
In the sun
On the horizon
Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright May 11th 2015`
Poet's Corner 