Poem of the Day — Passed Presents

by paturnerlee

Passed presents


Despicable, reviled;

Piled on yellow parasites


Cold dark nights sliding down stairs

Steps too much

A similar stream, dreams, intentions blurred

Savouring, puncturing continually broken values

Flattened like roadwork signs

Crushed by budgets

Chained to railings

Iconic and forgotten


A brief and seething tension

Brought down to levels of grappling

Wrestling your under arm fragrance

Torment sold to build up arenas


Cold hearted money men

A web of industries

Built in cages of glass


A pyramid of functions

Locked in desiring deluges

Flowing like treacle melting

Hanging from trees

Like dead man’s had keys


To turn open groping darkness

Flashing lights in finished laboratories


A sold part of history


Mayhem and pressed laundry

Folded but not forgotten

With torn and tatty parchment

Eyes departing from sockets

Too worn for mending

Just condescending


A paraffin fire

Guarded by smells and torchlight

Warms the company of complicit criminals



Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 29th December 2015


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