Chapter 80: Corona Poetry

Covid19. What an arsehole.

Here is today’s thoroughly uplifting efforts.

Not your view

I walk
this tomb
Live-in ghost
room to room
I feel
loving home
family meals
grey business deals
I walk
Through my tomb
Every memory
Of every room
Chalk walled mantras linger
Memories reduced
to monetary figure
What got us here
Petty rants begotten
heated conversations
display tomb preservation
All adrift
nothing blips
Of a time
a quartet
Of long sailed ships
I watch
Aye me
these Juliet dreams
From my balcony
Floral green
nineties Gypsy
Palm unfolding
Crystal ball scolding

You’ll get your tower
decking amongst the trees
But… she paused
…won’t be what it seems
What the fuck?
sighed the unseeing me
Lived and seen

Sad mourning mountains
Heard sorrows and fears
Patient forest trees
caught podium tears
High amidst the blue
always had you
No longer my view
No longer my hills
Achingly swallowed
the tartest of pills
Long, relentless battle – surrendered to conceive
And now
I can’t fucking leave?
Can’t heal
Can’t walk away
Corona calling
chains dragging
In this tomb
Every day






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