Chapter 80: Corona Poetry

Covid19. What an arsehole.

Here is today’s thoroughly uplifting efforts.

Not your view

I walk
As in a tomb
Live-in ghost
room to room

I feel
Each cranny
Every nook
I trace
I look

loving place
loving Home
warm meals
grey business deals

I walk
Through my tomb
Every memory
Of every room

Height charts
Chalk walled mantras linger
Memories reduced
to monetary figure

What got us here,
Petty rants
display preservation
done with
Irrelevant, irritating blips
Of a time
Of a quartet
Of long sailed ships

I watch
Ay me
Always these Juliet dreams
From my balcony
Floral green
nineties Gypsy
She told me
Touched my palm
Crystal ball scolding
You’ll get your tower
decking amongst the trees
But… she paused
…won’t be what it seems
sighed the unseeing me



I have lived.
I have seen.
(brokenly appreciative)

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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