Loin des jardins de Babylone

Et le palais des amazones

Il y avait des amants autochtones

Dans ce territoire du Fujirama  ( half Pink Martini/ half hearing aid)

Portable hard-drives, touching cherry wood

Roses in a photograph

A painting at Grand Fathers

A mic on a stand

Faraway lands

Where I never rest

The son of man has nowhere to rest his head

That’s what I was told

So do with big boy

You got a girl now,

Or so you you believe,

Will she ever know

You say she’s dispensable

You’ve gone to and fro

What are you telling me

That I shouldn’t know

What I’m doing really

That would be best.

At times you’ve proclaimed her as one of your own

Elevated her to celebrations with writers of the past

Told me I was to care for her

You don’t think so little of me that I would abandon her

Why am I writing this:

Because instead of getting drunk

and making-up another concoction

for my life to look blessed, for no-one

I  am just being factual

Because surely what you told me

Was your way of manipulating me

To do what you want.

And now? I know

It’s just perfect as it is.

And it will always be perfect

on your blistering avenue


2 thoughts on “Who?

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