Flies gathered around its tiny body,
Its feet turned toward the sky
As if preparing to continue the
Never-ending rat race among the clouds.
People walk past and turn up their noses.
The only good rat is a
Dead rat, but why?
They exist just like us, their little hearts
Pumping just as fast as ours.
They scurry from place to place, ducking between
Thursday 23rd March 2023 9:07 pm
Why can't we find a place
Where no rats are in the race
Where only idle things prevail
Where, together, we could sail
Upstream from all the madness
So far from all the sadness
Serenely would it lead
To a place where we are freed
To be as naked as at birth
Just us and Mother Earth
There, we'll dig ourselves a hole
And bury deep our sou...
Thursday 18th November 2021 5:52 pm
Written on June 1st 2011 as an assignment based on the Calendar, set by John Cassidy for Bank Street Writers, Bolton.
O God of Sun, on Sunnandaeg,
I worship thee with spray -on bronze,
Because thy workload is quite big,
There’ll be a lot of wet week-ends.
God of the Moon, on Monandaeg,
I offer thee my hangover,
Last night I was a lunatic,
Oh I am deep...
Friday 3rd June 2011 7:32 pm