April 2021 Collage Poem: From the Shadows
If you don't know you won't know
and if you don't know that, then what do you know apart from that
according to you I am not me
An eightball car without wheels but with music
In the shadows of the city, the philosopher killed his bride
I knew the bride before she got wed he shrieked
and she smashed the DJ over the head with a bottle of 16th century single malt whiskey
Mr Motorist in red and gold didn't know Bromsgrove sat in the shadow of the city.
In the shadows, you will have to find your own way home.
In the shadows nobody can hear you scream
I hate the tagged light, give me darkness
I hate the closed sign on the cake shop next to the A6
The sounds of Stockport City, imprinted on magnetic tape,
To be read in a distant time, when we were all locked again
Watchtower trees hear midnight stories from the void.
Shadows, metal, trees and glints of sun -
Remembered in two towers of fact not fantasy.