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Change, that's what's need

Leave our egos in bed

Let our imaginations roam

Che and I rarely saw eye to eye

As we passed below the Oxford Circus

Clowns hanging around

Learning to pontificate, always

Too early, always too late

Face death, be bereft, grow up

Read the book written in the stars

In the etchings of a beloved's face

Grow wise, no disguise

Learn that nothing lasts.

Che & I shared

An unsteady silence. He suspected

Me. I suspected him.

He knew he was right

I doubted his slogans.

Even then. World without

End. Not so-many ch-ch-changes. then.

Except the cost of living.


◄ Pouring out the vitriol

Why we need to fly (for my good friend, Jacob) ►


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John Marks

Fri 1st Feb 2019 22:50

'Fraid not Martin. My spatial ability is limited - to say the least - Lowry's matchstick men seem difficult to me! John


Fri 1st Feb 2019 20:28

Ring them John!

Nice piece of writing.


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Martin Elder

Fri 1st Feb 2019 19:42

Very clever John. There are some many intriguing tales about Bowie. I think the thing I liked most about him was that he was ever changing.
Love the poem

also an intriguing painting you have posted here is it one of yours ?

Nice one

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