Sunday, 13 November 2011

Sitting in the Park on a Liquid Lunch

Today I was sitting in the park,
 Dried up and forlorn
Just another midday–Monday-mourn

Grey and half empty,
clutching at this cold can,

The people here let their shadows lead
 And wander through

Broken, backs hunched and wistful...

Soaking their socks through their shoes
 in wretched brown puddles
Iridescent from oil 

 Their image fades and shimmers
 in this distorted reflection
 and finally withering out
 like the lasts remains of summer

A woman walks by
and catches my eye
She decides the tops of her shoes will give up no secrets today
And needs to move fast
for the chemist has her script..
She see's me
 and pulls her jumper up to her wrists
 hiding the tracks

A man in a suit follows close behind
He's in sales and is ruddy faced

With a dripping nose and a clenched jaw
He see's only himself
 and is satisfied with that...

An old man sits and rocks
Sifting through the bins
 and drinking methelayted spirits...

His eyes tell a different story though
He was a war hero once

The pushers up by the bins call him Marco Polo
And he lost his mind a long time ago

  But whats this?

A laugh punctures my gloom

.... a smile...

a toddler child

Throwing daggers at my doom
But does she not see the scornful eyes
Or the lost souls wandering aimlessly through

Or those that wait like ghost in limbo
 and wont cross the road on a red light
When there's a clear route straight through
Or perhaps this blackened sky or the death-gloomed-flowers weeping?
Or the upturned umbrellas like dead birds for reaping

How to see the world once again through a child's eyes
And to be enchanted by lies and the vastness of it all?

But for now this
 Means little.....
Who am I?
How did i get to be like this?

Where did my essence go?
And who is this listless shadow
 downing sorrows

Im once again on a liquid lunch
 sitting in this park behind my home

I’m one among many
But among many alone

No comments:

Post a Comment