Flown scheduled on Concorde and ‘touched’ the
stars
Now walking in subways, beneath the cars.
From speeches made in the Albert Hall,
To mooching around the shopping mall
In a dead man’s shoes from a charity store...
Guessing he didn’t
need them anymore.
And from dining with
Presidents and leaders of state
To ‘Socially
Excluded’, maybe even a figure of hate.
Yet having long borne
the burdens of many upon his plate
Now himself facing an
uncertain fate.
Detached as he is now
from the City’s madding throng,
That world now
precluded-he no longer belongs.
But free to catch a
one-pound bus ride
And try to find a
place to hide
To contemplate that
perhaps inevitable suicide;
Maybe conjure a
method, a suitable way
And scribe a few last
lines to say...
But inspiration for
neither will come this day.
Soon darkness comes
and it’s time to roam,
To what now passes
for a home
An empty room to be
alone
With only old demons
in his mind to moan
And remind him that
daylight’s comfort is yet hours away
That tomorrow is –
sadly- yet another day.
Christopher J Green
(May 2011)
