Thursday, 10 August 2017

Fall from Grace

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)