Treasure Island

Jerry Pike

(Harrow, London, England)

A Life In The Day


A Life In The Day

Up before the pride sets in, darkness crawls and twists,
devils of the mind erupt, bind you by the wrists.
Feed them in the dead of night, watch the road, for life,
hum a song you’ve never heard, yet craft it with a knife.

Speak them human, bow their space, treat as crown and King,
multiply each passing fear, then let the mountains sing.
Try to keep what’s sane pretence, locked within your head,
argue sanity’s not real, fight for living’s thread.

Count those numbers, four, three, two, once upon a time,
Cinderella to the ball, staking out her crime,
all this place for fairy tales, whipped behind, back then,
wonder what inspires you now, cats and wine, not men.

Victim for a daytime scam, smile and wait and smile,
not quite sure the tanner’s dropped, on a crooked stile.
Normality is packed away, boxed inside the trap,
write what’s left of yesterday, somewhere on a scrap.

Losing to a silent thief, with no jesters bell,
beggaring won’t bring belief, ring the chimes for hell,
stroll out for a respite shop, drag some real world home,
teatime from a plastic bag, bolt, indoors alone.

Struggle keeping smart and neat, lost behind a mask,
placed there by a comic gene, laughing till the last,
tears spill out, dementia snarls, to wear your coat of pain,
it’s hard to be an angel, when you’re soaking through with rain.

Submitted: Sunday, February 18, 2007
Edited: Thursday, January 20, 2011

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  • Philip Housiaux (4/18/2008 7:30:00 AM)

    Yes I must also use the word brilliant. The hints of the aging derelict with the bitter ironic observations that he/she makes on life and his situation all very accessible and yet intensely felt. thanks (Report) Reply

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