Michael Micmac Mccrory (25/01/1954 / Belfast N, Ireland)

They were only half way to heaven
Stranded on a cloud
They were shouting and yelling
But they couldn’t have been loud
They were howling at the moon
Too softly to be heard
They could shout until doomsday noon
They’ll find out nobody cared

Not rude not bad not rotten
But they still had to go
They were the forgotten
Nobody wanted to know
They were not good enough to save
Nor bad enough to be lost
They just don’t know how to behave
So their left out in the frost

They were only half way to heaven
Stranded on a cloud
The unwanted poets
Shouting and yelling their poetry
To people who didn’t want to know
This is what unpublished poets have to do
Walk about with their heads in the clouds