Dave SmithWhite Poems

All my friends are dying.
All my friends are gone.
I am stood here crying;
How will I carry on?
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I'd checked-in, a generic hilton,
In Xanadu one day,
For a light repast of stilton,
And a comely cabernet.
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Can't live without love.
Can't love without life.
Can't earn without work,
When the virus is rife.
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When the underdogs, and the demagogues,
By fear and greed go feral.
And the fascists rule, the abiding fools,
In a time of peril.
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Are you dying, Mr. President?
Or is it all fake news?
If you're dying, and it is evident,
Will you accept it's true?
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I gave up my old car,
When it gave up me.
So I'm riding shanks' pony,
To new misery.
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There's a squawking, talking parrot on my shoulder.
There's a monkey on my back, you cannot see.
There are rabbits with bad habits, filing folders,
In a mind, defined like a blind beaurocracy.
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When you got no-one,
To go home to,
And you dread the moving walls;
An empty space, you cannot face,
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From city to country they goeth,
As they travel from town to town.
Via the internet they showeth,
They never let us down.
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The hubris on my shoulder,
Tells me I cannot lose.
I must be mighty Caesar,
For whom the gods approve.
...