Dave SmithWhite Poems

He was an ancient hipster from the USA.
He had a dodgy smile and his hands might stray.
He was the top man on his game;
But when his secret got out it would snuff out his flame.
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Before the human flaw of war, is healed,
And all the wanton blood congealed,
Reflective man must never yield,
But pick his fight with sword to wield
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Love can make you stupid.
Love can make you blind.
When you play in the arms of Cupid,
What pleasures will you find?
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Keep that gravy train a'rolling;
Don't run it off the rail.
Keep that greasy spin extolling,
And the wind will fill our sail.
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So I've chanced my arm at action;
Formed my secret clique and faction.
Enhanced cool charm for traction,
As the rumours and myths accrete;
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Hit the road, Jack; you ain't got the knack;
All of the virtues in abundance you lack.
Hit the road, Jack, don't give me no flak;
We're both in the ordure and life is too black!
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I have seen the death of nation.
Forgotten dreams of education.
The crumbling of great expectations;
Burning books and leaves.
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Within my brain, no senses higher,
Unlock the chains of mad desire.
I take no pains but light the fire,
Of my burning love.
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I remember it as yesterday,
When I was young and strange.
Determined so to make my way,
Yet I had little range.
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The excuses, the usual suspects, like warding
Off some recalcitrant, lurking evil.
The smell, not of poverty, but of riches.
Accumulating things:
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