Owain Glyn Poems
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Men In Grey Suits
There are men in grey suits who infest sand built towers,
Where they sit and they spit out their venom for hours,
Making judgments and plans which they say we must follow,
Leaving them to get fat in the shit that they wallow.
The Bishops and Priests and their dumb acolytes,
Spew out sermons and edicts and meaningless rites,
Whilst abusing the young that are left in their care,
They preach God's holy goodness in which we can share.
There are Judges, who sit, every day, upon high,
Peering down on the wicked they're placed there to try,
With their ...
Never Go Back
I crept along the silent streets, their familiarity painful and accusing.
Even in this darkness the sick worm of cowardice drives me to the shadows.
I know each brick, each door, each window pane,
We huddled in these doorways, to touch, to kiss, and to escape the rain.
The filthy soot-smeared streetlights search me out, to interrogate me, each in turn,
What are you doing here? Why have you come back? What do you want?
I know these pavements, each and every crack,
We trod them in our