Big Red Poem by GRANT FRASER

My God Grant your
face looks so red....

yeah! I know I was
born in the inferno,
and I'm just making
my way further down,
slow as I possibly can...

'is it sore, it's nothing
to do with drinking...? ',

everything is sore, even
opening the front door,

why, what?

ye know without fully
knowing...

why they open and shut,
off course,
besides it's just a sign
of the times,

to be punctual, and feel
counted, and not worry
that one big day
you will not be undermined
then overtaken...

you see the red
appears by magic!
and the mask I suppose
is flaking off,
on it's own accord,
for the act is almost over...

no I'm not going to touch
it, but ye know...

your busy bodies
and marketing ploys,
are all coming together,
And Dixon's
old lady with the big dock,
who I suspect wears
'Chanel clothing',
when she's doing
the red T.V.,
has to get
that big share,
cause she's an important
financial lady...

besides my Bosses face is
probably worse than mine,
so much I wouldn't
be surprised if he's head down
sometimes in a big jug of wine...
what with all the changes...

all I can say Grant, it's so Red!

I know, I put the steroid stuff on,
the oatmeal cream, I got it all!
in the early hours I just glow,
then I go to work,
and some stoop or stop in their
tracks,

and there's usually somebody
going to mention it,
but ye know that's what they're
accustomed to,
it's just eczema, and they say,
it's not half as bad as
'flaky', had it, when he
worked here...

why thanks...you just can't tell,
and the colour,
well I rarely get
that angry...