Reality - Poem by Ripper Jones
Their three piece suite was leather,
New, paid for in instalments.
It was shiny new, and black.
It caught one's eyes,
like a 16thc Dutch painting
Of peasants at a wedding,
Where the bride
Stood centrepiece in lethargy and bliss.
Coming through the door
The leather suite captured your eyes,
‘look at me, I am they,
And not the huge television,
Showing vistas of game shows and soap operas
This is the reality, come inside'.
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