poetry, trails of thought

UB40 / CB40

And I once lived a life of such youthful poverty:

A life where bewonderment was prohibited.

And it ain’t the dosh,

And it ain’t the cost,

And it ain’t the loss that really guts my guys.

Those ropes that once tied me to you in bonds

Of extraordinary thought,

Which lie frayed now and tearing like tears 

So down my face:

So much we have sought and loosened mad and 

Foolishly;

So much we have bought and questioned 

Not at all;

So much of this long haul: how it’s savaged 

Both our sides.

Time surely now to make real 

Amends.

Time to look to a future 

Of culture and suture.

Time to look to a repairing 

And reappearing.

Time simply to express this grand sorrow 

You must share with me.

And then – wow!

Redress the insane, where the holes unfixed 

Remain.

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