don’t let the nasty bastards win

~

( poem a )


quite often i am lost

here within my home village

which i've lived in on & off

yes - for most of my days


the street names don't change but

my mind it has been pillaged

plus the gossips & new builds

only add to this maze


yet well i know the fields

fit for grazing or tillage

old woodland, well-trod footpaths

aye - the lay of this land


so i climb up them hills

that rise above said village

it's puzzles & bullshit

which i'll never understand

( thank fuck )

...




































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