Walking with the birds

They say ‘Don’t look down’,
but when you’re standing on the edge
with no one around, there’s nowhere else
apart from there, where everyone else
can stand and stare, pointing

Some say from here, they’re like ants
but they’re unaware, how this feels
a God with his audience, poised,
waiting, on every word,
watching, each muscle twitch

They’re infected by life, afraid
to take a step, they think
it’s the safe side, normal,
maybe, that’s why the birds fly away,
as if no one else knows…

They’ll say he was surely this
and that and why, but death
is down there, the streets
addressed with their filth
all leading home, eventually
to play the charades, forced
to listen day after day, same
sane, essential truths
as they bury you alive, in their lies

‘Your luck’ll change’, and yet
living proof, as the dice roll wrong again
Lady Luck, the comedienne
‘Work hard, play hard’
watching, your life drift, always upstream,
and off course
‘Cherish, have and to hold’
until they find someone else
to scratch their itch
, but never in your face, no
much more subtle, and
‘No one cares about colour’
the only one that’s true, truly
no one cares, not even her…

‘Buy on the never-never’
until repossessed, getting
ten cents a dollar, if only
you could buy that cheap
‘Believe and you shall be free’
I kneeled, I prayed, only
to be chained to the wheel, circles
ever decreasing, until they nail you down
in that box, prepaid, where now she lies
your innocence, after the final lie,
‘She’ll be fine’….

They’ll say…but I don’t care,
I’m not trying to die, just breathe
I’m just talking a walk, up here,
where the air is fresher,
walking with the birds
…one small breath is all I need

If you are affected by this subject or would like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

By cyncoed

Old & Welsh

5 replies on “Walking with the birds”

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