Asphyxiation

Entrapped,
not within an empty matchbox,
not within a dungeon
in a castle with a moat,
not within an anchorite cell whose door
has been sealed by a Luciferian foe,
not in an attic with the shadows of lunatics
long imprisoned by a usurping lord,
not within a hole
dug for a corpse
but within a concept,
bred by a culture that nauseates,
asphyxiates, 
appalls.


Menace

The menace of losing my home
looms.
I’m sixty years old whose youth
had flown,
whose health is beginning to feel 
morose,
whose grip on life is loosening,
is loose.

I should have suspected where I trusted,
I’m bruised.

My back, like trees, is marked,
not by circles,
but by stabs
that measure the breadth and depth of a life
ravaged by all sorts of treacheries.

I thought my sixties would bring respite
from toil and strife,
a humble hearth, 
with home-made meals
and an ageing dog,
a tranquil phase
before the everlasting repose,
I was wrong.

John and Elvis Are Dead

John Lennon and Elvis Presley are dead
and George Michael followed in their trail.
I think that artists should be spared  
such tragic exits.

John and Robert Kennedy were shot in the head.
Martin Luther King Jr had met with a similar fate.
I think that pacifists and thinkers should be spared 
the hunter’s bullet.

Mary, Queen of Scots was beheaded
by her cousin, the niece of King Henry the eighth
though both had royal blood in their veins!
 
Jesus Christ was crucified with a couple of thieves
for having declared his genuine kingship.
I think that the quest for the Holy Grail
will last until the end of days.

I would have liked to tell the departed nightingale
that Jesus is alive and well
and none is dead
because they continue living in our heads.