"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

 – Henry David Thoreau

Hell

In Dante’s Inferno, when trying to describe
the houses of Hell’s lamentations 
the torments, the trials, laid quick to ascribe
amidst the curses and blessings of nations

Where were we?

What was it? Where were we? Yesterday? that made me stay away,
reined me in, stopped me calling, not that you could hear me,
know me, have told me, to scold me, for forgetting, there was much to do,
I told myself , held from myself, firm in thinking,

Why would you want to be old?

My days are numbered I know that well
it is why I’m stuck here in this living hell
the biscuits stale, the tinkle of tea
and the nurses told not to bother with me

We’re not to blame

It’s not our fault, we’re not to blame
we’re just trying to maintain our freedom
we mine our dark materials, this is not a game
because there are other poor people who need ‘em

One day closer every day

Sheep droop jaw and hooves split in the stumble for the hay,
eager teeth picking at the stubble and the crust
Knees buckle their hollow humble eyes stare down and absorb
what was mud is now unsullied deep red dust

The sweet sweet sound

There’s a sweet sweet sound moving across the settled ground
it whispers in my ear in the morning
like a solitary breeze that whistles through the trees
and summons all the birds to cease their yawning

What are we made of?

What are we made of? asks the child who cries
who just wants a toy she can play with
or to ask most politely before she dies
“is there someone out there I can stay with.”

A place to breathe

My, what a lovely place you have, you must be very proud
I love your modern furniture and the space that you’ve allowed
the kitchen is so stylish, are these appliances new?
I’d love one of those in our place, I bet it cost a few

The lifestyle you ordered

The lifestyle you ordered is currently out of stock
our warehouse has been stripped of supplies
our people are working around the clock
to ensure you get your hands on the prize

I remembered yesterday

I remembered yesterday the times that I have with you
And visions of the grateful days and all that I have wished for you
I’d stand out in the wind and cold and meet you in the rain
and offer no patronising words to beat us up or take away our pain

One day

There’s a ghost selling memories down by the shore
as a jury decides its fate
there’s a man of religion knocking at my door
I need to lie down, he can wait.