My Own Best Friend

by | Sep 20, 2018 | Poems

Stooping down and listless still
the rain, the pavement scarried
the men they took my food and oil
and all that I had carried

They robbed me with a fountain pen
they left me in the rain
they said they’d come back God knows when
just to add more to my pain

I pushed my umbrella into the hail
I watched it rip and tear
onlookers sneered as they saw me fail
sideways with a glare

I begged for bread with steely eyes
my plate I wiped it clean
“the Government” they said “is telling lies”
it’s always ever been

My friends I found them, some up, some down
in rooms of soft fine leather
but I had business back in town
and stepped out into the weather

I know I’m welcome any time
to share the common bread
where fault is lost for any crime
‘cept what’s on in my head

If I could realise just one thing
that all is not at end
I have a verse, a song to sing
I am my own best friend

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Kia Ora. Sorry for the interruption but if you type your name and email address in the fields provided you'll receive my latest brain tumour scribblings as soon as they roll off the press, so to speak. What could be better, other than good coffee in the morning, comfortable non-slip gumboots, peace in the Middle East, having politicians who don't govern out of self-interest and a cure for all types of diseases, including, but by no means limited to, brain cancer.

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