Thursday, 21 January 2010


Walking the streets
are haggard children:
far too torn and ragged
a picture of youth;

feet hard with miles
of incessant walking -
like somnambulants endlessly
walking through infinite deserts.

Their eyes are broken,
but somehow still full of
the colour of youth.

Their faces are beautiful,
and yet tell of a struggle
that's been wreaked
since time's conception.

They sell anything they can find;
steal anything they can find -
just to buy lentils and rice
and keep clothed and dry.

Sewerage lines overflow
into the streets,
and children
bathe in the water.

All's not well in Mumbai,
or Detroit, or Flint,
or Wigan, or Bristol,
or Beijing, or Ulan Bator;
all is not well.

Your whitener,
and your methamphetamine,
and your presciption pills,
and Valium and Zantac and Vicodin;
all is not well.

It's part of a culture
that we're creating,
but which we'll never know;
it carries on like some shoddily written tragedy
shown in a broken theatre;
God bless the world.


  1. Robert,

    I will make every effort, Friday or Saturday, when I expect to be what I laughingly call sober, to dig into the poem you recommended I look at. I wasn't just blowing you off, my new friend, by claiming I don't know to 'get' into poetry. Though I've had a pretty good education and have known lots of poets, I never really could converse, say, at a gathering or a party, about their works. I'm, actually, very reserved, and much prefer to listen. You asked if I was ill; and I am: alcoholism and bipolar disorder. When I was contemplating shutting down the blog, I was also contemplating suicide. At any rate, I plan to take a legal pad and write out your poem twenty times. Perhaps, this will give me some insight. I'll get back to you.....old pajamas

  2. Robert,

    Noting that you are interested in song writing,
    I ask you to scroll through my blog to find the lyrics for 'hey, murder' and tell me what you think. It's the only lyric I've written: I can hear it in my head, but not being a musician, I can't put it to music. Thank you.....old pajamas

  3. Wow.... I'm not sure what to say. I guess a 'thanks' is in order - maybe several. Yes - I'll take a look at it. Writing music is a cross between vanity/self-assuredness and absolute trust in yourself. Firstly, you have to not care what others might think, then you have to put the entirety of your being into the process.