Friday, 24 July 2020

NO BLADES RUSTED INTO SCABBARDS


A sombre poem this post. It came from the first line that popped into my head one morning unannounced. 

Epitaph

we will behind leave no swords

blades rusted into scabbards

no carefully considered grave goods

to make our afterlives bearable


our ending will be obvious

before they sink the first exploratory trench

a whole geological strata of near indestructible waste

of things we once thought we needed


It is very much a tell not show poem. I think at times that this is the only way to get the message over, bluntly.

Palooka 5, those giants of psych-surf have a new mini-album out. I shall be reviewing it next week, but for now here's a taste


Until next time.

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