Keep Going


You dragged yourself through last week and now it’s starting all over again,
It’s another Monday and you wake to your alarm’s incessant cry of pain.
You vaguely recall another weekend that flew by much too fast,
So you force yourself out of bed when your brain is begging you to crash.
Stumbling around your flat in the gloom and cold,
Your body complaining of aches and pains, you feel prematurely old.
Slumped in your untidy kitchen you eat your toast alone,
As you summon up the will to get up and leave your home.
Setting off to the bus dragging your feet,
Kicking at the dead leaves clogging the street.
The wind is like an icy fist punching you in the face,
You feel like a conscientious objector to the human race.
Hoping if you make it to the end of the week they’ll be a solution
Then maybe, just maybe to your problems they’ll be some resolution.
But buried deep within you is the thought that this isn’t true,
This will yet again be just another week of surviving as you.
And the only real goal for which you feel you should strive,
Is trying to make it to the end of another week alive.

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Lurking on the Back Row of Life


back-seat-of-the-bus

At school I always sat in the back row,
Ground down by their pointless rules.
Egged on by friend’s laughter
I easily learned to play the fool.

When forced on Sundays to attend church
At the back I’d yawn the service away.
Lounging in a pew, uncaring
My atheism defiantly on display.

On a bus I’d favour the back seat,
Stuffed full of chips and beer.
I’d lustily sing or craftily smoke
And at disapprovers sneer.

Now I lurk at the back out of habit
Full of gripes and moans.
Unable to move to the front at all
Hiding there my natural home.