Badge. Pic for poem


the suggestion of savage power

displayed by exaggerated exhaust pipes

stare with mute threat

from behind the car, which

swathed in dull,  matt grey paintwork

is perhaps all you would ever need to know

about the man who drives it

but on the other hand

he may be a poet with a soft spot

for the uncouth. A devil’s advocate

for difference

I am trying to be more reasonable

behind my privacy glass and rose-tinted


as time takes it’s inexorable toll

leaving me, not quite stalled

on the broad highway of  a personal history

that sways in the wind of change, nay progress,

and  become mindful that tolerance

could be my best defence against

a creeping spiritual

rigor mortis

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