Old man creeps in the streets in the puddles

Holds down the need to speak of his troubles

Both hands shake with the Parkinson’s

that is starting to break him.

Darkening sun sets over the streetlights - a night with no stars in 

one shadowy figure steps into a doorway

where the whores play the same games as always.

the old man’s seen it all before,
he could tell you some morbid stories 

He’s been through four wars and one divorce, 

Carries a twitch that he got from the Blitz 

he’s had a lifelong lover lost to the void

he’s seen his brothers destroyed 

by the tick tock Bang Bang of reality 
…
just another picture to hang in the gallery.



You need to reach out

Into the darkness 

Before it reaches you.



Old man sits on train as it rumbles 

Over land soaked in rain and struggle 
…
the motion of it shakes his brain in a muddle

like Boggle dice contained in a bubble. 

Man stops at stops in his pub crawl

in villages, on grubby stools. 

He grins and orders in house double 
no rocks in it-
got to sort out his own rubble 

His mind is full of mumbles:
a jar full of colour 
in among bubblegum fools 

None of these suckers get him. Numbness sets in 
Turns his stride to a stumble, 

Tripping over his feet, back to the train 

Rain seeps through cracks in the pane 

Window frames him: Too old a man for a salary 
…
just another picture to hang in the gallery.



You need to reach out

Into the darkness 

Before it reaches you.