The Crumbling

It feels like the structure
Of my life
Is crumbling rapidly
I’m beset with strife

Like the city of Venice
I’m on precarious ground
Gradually rotting and sinking
Into the abyss that surrounds

It feels like the foundations
I have built
Have been swept away
As my entire world tilts

On its axis
The end of days
All I can do
Is hope and pray

The fire in my belly
Almost extinguished
No sense of purpose
I simply languish

It was never meant to be this way
I look upon my choices with dismay
I thought I was following my own true bliss
It was never meant to turn out like this

How do I get out
Of this stinking quagmire?
I want to scream and shout
But I’m silenced because I can’t get myself into gear

I’m at a crossroads
But it’s not signposted
I don’t know which way to go
And I am tormented, like a hostage

I had big plans
I had major dreams
But they lie in tatters
I’ve come undone at the seams

Oh, dear God!
Let not this last!
Don’t let this be the end of me!
I entreat you – rescue me fast!


A new pandemic

Is taking hold

The world’s gone beserk

Over Sourdough

An epidemic

Of tart tasting bread

You need a sledgehammer to slice

Being served it I dread

It’s chewy, it’s nasty

It tastes like turd

So heavy and dense

This obsession is absurd

And yet it’s everywhere

In every bakery and cafe

It’s very invention

Is a cause for dismay

No wonder they’ve named it

‘Sour’ / ‘dough’

You need wads of the latter to buy it

And may feel bitter if you don’t

Like a status symbol

It reeks of affluence

Accompanied with smashed avocado

Eating it suggests a gentrified stance

A plague du pain

A pain in the butt

I’m sorry if this irks you

But I cannot stand the stuff!

Fine, you may say,

Do not partake

If it was that simple

For sure another bread would I break!

But try finding granary

Or whole meal or soda

In a city besieged

With this poncy interloper

I’ve scoured every store

In the vicinity

For an alternative loaf

To no avail – what a liberty!

So I was forced to purchase

A slender baguette

Funded by taking out a second mortgage

Which of course I lived to regret

Not only did my knife

Warp, then falter and break

When I tried to cut it –

By morning it was stale!

So it went in the bin

And I went without toast

To eat with my homemade soup

What an utter joke!

Bread should surely be squidgy

Springy, buoyant and yum

Sweet yet savoury and moreish

And not cost an extortionate sum!

And what happened to having choices

As to what variety you can buy?

Why must we all conform

To the latest food fad that passes by?

Not everyone’s bloody tastebuds

Are exactly the same

Not everyone’s a slave to fashion

So please would you kindly refrain

From saturating the shops

And eateries with this crust

It’s like chomping on a piece chipbaord

And I refuse to bow down to this cult.

The Sacred Scattering

To Avalon she came
After providence made sure she did
The stars aligned again
On such a time as this

Four days before it began
Just in time apparently it seems
On a Monday in early April
A pilgrimage now she had the means

She came to put him to rest
And cleanse his earthly form
After it was purified by fire
She brought him to her spiritual home

Forgiveness was asked of her
And forgiveness did she give
She prayed that in his passing
His essence was free to live

She cleansed him and she purged
She made sure he was not alone
She took him to consecrated ground
And set him adrift in a fitting abode

They parted ways in the physical sense
But in her heart he doth go on
There was also time for recompense
And releasing and letting go

And then she took solitude
In her ‘sanctuary’
To process the day’s events
And engage in reverie

In the holiest of places
Where her Godly family reside
Due soon to descend to this earthly plane
To take Supper for the Last time.