Hard Times has carved

its lines across my face,

like ancient Martians

cutting canals

thru the red rock.

Laughter too has etched its grooves.

O, who’d have ever thought

my flesh would turn to stone,

my lips ledges for pidgeons to roost?

Like some colossal, stoic statue

commemorating outdated civic-virtues.


I should have a plinth

on which to stand

like some bronze Columbus

arm outstretched forever towards

some undiscovered land.


Yes I should stand in some

forgotten corner of a park

beneath the shade of mighty Moreton Figs.

A benign sentinel watching over

the wooden benches by my feet,

with their cargo of courting lovers,

innocent and sweet.




The Total war review has been delayed a week as the reverends gout is acting up.


The Reverend Hellfire is a practising Performance Poet and a pillar of his community ever since he was turned to salt.



~ by reverendhellfire on March 20, 2011.

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