Cave painting

I stand here,

hand on a book,

the accused accuser giving witness

to my unrequited feeling.

In the cave painting

picture of my life

A failed caveman,

that never could inspire fire.

A wheel salesman

Before wheels were a thing,

and I never could

get my head around clubbing.

 

I stand here.

The crowd peer

Inwardly, as I bare out my time.

A writer without a pen of flame.

Just a chisel and some stone tablet,

to express my thoughts,

hopes and name.

Giving voice to the stars

etched upon those granite placards

to hear them sing of loves true name.

 

I stand here accused,

but never informed what for.

Which law I've broken, I'm not sure,

number 3 or 4?

Whichever will leave me

locked behind a door.

I try to stay informed,

share love without cause,

But I'll never conform to a bunch

of corporate whores. 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle