The Maze

There are no easy paths today it seems
No simple way to realise our dreams
It's hoola hoops
Or spinning plates
Or tightrope walks
Or twists of fate
Which permeate and punctuate life's themes.

I'll be no Saint no matter how I try
There'll be no pound nor penny for the guy.
No Spiderman
No Tonka Toy
No Duracell
No Rover's Roy
My closet skeleton filled till I die.

There are no simple answers take my word,
No master plan to make life less absurd.
It's bullet holes
banana skins,
Reporting stolen wheelie bins,
The arctic melt,
The fiscal freeze
There's fighting wars
more than disease
Mad millions spent on football stars
And even more on reaching Mars
When all around confusion rules
From Parliament to Primary Schools
The Rubic Cube that we call life
Like beef under the butcher's knife
Like Jack and Jill without a hill
I'll stop
But I could go on still
I'll make this point
Oh yes I will.
There are no simple answers and
I've had my fill.

Except...
We're born
We die
We laugh
We cry
We work the day
We sleep the night
We bleed the same
We need the same
We share one Earth
In depth and girth
In all its heights
For all it's worth.
We cultivate
Enumerate
Articulate
And seperate
Depreciate
Then delegate
And finally we relegate
In an attempt to elevate
Enslaved by that which we create.
Then procreate to populate
the mass that we inebriate.
The map is lost
No buried treasure can be found
In any measure.
Can't be found in sensual pleasure
Not in richness nor in leisure.
Pieces missing from the jigsaw.
What we get we always want more.
Seeking that perpetual open door.

There are no easy paths
Of that I'm sure.



Works of Peace the Poet