Hanover poem


Rapped in rolls of paper confetti falling on heads of weds newly anointed in samish brick building facilities with babies new and children nurseried and close carried next to heart safely slung over the shoulder whilst holsters held round waists carry building tools and hammers to protect the houses.

Cars munched at every corner and ticketed frequently for improper behaviour arrested to keep jobs open and funds largeness entitling all to parking permission near the bank to pay the bills to park readily stamped and addressed to the postmen of actual misery

Packed into boxes and parked downward into the warm embracing earth to rot with worms and leaves and decaying interest as memoirs are written of outrageous artefacts and stories of crazy playtime and eventual pastime.

Steep incline never used to getting up after a hard days time spent getting down the hill to rush back up thinking that our own time is our only time just to find that the time is the universe that we are parting from eventually but never if we work out our stream of energy and impact

Bathing housed into flats of comfort where working men spent their pub time washed out and dreaming of days where they may live as the lords who paid them lived.

Academic war-lording world changing young guns pulling pints to pieces and decibels to crush the sleeping babies and parents colour changing hair falling from their heads as they surmount impossible charges on their time and incoming outgoing structured plans with career minded absurdity.

Pushing grunting puffing on pedals to reach a summit of succession to rest with tea and crumpets in the park of tree giving swinging splendour with ducks a quacking the pigeon gulled haven of wicker driven retiring vegetation.


January 9th 2014

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