Lucy’s Not In The Sky With Diamonds…

She’s In Her Basement Room With A Needle And A Spoon

Where the world is hushed and put on pause…
There is at least one homeless person
mentally battling a destitute birthday today.
Arms were not made for love nor war,
but for lifting and carrying things forward…
try it on yourself sometime.
They left ‘Anaphora’, twice, for ‘Chiasmus’
but ended up in ‘Paradox’
where she left him forever
to board an ‘Oxymoron’ bus
to nowhere and everywhere.
The day was black and white,
with intermittent greys,
until a beggar sitting outside the cathedral
smiled a mostly toothless smile,
with a childlike twinkle
to his Yves Klein blue eyes…
and vivid colour permeated the proceedings,
but, instead of gaining more pennies,
blows and insults rained down upon him.
A mischievous murder of hooded crows
audio teared the approaching twilight sky…
abandoning the countryside’s scarecrows
to swoop and mob the city’s stray alley cats…
now ostracized by the kind old ladies…
who have changed their boiled cabbage ways,
and busily crochet body bags and heavy shrouds
to cover up the ghosts of what-might-have-beens.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.