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on freedom
our choices lie before usour fate determined by those availablea woman scrabbles in the streetpanicking to retrieve cardsthey are blown along the paving in the rainsome spin into a gutterno one helps herwhy would you pick up a wind thrown tarot card lying at your feet?what might it portend?passers-by choose to step carefullynot one wants →
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Why am I not?
Why am I not, what?How long have you got? Within our allotted span we have choices fewWhere we were born comes into it, true Who are our parents, where did we liveWhat was the school, all this we must sieve Then there is sex and sexualityDon’t try to deny that harsh reality Then there is →
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It’s a goal!
Holes in my socksEnd of season sale shortsA third choice shirtOf several years pastIt’s a bit of a mish-mashBut it’s only for funI’m still playing footballWhile I can still runThere’s no better gameI still pretend to be Andy ColeWhen I make some spaceAnd score one more goalIt might be my last everWho knows what fate →
Journey of Words 