Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

Oiling the door


Oiling the Door

The padlock is rusty from years of no
Use
Cobwebs hang in the corners
The paint is peeling No charm
Left

Scorched and baked to the naked wood
As you gaze you have a sense of years of
Decrepitude
Having traveled within the infinitely of
Time

Boss bee’n away for quite a’ time
‘Course I’m older now Paid anyway
Spick and span everyt’in has to be Polished like
Brand new pin

The padlock sawn A mangled mess
Jangs
Keys stiff in the lock

Ea’se each slowly now Don’ rush
Plen’ty of time to get it
Right

The keys ‘ll snap Teeth stuck in the lock

No breekin’ t’e door down
Won’t like
That

The door on a shove opens only a
Crack
Dark inside Black as the night
Musty

The smell grips the nostrils
Dogs’ teeth clamping on the hand
That tried to
Pat

No mould That component of
The olfactory potion is
Missing

Than’ God for tha’t
His Lordship
No
Ther’d be hell to pay for
Tha’t
I’ll close th’  do’er

The door squeals in pain
Like a cat with a
Rat

Burma mak’s a bloody goo’d oil
I’ll give tha’t ‘Bout
Done

***

Lea’ve no’w Due in an
Hour
He’ll be pleased sure
‘Nough

Stand back A foot or two
Admire
More sheen than shine
The glory of the new

A’  I thi’n he’ll be
Please’d
Good ma’  the
Duke
Kwo’n ‘m sin’ a boy

Trim
Stiff upright Hair
Pomaded
Insignia on the chest Wears that
When he’s in
Town

This not a door, though, to house or abode
But one
That
Opens to the soul

Malcolm D B Munro
Wednesday 30 May, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shre

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under: Arts, Music, poetry, songs, stories

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