Wednesday, April 16, 2008


HELTER SKELTER

Shuffling the rim of the endless shore,
The holiday fun already a bore,
What are we going to do today
To fritter our empty lives away?
Here is a thrill you might enjoy,
A petulant giant's twisted toy.
They clamp you tightly on a rack
To see how soon your joints will crack;
And swing you up against the sky,
A most traditional way to die.
Horizons tilt, the clouds drop down,
And overhead is the seething town.
(But in the iron filigree something grates -
Or is it a shift of tectonic plates?)
Far off in the alien world below
Oblivious mannikins come and go:
On damp flat sands the children score
Trenches of a forgotten war;
A naked girl on a cockle shell
Drifts to the beach with the onshore swell;
And a soaring boy who had no care
Falls through the unsupportive air.
(A rivet shifts in a rusting girder.
Manslaughter is it - or is it murder?)
Over the top in the scything wind -
Oh, tell me, brother, have you sinned?
Then who is that hoodie by your side
Rapt in his bone-white-knuckle ride?
Hold on to your hat, your hair, your head.
Have fun. Have fun.
You're a long time dead.
Frederick

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