Treasure Island

GRANT FRASER

(JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Another Stab At The Light


Some are good,
others bad,
plenty not what
they could've been,

Look back over
your shoulders
at the boulders
that man has
shaped and created,

I wish I knew
where I was going,
I really do?

I'm so scared of dying
of emptiness,
want to die more full -
i suppose,

Overfull, stuffed to the gills,
with something more than real,

The world media
and it's fascination
with itself,
is so overhwhelming,

As if it needs what it plants
in our minds to live,

Shaping all desires, that is...

My own anger is not to be
holed up for the rest of
this waking death,

They must be looking for an
end to it,
oh! well - just do it!

So long as they know how
truly boring the whole thing is,

And that there's something more,

One hopes, and that it changes
the present tide,
of walking corpses,

Shuffling along dusty
dirty pavements of no joy...

Submitted: Saturday, April 20, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 02, 2013
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