Treasure Island

GRANT FRASER

(JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Cupboard Black Sky


What is the point
in sporting new clothes,
in the rain,
when you can take a friend outside,
and chuck him in a puddle,

'Now you look the part! '

One can sense a certain
madness already etching
it's way towards us...

We've never been able
to leave our bodies long enough,
to get that quintessential naked
outward eye,

Or like a space ship
orbiting the strange crust
of some unfathomable planet,

That my friend is the true human,
a contender, other than that,
a sponge on the brink of relapse,

Your hoovermatic,
instantaneous polyfilla mind,
content again, to drill into
all the fine minute holes of detail,

Here is a thought to hang up,
and here is another,
then 3 mega tons of conditional
information,

Look I picked you up,
off the ground,
cause you were all wet and dirty,

I mean you are meant for filth,
and dirt, and all things unjust,

But here - take my coat!
As for a way out,

Your on your own...

Submitted: Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, March 27, 2013

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