Stone City Poem by GRANT FRASER

I live in the Emerald
city,

no that's a lie,

I reside
in Grey skull,

and granite
is supposedly
radioactive,

which they say
does stuff
to the mind...

we got plenty
of oil,

yet loads
of poverty & crime...

I've turned to this,
to compensate for things that
went wrong for me,

but the search
for self meaning
is not a benign thing,

and whatever it is
you feel your trying to do,

like find or create,

what is there, when nothing
of it goes anywhere, or generates...

and you pulverise wall after wall,
after wall...
until there's nothing there at all,

except those who are already there,
and all knowledge is full,

and yet, everything works the same,
uncanny?

blood orange sunsets, tiger socks,
half sucked ice cubes,

and if the door is locked,
then it is most certainly -

a space, where only fine
carpets are placed,

and a little of that,
could be true...

Nah! I wasn't born for that,
but meant to go down
like the rest,
hand firm on my breast - I swear!

allegiance...

to something more arcane or ancient,
some kind of poor origin...flavour,

like the taste of living,

is this my own tongue or what...