What A Degree Of Writing Poem by James Wakelin

A love a loan an empty cheque
a writers blank a quick duelling death
what eyes do they look for
a summers afternoon
all done no one owes
and was seen clearly from above
quick dueling skies inherant in its diversity
blank spaces deep hearts and a mock on my head
two irreplacable batteries and a clock watch and a stage
incoherrant abuse quickly stifles the crowd
shock mock displayed oh no not that!
Quick beetroot juice and lemons a quick draft and off
away away to you and me
so some make it to the tops look down and are free
from looking at that which is blocking our veiw
too soon to notice one other little thing
in my depths un-noticed slavic vultures corrupting the ink
as in drys through my hands
and sends shivers down my spine as I spoke words
wisdoms heiresses dimpled sugared plumped vices
incorruptable planets worlds elementary matters
so the heart dictates all
to the letters completing forms
of coherrant speech
alas dear brothers
we tried