Tom Higgins Poems

Smelly people in the queue,
Wafting B O from each shoe,
And from their bodies, both unwashed,
Then to cap it all, both are sloshed,
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We look up in wonder at the stars,
We ponder on there being life on Mars,
And so we've sent a craft to see,
A marvellous thing called 'Curiosity'.
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This God you keep trying to ram down my throat,
Where was he when the iceberg sank the boat?
And through thousands of years of history,
Never once was there anything that he,
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Please do not speak to me of God's love,
And divine guidance from your friend above,
Until you've walked in the young men's shoes,
Whose lives were taken on the ten o'clock news,
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A flock of American vultures,
Circles high in a British sky,
Looking down on the once mighty beast below,
Waiting for it to die.
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Who did any writer ever save?
When did words raise anyone from the grave?
Has the great mind, ever by writing,
Put an end to war and fighting?
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This physical shell, the manifestation of me,
Is it simply what it seems to be?
Am I merely as I look?
Or is this vision of me often mistook?
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Those out there who wish to die,
To meet your imaginary friend in the sky,
Please think about the deed you plan,
To kill and maim your fellow man,
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Big bang happened, time began,
Now here we are, the sons of man,
Discussing whether a supreme being,
Of such might and wisdom all seeing,
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When I was a little boy I would treasure,
A cardboard box, in which to play,
The simplest of things provided such pleasure,
And would keep me happy all day.
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