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I tried to ring, but the sky stole the message;
And a lady lay sleeping by a tower block,
Unaware of the colourless dream of the suit wearers,
As they stiff-nosed their blinkered way
Through their fickle offices,
Built on numbers and tired yawns.

A dreamless merchant will try,
But fail to realise the meaning,
And as the sleeping lady sleeps on,
The sun begins to sink on the city.
Back in the offices the computers hum and shine
Their dull mind-melting lights long into the cold night.

Failing light falling through the
Grey clouds on a grey scene,
The cold city silently screams as


Towering office blocks block the orange night sky.
There’s no place to hide in here,
…no place to hide from here.

But still – “never more” and ever “false”
Lies the troubled news from abroad
– Of wars, of rape and death,
From far far away straight into our morning minds,

Where newspapers and radios seep across
Our breakfast tables like poisoned honey,
Spreading hysteria and worry
Like the fluttering wings of a thousand feral pigeons.

© Paul D Hegginson 2013

*****

For today’s poem, we decided to lift one out of our latest publication “Thinulations” by Paul D Hegginson, because we thought it would be a good way to show you the quality of work contained within this collection. This piece was one of our favourites out of the poems Paul sent in to us, and was a great joy to include. This is a dark piece which speaks of the impersonal and suffocating embrace of city life, which draws the reader in and holds them there. A desperate call to arms for a world going sour.

If you head on over to our publications page, you will find links to the book on Lulu and Amazon. Pic up a copy and immerse yourself in the words of this new poet. Leave your comments on this piece below.

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