'Scourge' by Simon Regan
Posted by sregan | Filed under poetry
'Scourge'
In my wasteland
There is nothing but houses
And people and TVs and
Microwave Dinners and
Blackpool Illuminations.
And the only sound
Is the sound of the radio
And the sound of the fluorescent tube
Singing
In the space between
The circles of yellow light
We try and fail to understand
The things we cloak in words
Defy our analysis
And in the darkness around
Our circles of firelight
We meet the scourge
Little more than the void
That looks back at us.
And it alters our perceptions
When we hear and are told we are nothing but
A bag of nerves wrapped up in a tin
With the string that holds the heartblood in.
And it alters our perceptions
YES, it alters our perceptions
When we look up at the sky and see
Only an ozone layer
And an ionosphere
And that very, very empty space
We recognise.
- Simon Regan
