Email: The Editor

The Impurity of White


...And in amongst the deepest thorny bush,
The rose
Of finest white.
Her Glory to perceive!

Sometimes I seem a friend to you,
At others, a tiresome trouble
To be cast aside,
Lest my clodhopping feet
Stamp on the fun,
Your focus... elsewhere.

Cocaine! That sweet substance
Of the bitterness of a thousand shattered dreams
And inducer of blindness amongst the sighted,
How dare you afflict
We, who see, but never touch?

Forgive me.
For I grow weary of being the Jester
At the Court of clowns and fools.

By Robert L Thompsett