Saturday, 31 August 2013

Bus note 69

        City Road.
        Dudley Road.
White can't quite trust
African's directions.
        She steps off
        to look about
        for paler guide.
Icknield Port Road.
        Outside one house
        hang heavy
        headed roses.
From nextdoor's window
Jesus stares out
not smiling.


  1. Transported into the scene by he magic of your crafted words. Everything is so true, feels so real, like happening right now down the street. So I stare out to check what's going on. Smiling a bit more than Jesus.

  2. But then -- back in the day -- was our lad Jesus Himself not -- well perhaps not so evil as white but -- a bit bent -- the truth innit?

    Where to turn for a direction one may trust in such a time.

  3. Thank you, Marie and Tom,

    That Jesus - must be something to do with them skirts he went about in.

    If just one soul could show us the way home...

  4. It's hard to know where to put those worries, that they might do someone some good... somehow.

    In our decade off from civilization, "over the hill" was a phrase used to denote the dread necessary trips into the Dread Necessity.

    And about Jesus -- Yes, but that's just the hem of the garment.

    Now the full truth can be told.

    But no, not about the WMDs hid in her knickers.

    Jesus Is a Rochdale Girl.

  5. It's ok. Jesus can take it. In times like these, minor sacrilege, a mere petty misdemeanour.

    So long as he isn't in the bowling shoes.