richard pierce

richard pierce

25 May 2018

27 - Sculptures

The now world, the new world,
Assigns a commercial possibility
To each anniversary,
And not the precious metals of love
Forged in the flames of time.

The wood creaks under the passing of it.

The world now has faded them
In the wind beneath the fluttering banners.
The material is irrelevant,
The untouchable the real language
Of staying together.
They are still bright in my eyes.

The wood has been bleached under our feet.

Our analogue prints,
Our digital legacies,
They will all be outdated
When we’re dancing in the clouds.
Our days are history as we live them,
Before we understand them.

Calendar pages torn away too late to be real time.

I listen to your sleep every night
When my eyes won’t close.
Your breaths mark my destiny.
Without them I am too alone.
They slip through my fingers,
Those untouched hours.

Sometimes, emptiness is best.

A life-time of markers.
We forget too many of them
In the bustle of new ones.
Here, on the sofa, our hands
Meet in the middle,
A centre of gravity
For our many worlds.

For M
R, 25/05/2018

19 May 2018

today we celebrate

today we celebrate
an accident of birth
the discrimination of wealth
a country that feeds its royals but not its needy
a distorted image of love with an agenda
the gulf between the great unwashed
and those who can’t afford to wash.

today we celebrate
how hard work goes unrewarded
and laziness reaps high office
the fairy tales of ancient history
dragged along the long walk of hell
the deception of the masses by the massed media
how crowns and coronets are worth more
than dignity, integrity and honesty.

today we celebrate
centuries of unearned privilege
the parading of richness
to keep the poor at bay
behind the barriers that should be barricades
letting them smell horse shit and glamour
but only ever letting them get clear up
after those in a different caste.

today we celebrate
a divided society.

R, 19/05/2018