Poets Turmoil No 364 - Anne Clark

Keep me back in the real world

From which we try to run

Music and words don’t mean anything

Through the barrel of a gun

A poem cannot heal a wound

Books won’t help you find

That something which you’re searching for

But just add questions to the mind

Tell me now in black and white

What you’re supposed to do When fists and knives and sticks and boots

Come raining down on you

A painted picture on a wall

Can’t justify a life

When the weak and poor cannot escape

Their uglinessand strife

The actor in a bridge of words

Leading us to nowhere

Dressed in costumes to disguise

The reality of despair

The poets turmoil strikes again

As once more words they fail me Another bomb has just supplied

The cross on which to nail me.