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The Old, Not Just For Christmas

written by: SMiles



I've thought myself hungry
desired drink
wished to be warmer
craving the company of peers
but needed nothing
taken for granted expectation
basically being catered for
receiving a needs met criteria
gratitude alluding the door
never comparing plights
walking past weakened souls
who bear burdens of reality
needing games raised
socks always pulled tight
holed and richly unwarm
meekly worn at full height
whilst ivory towers surround
spilling over cups running full
brims dripping with plenty
ghosting through unsightly scenes
the smell of piss stained widows
and widowers broken by loss
flaying in waves of life's sea
crashing from rock to rock bottom
these copers survive
with held high heads
coats polished to a lustred sheen
I see nothing
bemoaning lots as insufficient
not yet engulfed by the shiny Mac
a uniformly worn
never noted but always there
drifting between blessings
a technological revolution enabler
people keeping contact open, maintained by binary
one zero one equals five
but five does not mean hello
have you eaten or drank any fill?
Is warmth with you?
Do you need a chat?



My name Is Stephen John Miles (SMiles) live in Barrow in Furness Cumbria England, I'm 53 diagnosed dyslexic at 47. Found my written voice once diagnosed and have been shouting ever since. I've a self published children's book Zac's leather elephant and a published children's book The fox the owl and the big green towel, I have a new children's book coming out later this year called Book of Zac. The books are published by Austin Macaulay. I made stories up to entertain my children all rhyming this led to the books. My break in poetry came after a friend of mine died and I wrote a poem for his funeral. Two years ago I appeared at the Bloomsbury festival in London. I write beat poems as it works well with my dyslexia. Something I feel strongly about is self expression after feeling excluded for so long. I'm not for everyone but then not everyone's for me so that makes us even.

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