We drug the mind so we can float through cloud,
Or stumble through the fog which is the same.
It slows us down, it makes the voice less loud
That tolls the tasks needed to feed on fame
And fortune: those same things that never came
When we were drunk and dreamy all those years.
And since we know there’s no-one else to blame
We drug ourselves again against the spears
Of sharp self-recrimination that pierce
These lightweight dream-bubbles that fly so proud
And balloon-like, each one borne by a flame
Flickering in the full face of the fierce
West wind, gusting and blowing back this crowd
Of dusty old delusions, stained with guilt and shame.
Mon 5 Feb 2007
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