That Glitters Is Not

I found gold dust
in my pockets –
stolen coins
had spoiled to grit –
I was hung
for theft and bullying –
my life was spent –
worth less

Our weights were split
by lawyers
with their pounds
of flesh quick cut
You blew
your half-hard fallacies
and grinned
with every slap

Mike Bell Poetry

Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By then he should be about 85 years old and have out-gunned PD, dementia, and the end of days. Possibly. Before the floods and fires. Mike Bell is found working for money as a freelance set designer.

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