By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

In that moment
when your cup tips

you will sip
on emptiness

It is already too easy
to taste nothing –

too easy by delineation –
another failure

but a profitable design –
a greedy manipulation

We pass tipping points
as lost time is re-defined

by low mutterings
about our obvious losses

but still not openly
noted –

not tabloid-known –
Still unseen less stuff

Enter no payments
against overdue bills

Forget out-of-print
backorders sought online

Dismiss forthwith
learning other languages

Possibly embrace
Morse Code’s flat voice

Forget your mortgage
and overseas trips

Come with me under
a protective stairway

Pray – It is now too close
to that fearful time

of no refills or top-ups
Old bombs will drop

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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