mike bell poems

We Will Get Old

We will then rue
how much time
we dead-stared
at gripping light

Takeaway in Uckfield

There were lights & sounds
late last night in our funeral
home – busy on newly dead
[quick-quick] as subfusk inks
are let awry on diary pages …/


  • by

We were not taught
how to erase –
how best to rub out –
how to remove errors –
instead – we were told to
Put a line through it


  • by

Those mob-mindful
leaders –
your haters –
your righteous orators
have raised
their volume to that
once of The Left …/


We want to be heard –
us mutterers – we discontents
who can mussitate… /


Ill-faced white people settle
and preen in that afterglow
off their stoked shit-storms
as fools refuel on Facebook… /