A birthing

The grime covers him

not unlike a new skin.

Wet, slithering around him

as snakes of mud leave their trials

like tasteless tattoos

smearing over each other, all design

lost.

He dives into a pool,

drips new dew

beneath the empty water

captured by weeds, freed and

baptised into unsung silence. A waiting swimmer,

bursting for breath

he dives unmarred back into the air.

What were you doing when The Wall came down?

The Old Bean and I played chess when the
Berlin Wall fell down.
I won that day - he was not thinking-
as the unexpected celebrations reigned
the piece in his hand hovering
as the TV took his attention away.
I took his Queen! And he unexpectedly resigned.
The pictures reflected in his glasses, so absorbed as if he
has suddenly found the hope he lacked.

I skinned up for him and smoked it all myself then
went out and looted a tin of Whiskas
before my afternoon nap that happy day when
the Berlin Wall crumpled.

I played Pink Floyd,
resigned knowing our petty wars
remained'
I went to play another game the day I beat The Old Bean at chess.