yellow teeth

They are trapped
somewhere outside;
silently pressed between others in anonymity
suffocating in unwarranted suppression.

They are trapped
yellow teeth with power of fangs
to tear through thought
ripping and cajoling uncomfortable ideas.

They are trapped
by casual throw and subtle collapse
ideals pinned to dead spiders and rotting leaves
preventing 6pm hopscotch and dustbin jinks.

They are trapped
in 60's red with three and a tanner looks
merseyful sounds rioting for exposure
beneath left luggage dereliction.

And then today
an upstart child, a shiny relation
letterbox squeaked then shrieked for touch.
The captive nods release as words noisily escape.


Since a post last week, I've been trying to find the 'The Mersey Sound' poetry book stashed somewhere in the garage. Eventually I gave up but then today a little envelope containing a silver covered copy arrived. Above is my minor attempt to emulate some of the great words.

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