POEARTRY
THE ENGINE HOUSE
1. Strolling across the moors,
far,far from home,
The wind coughs violently,
It's coldness chills through flesh to bone,
Miles away in distance,
but still visible to curious eye,
A tall, dark, broken tower props
up the winter sky.
2. It begs for attention
whilst we look elsewhere,
But our inquisitive minds
will soon lead us there,
through mud, over walls,
it knows our every move,
If we are to make it before sunset,
our speed must improve.
3. As we approach our lonesome friend,
We view once what it sees allways,
Over moors, and hills, fishing
boats in distant bays,
Cars sneaking through roads,
another fading day,
Other curious tourists, making
the most of their stay.
4. Look inside this hollow dark,
as lonely and desolate
As a mad man's mind, man made, man used,
took it's heart, and left an empty shell behind,
As night colours in what remains of the day,
Nearby towns blossom into a million stars,
As we head back, confusion comes to us in
the form of many, many paths.
5. After careful thought we take a short cut across a bushy field,
As I am cut, soaked & sore, frustrations and screams are deeply concealed,
Deep inside the brush now, we see all despite these storm dark skies,
Meanwhile, repeatedly, inside my head,
David Bowie is telling lies.
6. Time and time again a different
Route we take,
To help us throught this situation,
A cool veneer I had to fake,
A wise old friend now,
The engine house became our marker
Preventing the consequences of our Predicament
becoming ever darker.
7. All along, behind the ancient one,
Lay the answer to our ongoing misery,
A pathway to warmth & light, away from
This land so harsh and full of agony,
Just 3 deserted engine houses,
An outcome of our possible demise,
Wrapped up now in warmth & safety,
No longer do I hear Bowie's lies.