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Poetry
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| Wanderer | |
| By JakeWilding | ||||||||||
| 21 June 2007 | ||||||||||
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This is a remake, as it were of another poem called The Wanderer, by whom i can't remember right now, but will try and find out. I have varied it and put my own mark on it. But I cannot afford to go.
What I cannot afford is not to know
Is the smell of the south sea breeze. I am trapped in the security of routine, Constantly getting mift At doing the 9-5 shift, Reading other peoples news in the canteen. What do I really need? A few pieces of food each day, Heat, shelter, water & come what may A sense of accomplishment That is all I really need? I have been brainwashed by society ‘Till I end up in a tomb. But to give myself no chance to assume That I’ve got here through idiocy. The years thunder by, my dreams growing dimmer Before I realize the tomb is sealed Will then my conscience be healed? Or will all you hear be my silent whimper? The choice to my life rests in my hands only, Is it bankruptcy of purse? Or shall it be bankruptcy of life? Because I am the wanderer.
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