THE GARDEN WALL.

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The Garden Wall.

The Garden Wall has a story to tell.
STOP! And listen
before you pass by.

Go to bed in the park.
Be afraid of the dark.
Take a spade and a fork.
Some bread and cold pork,
with plenty of tea in a flask.

When the Moon throws a shadow
across the forked bough,
start to dig at the base of the light.

Dig and dig.
Sweat like a Pig.
Like the one you have with your bread.
But keep your eye open for 'Nick',
or just like your Pig,
you'll be Dead!

Twenty feet down
and you'll hear a strange sound.
STOP! and take further instructions.
For the well you just DUG
is now feeling SMUG.
You listened,
and NOW you are TRAPPED!

The story the Wall has just told you.
Was told in the tongue of your own.
When did YOU open the door for 'Old Nick'?
Did he come to you dressed as a Clown?

If life's a triangular circle.
The 'Labyrinth' IS the front door.
Go to to the front
and you're right at the back.
So why did you come here before?

The harder you PUSH!
The harder the PULL!
The Steeper you climb.
The further you fall.

Listen to stories?
You listen to lies.
Tell the TRUTH!
And no-one believes you.

Fall from grace,
and they laugh in your face.
Life's a 'tissue'
that YOU must see through.

...........

venbunce.com 

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The Light Of Life.

If a poet holds the light of life,

and shines it all around.

Who lights the light

that burns so bright,

and always lets them down ?

It’s said that they who hold the light,

will have their hands burned raw.

That when they hold the light aloft,

they will be kicked down to the floor.

The poets must be foolish,

for they have been advised

of the dangers that they face,

as they put their thoughts to rhyme.

Would you hold that light so bright ?

Could you take the pain ?

Could you tolerate the suffering,

ridicule and shame ?

Could you lay your life out bare,

and let the vultures take their share ?

Could you cut your soul right open,

to let all of mankind stare ?

When the guilt of all our brothers,

finds a niche inside your mind.

Will you burn it out with the light of life ?

Or cut it out, with a red hot knife ?

Maybe you’ll just carry on,

with the life you call your own.

Let the poet hold the light of life.

As the way, they have been shown.

Let them have their hands burned raw.

Let them be washed up on the shore.

Let their body be cut for every sin.

Then why not rub the salt right in.

The poets there to be abused.

For all the time they hold the light,

for all of us who are confused.
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Check Out 'Poet or Story-Teller'

This poem - 'The Light Of Life' was written at the end of the original draft of 'Visions Of The Future Past' which was first published in 1988. The book has had a couple  of updates over the years but ALL of the poems and main concept of the original book has been kept.

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Thank You ...... Ven @ venbunce.com