The owner of everything sits locked behind gates
Beyond thick bars of steel he watches and waits
He waits for the new ones, the young and the old
He waits for the meek, the firm and the bold
He waits for the pheasant, the soldier and king
He waits for the children, the mothers will bring
He waits for the sick, the healthy, the frail
He waits for us all both female and male
He owns all the sheep, the horses and cows
He owns all the goats, the pigs and the fowl
He owns all the fish and what lives in the sea
He owns all of life, all that can be seen
Yet just for a while, will he ride on our backs
Just for a while, does he own what we lack
Just for a while, will we smell his foul breath
Just for a while, will we face our own death
Spiders are clever when they want what is dear
Stealing from death without any fear
Throwing him off when he clings to their backs
Robbing his knickknacks, his trinkets and trap
Folklore and myth, legend and lie
Clever they are, yet still they must die
©2010 Tim Wilkinson/Wayne Wilks
I listen close and try to hear,
The sounds I know will soon be there.
The ringing ends, the message clear.
The call complete and at my ear
My words are short and quite direct,
Their purpose plain, their goal descript
My mouth now moves as I inject,
My response to them from off my lips
The subject heats as I converse,
Knowing well my words and all my verse
I speak of love and things much worse,
As I describe my pleasures first.
I speak of things that some call sick.
I lay them out quite hot and thick,
Until the time I hear a click.
I then hang up. I’ve done my trick.
I often wish the caller could be,
Someone other than who I see
For well do I know that the callers is me,
When I playback the message on my answer machine.
© Tim Wilkinson & Wayne Wilks 1990-2009