Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry


The nonexistent house with its
nonexistent roof is colder than
the thermometer would have you think,
the invisible walls mouldy with
the damp of the absent care of
caring capitalism where the state
constantly ignores those who aren’t
wealth creators; the displaced, the
moved-on, the street dwellers and
silent beggars, who all live in this
house with no rooms, no heat,
no running water except for the rain,
and the drip drip drip of real poverty.

R 26/02/2023 18:19

I have lingered today over doing nothing much, although I was up at 06:20 so I would be ablt to take K to the station. M did the same with A a couple of hours later. Different destinations, but children departing on the ad/ventures is one of the worst things of parenting, for me anyway. Long walk – nearly 5 miles in the glorious sun. The excitement of a new keyboard where I can see the letters. All these things are manifestations of how fortunate we are not to be in the poem.

Tomorrow I need to start doing again – at work and at writing. But that’s tomorrow.

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