Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry, Politics


His universe has shrunk.
To the inside of a room.
To the space within.
It used to be panoramic infinity.
Now it is monotony.
The same every day.
Seconds, weeks, years.
His chair is static.
His mind.
The sun doesn’t rise nor spin.
Light hides.
Corners have no edges.

R 18.11.2023 15.41

On another note, I’ve just put a poll up on twitter, as to whether or not I should delete my account on there. The reason being that it’s just become a cesspit, that its owner is nothing more than a young fascist, to be perfectly honest. Wealth should not give anyone the right to be a bigot, a racist, a braggart, nor to subvert human rights and liberties. Someone did just point out to me that I would be giving up my voice on there just as we move towards a general election, which is something I guess I have to take into account. I just don’t want to be seen as endorsing a man who is so definitely amoral. Life is full of conundrums (much too nice a word for the choices we’re presented with).

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