He's in that room Second door to the right Asleep on the couch Exhausted from trying to make sense of it all And from staying out of anyone's way He can't play the person he was anymore The clothes don't fit The lines don't ring true And the lighting isn't right All of his happy endings Added up to one massive disaster He stood up once To be shot down But that bravest hour His finest Misreported by many Cost him more than money And years And the loves of a life Although the fire was extinguished Some embers still burn When it's that three o'clock hour And the world is silent and God whispers "Don't worry" To thwart the attack of the shadow people For it takes a lifetime To realise That the more you're taught The less you think you know It's all part of the process Of shedding skins In order to set the spirit free From the chains of this world For you have to be beaten And mocked And fall Time and time again On your road to humility That will eventually carry you Above these prison walls The world has been taken over by idiots And statisticians Gossips shows and celebrity chefs And is a place where a couch In a tiny room Has become someone's refuge As he puts on his coat And goes walking with his ghosts Into a familiar surrounding That is at last bearable As he wanders With the knowledge that With wisdom comes predictability And explains God's boredom With us Can you imagine? Few can Take this man Oh, take him, Lord He who lived with trauma And the insanity of hope And walked streets that turned back into themselves Like people do And was insulted, defamed and betrayed By those he'd shown the most kindness to How much am I bid for his heart? It's weary from caring But it is still in working order What do I hear for his love That has the capacity to extend to so many For so little in return? What am I offered for his feet That have walked the world many times And yet were still able to stand while others fell? What will you give for his voice That was silenced for a time by experts Who feared his truth? Going once Going twice Sold Words (c) Frank Howson 2019 photograph by Bruce Woodley.
WHAT AM I BID?
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