Capital City Church International Capital City Church International

Not quite plastic tough elastic

Makes me spastic this

Middle class brass bubble

That keeps me calm in

An ocean of trouble

Above pathetic but

Unsympathetic anaesthetic this

Middle class mask that doubles

My deceit as a priceless antique

In the rubble.

Oh Hollywood have a heart and fall silent

For one moment as I glimpse a

Flash of your dirty knickers.

I thought I saw the quite absurd –

It could have been a tweetie bird.

Something flickered.

I'm not sure any more because the

Bubble burst for only a brief moment.

What price!? What price!? What price

I pay for a lifelong stay in the

Semi-Penthouse suite. Sweet and sour.

Cometh the hour cometh the bubble man;

Here's trouble man,

It's double-or-nothing-man.

That's something, surely?

Oh so rich but so poorly this surly soul

Surrounded by such cool gadgets –

Gosh I'm posh-underspiced, overrated and

Extra-bored. Lord, get me outta here.

Gottagetouttahere. Gottagetouttahere!

Slow train comin' down the track, it's

Bare and burnt and a bad sight for

RayBan eyes. The seats are worn, torn, forlorn from

Years of being sat on and spat on by riders

Who longed for the liFe chained to Me.

How ironic, this sad sardonic

Double-edged sword signed 'Jealousy'..

Everyone is grasping upwards;

No-one knows contentment except in flash

Moments of secret ecstasy. Why me?

Why me Lord? Why not leave me to my

Unerring inertia of middle-class meaningless

Momentum? Why not leave me as a...

As a…silver-plated parody of perpetual momentum

On the desk of the gods?

It was not my lot. It was not even a little bit.

It was a nothing. Now that bare burnt

Train is going….somewhere, at least.

Could a different destiny

Rest in me Somehow?

Blessed are the poor in faith - but

Blessings are the faith of those terrified of Poverty.

No chance of a cuppa tea from enamel again?

My clumsy refrain in a Train.

Happy with nothing, for there I can possess..

Everything.

It's easier to sing but let it chug.

I have my mug of char and somewhere,

Somewhere far I know, somewhere

Under the rainbow (way out of sight)

I will find a place to grow out of my diminution –

Out of this awful middle-class

Morph-dwarf attrition that forced me

To view the world through

The big end of a telescope.

Hope. Hope. Hope again.

My refrain on a train.

Let me smell it, glimpse it, brush it briefly

As it's promise passes by my

Middle-Class Bubble

Stretched tight with my craning.

Without it, without it's touch,

I feel Life draining out.

I'm near the end of my rope.

With one touch I can go on in the hope of....

Significance

ND