Digging

DIGGING

fallen in a heap again
why do i keep
falling in a heap?
i got plaster i got bricks
i got a boxful of tradesman’s tricks
i got cement
well it’s still in the bag
there isn’t a tap here that’s the drag
i got sand i got trowels
i got my dad’s good set of rules
the architect’s plan
said build a square
but i read it wrong
and built it in air
he laughed like a demon
when he saw what i’d done
said Won’t last a minute
in a good-going sun
dig down there
with the help of your brutes
it won’t be a square unless it has roots
so i dug and i’m digging
and i’ll dig
but digging’s not the trouble
it’s getting rid of the rubble
he specifically said
I don’t care what’s done
with what you throw out of here
but we’re delving to go up again
and the surface must be clear
and here i’m surrounded
i’m mountained and mounded
with more rubbish than hole
and no barrows at all

fallen in a heap again
why do i keep falling in a heap?

Poetry , Prose and Sparkle, Assassin