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Gavin Cook

of

Edinburgh, Scotland, UK

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Untitled

by

Gavin Cook

As the trees fall, to let the towers rise,
I feel the evolution reverberate around my heels.
"Make way!"
Make way for the new dawn,
One that creates restrictions
Rather than promotes freedom,
One that bites the feeding hand
And chooses to forget.
That sees the world as nothing more than a blank canvas
Ignoring past masterpieces -
and gouges idylic new paths


lives under grey skies (2)

by

Gavin Cook

Crawl on your belly
Through the ruins of a beautiful dream,
The dream we planned to last
For ever, and never.
To utter the word would be blasphemy in first degree -
burn my head and bind my wrists
Your ways of take and trample.
Those who live to fall in line,
another featureless face, (fake tan no doubt).

The flippant disregard for any universal
unwritten law
Those who know, know.
What's the "no no" here?
Being your self and being prepared
to be lifted off the shelf?
For the frying pan is hot
And the fire welcomes you in.

The Mulga Wire

by

Gavin Cook

After mornings done
we hear the starters gun,
All the larks are roosted, man,
we don't see none.
All the afternoons the same
And in the dusk we lost our name,
This is the last grey cuppa,
Chilly feet
And the last round in the game.

So I go to to check the greener,
One crossed the other side,
Sit in a citronella ring of fire,
sending my mind along the mulga wire...