Meet Me At The Wall

You used to haul hurt but “used to” tires – you refuse to get used to scar-long walls. 

Will they take you all the way to the end of the climb if you meet them at the wall? 

This wall is made of hate-red shame, it makes your skin and your eyes crawl 

but what’s a body without (porous) borders, what’s a city without (dirty) walls? 

When your poems are lost in their epic – gnomic sardines left to trawl, 

come cast our nets, arrest ‘them’ pens, please catch us words at the wall. 

From space they smile, to scale walls bare teeth; after night’s bite comes morning’s maul. 

You’ll run right through bricks shaped like books, births, work – help you just through this one wall. 

To the ones who went over the top, parapet saint-like Pauls –  

let’s pillar their posts, dance round their ghosts and paint their blood with walls. 

When your son asks “what’re we building, Dad?” and you can say nothing at all, 

well bake your kids and bring those bricks and we’ll build ‘em some better walls! 

There’s walls of skin and words and wails; all walls rise and all fall. 

Walls must exist, no agnostics can doubt their own blood-soaked, blocked-up walls. 

When the next barrier takes your last biscuit, a taste of Wall Street’s wall sweet walls, 

pray the bollocks off Moloch – if there’s a God, it’s on the other side of this wall. 

No matter the lay of your life isn’t level; where reality rises, concrete falls. 

Set your mind to nest the gaps – we’re born to homeward-bound our walls. 

Those times you have to fly through the far white sky to the other side of it all –  

ground control, we must breathe our earth to reform half clay-baked walls. 

Revolutions alight at night when symbols’ dark strength dusks’ a pall. 

After all men are monkeys with blazing hands evolved to start and scale firewalls.  

Regeneration now means keep wolves out with the walls of little pigs’ malls 

but local is global so ‘I’ shall ensoul all our self-made enclave walls. 

Because doctors scatter membered truths your vision can’t afford to trawl, 

borrow my hard-boiled eyes then we will see what larvae lie between our walls. 

When your female line hunch down like dogs, foreing on all crawls, 

stand us upright, take my lead, I’ll unleash our woman at the wall. 

If you’re sitting comfy, I’ll begin our tales toppling biographies of walls 

determined to turn, halfway up A – one day, grateful for this door-weighed window-wall.