Fridays were special,
work was plentiful;
when the job centre found you.
Now just any other day —
yet blacker,
more dastardly,
that Friday feeling
banished forever
to that distant land
called happiness.
Gold fish in a bowl
Endless demented circling
Who’s the first to speak?
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
I grew up with your image.
Now they say you don’t exist.
I walked in your footsteps,
it was all I needed.
I read your words
and they spoke to me
across centuries of time –
as if I was there.
Are you a figment?
Faith covers my ignorance
You speak to me still
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
Tell me about your life,
the one hidden from view.
Odysseus has nothing on you,
your veiled celebrity
and inheritance of justice.
For all of our sakes
This is for humanity
Not every one
copyright Francis Barker 2020
I follow you,
my Buddha in the being,
born to fame and luxury,
subject to loss and tragedy.
You lead a life of example,
of peace and patience.
I judge you by what is done,
not by what you say,
though such few words
have meaning
Better a good man
Rather than one who is great
I can follow you
copyright Francis Barker 2020
Ciscography 