Poetry – It’s all a game.

It’s all a game.

It’s all a game;

As the utilities of the past

Are deployed

To attract the punters.

Stalls are laid out

With tourist tat

And ethnic garb;

With fossils, mineral,

Sustenance and experience.

For a fee

You can ride a camel,

Hold a monkey,

Charm a snake,

Hold an ostrich,

Take a carriage

And have your photo taken

With a Tourag in blue.

Behind the charade

Real life occasionally intrudes.

Opher – 20.3.2019

It feels to me that nothing is real. There is a circus going on and we’re all in the ring. There is a big game in which the pretence rules.

It’s a money-making game.

Do we go with the flow?

Do we glimpse the reality that works behind it all?

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