Universal Credit

Saturday, a priest amongst days.

These poor hands receive the descent of man,

My rightful share in an illegal age.


I am a writer, not a fighter,

Searching old stories hidden under rock,

Of how angels never made it underground,


Then embracing an eleven-o-clock break

To consider whiff-waff and dildrams.

Don’t ask me what I mean.


Instead, consider grandmother’s glass eye

And her three hours of secret history.

The nanny state made me. I intend to enjoy it.




2 thoughts on “Universal Credit

  1. Whiff-waffs and dildrams sound delightful. And writers are in constant battle with themselves. Haha! A lot being said here, Davy. Just adding my two cents to it. 🙂

    1. It’s worth much more than that Terveen 😊 I think it is the daily battle that keeps us going. Thanks for taking time out to read and share your thoughts.

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