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Poem

I took a chance and made some calls, cause home
Was on my mind. I knew late 2021 that things there
Wern't going fine. Of the calls i made one was to this
Guy, by the name of richard beks, editor of the spectator
In Hamilton in which he airs his dregs..At first I thought
He was alright, though maybe somewhat confused? He said
He was a jabs-worth? yet to each person their own views
I told him i knew David Noaks a farmer there, chris from the Athens
Eatery, he told me Chris was gone for years, and the changes
He had seen, old Tommy Moores boxing club was also gone
Once i touched upon its fate.. I reflected inside myself back along?
He said he'd view my writes online, and maybe do a feature
What a laugh.' If I'd really knew of what type was this old creature?
We talked some more then I rang off' thinking it would be good
To be read throughout the western districts to inspire thoughts as
Only poetry really could.' A month or two slipped along i made a
Call again He got Bronwyn there to feild my call, she said he was
In a meeting, of which I enquired of when that slot would end? She
Replied that was the question, her manner friendly enough, yet I
Sensed that beks himself was saying you get stuffed' i took the
Hint and closed the call, bewildered to say the least I'd thought from
The first call I had 'the measure of the beast' a few weeks on i did
A check on 'facebook' of all the places, and there i saw a post that
Called for 'beks account to be eras-ed.' It says he'd supported dirty
hume despite the cardinal sins he'd done 'the rotten child abuser'
And old beks had glossed over, the crimes of that scum.? I drew a
Breath of deep releif, I thanked the Lord above..Who keeps my ways
And brightens the days, who is the only author of justice and Love.!

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