He built a totem pole
That reaches the sky,
Where he sits in judgement
On the villagers and I.
It's built from confusion
And doesn't talk back,
He's attractive and bright
Shame about his sight.
He sees with a critical
Cross-eyed vision,
In his brain in his head
Or in prison?
He spews out words
Like a jigsaw puzzle,
I hope one day
We unravel the muddle. By Ms Gail Priestley
Alexandria Road, Radcliffe
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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