A poem by: Ben Dunk December 12, 1978.
Up the nearby stairs to the bared ready lady, and, the hospital
of dermatology sits like a Praying Mantis, awaiting
Whilst down under on the street, the Church
struggles in song and music to fill their tin charity cans. Only
peace and pence nurtured in their souls and receptacles.
Toiling into their happiness, youths with zest cleaving into the
waiting theatre people’s pains for fractions of seconds as they pass
To the believer lovely to love and embrace the night and
lights, flashing along, around and up to the pure mist.
Others shied and sheered from THEIR love unto the love of
bodies. Preferring sidling by to pleasures unthinkable
and un-enjoyable for the players and songsters.