The Works of P G Heron

Every so often I get an email from a man calling himself P G Heron. This mysterious character sends me poetry which is clearly the product of a dilated anterior fundus, no doubt brought on by excessive consumption of eggnog. If you wish to read on do be aware that by doing so you risk your eyes turning into soil.

Tuesday 13 September 2011

The Dangerous Building

Oh, beautiful dangerous building.
Oh, dangerous building that stands
Literally between cemetery
And fire station
Oh, the irony.
I can see you from inside you.
I cannot see your danger but I know of it
Like the terrible temper of
A secret wife-beater.
When the fire alarm yelps into action
During a routine practise
The security door circuitry fails
All doors become walls
To bang our panicked, sweating, disembodied brows against.

However, there is another exit.
Always a way out
Built into the building's design.
To find it you must first unlock the secret email
That has not yet been sent
By the buildings supervisor
Who is there to hold the dangerous buildings hand
In case it makes a mistake.
I hope that fire
Never visits here.