Our Endless Numbered Days


John E Marks
2 min readJan 23, 2021


Photo by Marian Kroell on Unsplash

Sky and sea and land, these three amigos,
like love and fate,
lately delayed the day the dreadful daylight starts
of unkept promises and broken hearts.

God’s dying conspired to extinguish every ounce of youth and beauty
to send us scurrying to the heaven-sent skies,
or some dreamy city of the sultry south,
where word of mouth only carries a smidgen of meaning,
and that’s as far as it goes, no proof allowed, fingers, feet or toes?

She points at fragrances, shatters ceilings, catches scents of musk
in a roman de la rose, at the close of business,
there’s money to be made in trade in babies, food, body parts, slaves;
human trafficking robs us all of heart
there’s no comfort in knowing this
only a few people have evil hidden deep inside themselves
holocausts cant be bought or sold.

So many copy cat killers around these days.
living life in a drug-fuelled haze
I rap the walls with bleeding knuckles
no stars left in the sky and nobody listens as time drifts by.

Years can sometimes become stars, I know,
when the weeping of the poor enters our soul;
wishing for tomorrow is buried deep in the hearts of the people
who dream of the gaps left in the brutal determinations of life
trouble nor strife, spend time in a wilderness of flowers,
or contemplating holocausts?

Only the daffodils know the force of renewal
and they are securely hidden from the cold and frost
futures are bent, twisted, bruised, lost
and very rarely the sweet taste of this old sad sweet song,
is music made from all our broken hearts.



John E Marks

I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can