Flu…
Each year we run,
Each year we dodge.
The arrows hit – the arrows miss…
Slowly we fall to the ground.
Pain inside out,
Illusion and reality vie for attention.
Sweat, headache and snot…
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
The NHS cannot cope,
Life comes to a halt.
Bring-out your dead…
Demons run about your head.
Adrian Chan-Wyles – Sutton (London) 22.2.2019
THE SANGHA KOMMUNE (SSR) 