Letter: Your Shout - Wise up to a world without props.
THIS is the story of buying 10 fags from the shops, Of how we get conned into buying stage props, The director's promise gives us the cues, The nicotine tube turns into our muse.
The Editors have exposed the clues.
Attempts to adopt a false status, Is it our actions or thoughts that create us?
Glimpses of the profound and mundane, Are men's rules the rumblings of the insane?
Our confusion, the mirror to the pain.
Drawing smoke down the windpipe into the lungs, Is feeling, not pleasure, a ladder without any rungs, The fuming in the mind is turned to heat and smoke, Don't get confused with thoughts that make you choke Some habits become millstones, a type of curse, Will your coughing fit into the hearse?
We all die successfully, This is predicted faithfully, Life is adaptability, Creative capability, Sprinkled with predictability.
Nevertheless, the communication will be less smoky, A call to live less blokey, Wise up to a world less pokey.
JASON CARPER, Newcastle
STATUS SYMBOL?: A cigarette