Rob Schackne #410 - A Faint Dictionary Of Scars (7) "Rid hard put up wet"

Rid hard put up wet
Melancholic bets
The left keeps placing
The stomach’s full
The head won't reach the sky
Hopes survive the storms

Hop o' me thumb
It's called a game
It's been declared
The world's a stage
The fruits of the mind
Are like pineapples

I want realms of memory
Links of failed utopias
To look forward
To not looking back
From the land
Of illegal charities

Today they wonder
About the point of us
Not angels or devils
Contentment or joy
The short-term feeds
Think small bellies