Tuesday, 29 December 2020

Prodemic 

I saw the bat that carried the virus, they were not to know. The human race needs to eat, Cockroaches, dogs, pigs feet, a large barbecue, a small amount of money with a little treat, the remains of filth of the human pilf, forestry felled for the use of tilth. 

Coronavirus began in Wuhan City, now isn’t that a pity, they would never think of eating bat in London Town, Lizard or snake, there’s the accusation of eating lamb at twenty five pounds a leg, I ask you who’s making a mistake?, with a Wellington bake, Surely food is there for the take, not a commodity of the free Democratic race.

Tragedy wherever it begins places the Earth at a costly sin, millions will die from human error, the eyes of the old  show the real threatening terror, the planet warms, the ice caps melt, the children in school cannot even spell, destructive, odoriferous, perfidious greed, over selling the cause is an odious feed.

Intellectual farce with the clowns at the helm, let us pray for a harvest and burn all the chaff, ridicule self loathing chastise them for laughing, pack them off to hell. prioritise our ties, no more lies, stop inoculation allow some of the flies,strengthen our immunity, retrace the demise, punish the fools, Kill all their spies. 

A fools paradise, ecclesiastical curse, look after the hungry or it may get worse, let a river flow to refresh the thirst, wash your hands forevermore, protect the bubble then close the door, our children will one day know what it was for, their granchildren will scream your such a bore, 

Thank God it’s not a war, or is it? 


Sunday, 27 December 2020

Not a mere fish

It was not a mere fish he caught, radically a benign flounder, created from a dream by an overseeing founder, deep within the knowledgeable mind of a strumming, drumming sounder, as a child banging tins with a hardened rubber pounder, dipping his rod into the lake that’s perpendicularly rounder, it was not a mere fish he caught as he sat on the ground, aah

Tuesday, 22 December 2020

Falling at 16

Shimmy Shammy overwhelmingly clammy, slipped and fell, unbelievably Jammy, landed in a pile of builders sand, my friend looked down, said “you alright, can I lend a hand?”, no damage done, although it was not fun, frightened to the hoof, when I fell from that roof. Just winding up the electric lead, falling backwards at quite a speed, the lesson I learned back then, thus far is, never walk under the safety bar. 

Sunday, 20 December 2020

Close our eyes

Living a problematic life, following a road with trouble and strife, put on, considered soft, gentle and weak, not the kind of person that people seek, no matter, whatever they like to say, everything is not all grey, a spectrum of light can fill our existence, find a piece of Joy in every little difference

A pain in the heart hardens a spiteful soul, to be gentle, on the retrieval of glee, bully the ones that have victim inside of thee, realise they were the ones who care, so punish ourselves if we dare. Cripple thine own strength to crumble away, then wither to destruction and die alone today. 

Retrieval of beauty in ones eyes, bird in a tree, a structure of Oak in a land of rolling hills, grass of a lush green meadow leading down to the sea, white chalk of Dover cliffs, a dove coming home from over the Channel bringing with it the promise of a country not far away, it’s at this moment, all can be there, wash away the sadness from ones hair, extraordinarily blue sky, sun shining fair. 

Feeling the taste of things turning wrong, listening to a Blackbirds feint singing of a melodic song, pressure from the end of a captured fork, release is essential for a standing stork, closing ones eyes, put a picture in mind of arriving by ship, Statue of Liberty, gasp at ones lip, the festive season of Goose and Pork, Times Square, Central Park and standing in New York.

A kill to destroy the upset one can see, travel the world in a fantasy, Paris, Berlin, Madrid, Italy, closing our eyes and there we can be, just a moment in time, make history, Timbuktu or the Black Sea, imagining our own kind of reality, a beautiful forest in the Rhine, on a yacht on the Seine, wherever we travel the peace is thine. forget our worries, our facial lines, to be at peace, for us is fine.

Friday, 18 December 2020

Unseen 

The tide flows and changes, swishing in and out, periodically like a tsunami, destruction comes about, it quite often astounds me, how a person recovers from this, nothing left but fragments with memories of ones you miss. 

Give a swathe of Joy to darken many door, is this what we teach every girl and boy? Is England proud of, “I’m okay” instead of “I am great”, hoping that one day in the future with a shows of hands, a miracle will turnaround change to our apathetic land.

It’s a mournful situation to allow sorrow, sadness, homelessness, hunger, does wealth have its tow? , there are many impoverished in the world that will never really know, mothers cannot breast feed undernourished with no milk, they have never felt the comfort of a sleep in a bed, with sheets made from silk

Let the children come to me, not a slap across the face, mothers too poor for Christmas presents with the cost of make up and lace, Christmas is a time of Joy when Santa arrives in the night, what will you receive this year,? rich givings I suspect while those who have nothing to live for are just  happy to be alive 

Tuesday, 15 December 2020

Battles won

Irrational with noise, shout yer mouth off, the quiet of a nights sleep will soon fill your trough, slimy and slithers down past your mind, when it reaches your derrière it will leave your behind. 

1984 remember the year?, “no what happened then, My love, my dear?”,  “I fell down the stairs?”, “no!”, your grandpa died?, “nope”, “I bought a new car?” She looks with anger, “we went to Jafar?” , she replied “We swore undying love, ring any bells?” Replied he did “and I Married a gruff’ my love” 

Laughter is the recipe for successful marriages also a trip to Harrods and claridges, “that day was no exception the church was without a spire, the vicar was so old, about time he retired, the wedding car Crashed into the bus full of guests, when the vicar said “if anyone has anything to declare your Dad was so drunk he stripped off bare, worst of all he had no hair; anywhere!” 

“No give me a clue” he said, Then something like an iron just missed his head, after some silly remarks his wife had seen red, anger got the better then he gave her a letter, she read it with some scowl, her finger crossed the page with a prowl, it read ‘Happy Anniversary love of my wife, thank you for twenty years of my life’ attached to it was a ticket for a plane, an Hawaiian island to get married again. 

She keeps it in the fridge for at least a week the second part of the tail, the damage it wreaks, sickness and weight loss, malnutrition at her core, continual growth she could feel it’s bore, Sushi, hard to finish off, eaten fresh, a tasty delight, doctors were baffled with her fight, found the little blight.Liquid was a way of saying good night, it made her so ill and gave her a fright, now she is feeling better to her delight. both battles won

Sunday, 13 December 2020

Be Bold, dance in the rain

Sometimes I dance in the rain, travelling through this dark life repelling no shame, nail me to the cross, ridicule my style, betrayal is a way of life that I’ve been used to for a while, place me in the cold, see if I fold, never on a Sunday because I’m fighting bold.

A laugh in the heart of an evil act, will only back fire and that is a fact, walk away smiling, punch the air, see if your happy for long, see if you dare, I’ve died a hundred fold over, I’ve walked through a blizzard, the guilt will rip out your throat, deafen your ear, rip open your heart then eat your gizzards 

Although you rejoice in a battle done, make sure it’s a victory that was fairly won, there’s no shame in being kind, tread carefully with thought in mind or would you rather step on hard, smash your victims heads, cheer loudly to have gained the victory then twist a knife, making sure the loser is well and truly dead, are you happy to give your soul all this dread?

Gruesome remembrance of difficult years, not forgetting your destructive gift, slash and cut, a nightmare drawn, lying still as a forlornly deer, positive reactions to continue the trail, keep on moving and continuously fail, psychologically never the same, swear I’d not be a victim again. No I’m never going to be a victim again, at least I’ll try. 


Tinder dance

Tinder do

Tinder dire 

Tinder love

Tinder mire

Tinder search 

Tinder birch

Tinder could and

Tinder should

Tinder infected 

Tinder wire

Tinder is the wood

That kindles the fire.


Saturday, 12 December 2020

Wearing Armour for peace

Don’t die miserable with pains the world has given, but go smiling and fighting for the peace that you will receive in heaven. 

Tuesday, 8 December 2020

Old, New, Borrowed, Red & Blue

I have a hybrid, it doesn’t go fast 

The engines quite old, I don’t think it will last

It’s a cross between Water and Petrol mixed

Either that or the piston heads not fixed

It reminds me of a lawnmower mowing

If you wait long enough, you’ll see it not going 

it runs on oil and willpower too

red, grey and a little bit blue

It has the XFactor

X means it’s in the past, 

pedal to metal, it’s still not fast 

Press the accelerator and you may get a blast

I Cannot see through the windscreen

As the glass is so scratched 

I cannot lock the door as it has no latch

Mondeo at the front, Astra at the rear

It’s log book dates with three different years 

Still it’s mine with its own working clock

The lights sometimes spark

Then I get a small shock

A guide to repair is in six Haynes books

But like a Ferrari, a classic of its kind 

It gets lots of wows with people standing blind

not by it’s looks, but the smoke left behind

It’s worth fifty pounds, when the tank is full

And Ten Thousand pounds 

If I sell it to you.



Queens Park

There is a park of calming surround, people from Bolton arrive all around, feeding the ducks, children on swings, for some it is a place to hear the birds sing, usually there is an Ice cream van ringing ‘Ding a Ding Ding’, not for little Emily Jones

Go for a walk then have a run, take the dog, join in the Fun, whatever you like it’s everywhere, Queen’s Park is nice to see, sometimes a bouncy castle that is free, look at the plants or the trees, locals say it’s Humdrum, not little Emily Jones.

A sickness of possession, it’s a wicked cruel world, that takes the life forever, of a wonderful little girl, call it what you may, a mind in disarray, Schizophrenic feud, or a crazy mental mood, irrelevant to the Mum and Dad who lost little their girl at Seven, little Emily Jones will be in Heaven. 

Some say life in prison is not a long enough sentence,  it is a way to pay some kind of penance, some drugs injected into her brain, she’ll never be the same, will not be free again, lock her up throw away the key, she will never feel the pain or the same as Little Emily Jones.

Rest in peace blessed little angel. XxX




Sunday, 6 December 2020

A stroll in the country 

Fog on a country road blinds my sight, it’s a scary place gives me such a fright, with turns and bends on the road ahead, if a car approaches I could be dead, Or maybe crushed against the stone wall or fall in a ditch after a long clutching fall,  then again nothing may happen, not at all.

I suddenly find the fog is gone, smoke from the large barbecue clears, to be in shock and awe by lots of cheers to be welcomed in with warm Kentish beers, I feel the love of a familiar crowd, people I’ve not seen for many years, my grandad, my Nan, my great uncle Will, looking quite well and seeming quite fed, a dance by the fire that is glowing bright red, My Mother and Father rush from behind, they pull my coat with a tug, turning round, I wept to see them looking so well, I clutched them both tight for a long loving hug, I wrapped the shawl around my mothers shoulders she smiles and says goodbye my love. 

A fog fills my sight again I cannot see a thing, everything seemed strange, such an incredible thing, emotion Wells inside me I can see a Christmas tree, I open my eyes from a beer spirited nap, I see my children sing, Christmas carols can be heard there’s a present on my lap, you are with us now Dad they both briefly say, I smile warmly at them and then sweetly say, I love you so much as Christmas fades away, I always will my children forever and a day, memories are important, cherished parts of our reign,yet you can live them moments again my friends, again and again.  

Saturday, 5 December 2020

A strange occurrence 

I woke with a start in a fine fettled blink

Hearing the sound of a familiar clink

Plates from the washer tinkled away

I wondered to look, as I heard someone say

“There must be some food here, to eat today?”

Creeping downstairs plunger in hand

I saw the movement of a scruffy small man

Disheveled and wretched, unclean face

He shuffled about at a tinkering pace

The kitchen was tidy, not a thing out of speck

I thought to myself, ‘now what the heck?’

With sandwich in hand he opened the door

Shouting “Thanks for the food”

then I could see him no more

I opened the fridge to observe what had gone

Just some mouldy old cheese and an smelly onion

I thought ‘a strange occurrence’ without dismay

I eventually adjusted to the strange kind of fright

Then hoped he would return some other cold night

One evening I found him asleep in my shed

I closed the door quietly and crept back to bed.

Friday, 4 December 2020

‘Twas the night before Christmas 

Clement Clarke Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.


The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.


The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.


With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!


"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"


As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.


And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.


He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.


His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.


The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!


He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.


He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!


He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Tuesday, 24 November 2020

Lyndsey 

I saw the beauty, it was her name, I carved it on the wall, her long golden her, her eyes of Blue, Her name echoed Lyndsey, her legs were tall, yet I was small.

Adorable to me, my heart was a flutter, it felt to me as though she could melt butter, with her little wry smile that’d linger a moment, I would lean on the wall and observe for a while.

Surrounded by girls and boys alike, she; crowd stopping to see, for only a fleeting second she would notice a boy like me, last I heard, Lyndsey became a model, took lots of drugs and liked a little tipple.

History  is part of a tiny memory, encouraged by money, drugs, friends, men a many, Lyndsey lost weight, on a bulimic craze, surrounded by faces at her grave side mass, it all seem trivial, if a little crass.


Thursday, 19 November 2020

Diverse sorrow 

Tis’ a tainted line I frequent with no reason to beg for forgiveness for as a inspirited angel I tread the path of righteousness, forsaking none aside myself, alas at the mercy of thy bitterness in my’ direction

Thy hand cast a rock that breaks as it falls fragmenting into pieces, showering thee with an avalanche of hail like stone, thus piercing a hole within my pure heart. 

Prayer has its persuasiveness with many a proven miracle at my side, yet as I fear when the prayer ventures away from my lips miracles progress for another as ordained, though my feelings of anguish express theirselves at my impatience 

Thy hand is at my heart fondling away sending pain to my very inner being, yet I empathise with thee, still the same as you have suffered beyond mention, my attention is brought to your desperation and if thy do not recover well then I have failed in my attention to your functional needs, I will endure forever, sorrow. 

Tuesday, 17 November 2020

Why? 

Why weep ?.... when you’re guilty of blame

why complain ?..... you’re overwhelmed with shame

why beg forgiveness? then do it again

Why not change ? Or are you just the same ?

Thursday, 12 November 2020

Sweetness of patience

A dream came true, a prayer was answered, I changed my shirt, my back began to hurt 

Loving every day with weekends off, the first time at peace, what a wonderful feeling of release, painting a skirting, my back began hurting. 

Exercise daily, five miles or more, lifting heavy objects by the score, placing paintings, art and more, but this damn back is rather sore

A list of jobs, go on and on, but I wouldn’t have it any  other way, finally my mind is at rest each and every day, except for my back, I’d like to say. 

It’s getting better, i am fitter than ever, a wonderful place, full of joy and grace, a head that cares for the human race, still have my painful back to face, somehow, some way, it’s getting better every day. 

Damn Back! 

Wednesday, 11 November 2020

Ravelled

A binding of my heart, a creeping vine, a chance went a begging, a complicated start, I stood tall mimicking an oak, caressing a powerful mind, unwrapping a story, a belittled fragile joke

Weakness of thy soul, Corruption of the mind, punishment for all,  will not go a miss for the lord is not blind, a prayer for deliverance, recovery for good, a change in ones behaviour, trouble far behind 

Am I clever, stupid or soppy?,  a person with diligence, an indulgent carbon copy, remember the fun we once had shared, look back on our youth, irretrievably different, perhaps we never cared.

I love the world and all it has to offer, the chance to meet interesting people, to share a moment together, the children with joy in their faces, adults taking them places, the look on their tiny little faces at Christmas time, opening their Xbox Cases.

To see a baby in the arms of love, hear the last post played almost perfectly from a white handed glove, in the future nothing taken for granted, the reality of truth, not of an opinion which is slanted. 

A promise of a bright future to be had by gaul, those tiny minded people calculating and small, will turn to the dust on Judgement day, with a twist of a hand to crumble and fall. Yey Crumble and fall.

Tuesday, 27 October 2020

A world of mystery in your sleep

Why do we dream, when a dream isn’t real? Is it a state of mind, a phsycological overkill?, preventing a reality from happening at all, or a tale of the future warning us all, is it comfort feeding our wants and desires, or forgetting a memory, putting out fires, one thing that I hold deep, it’s between awake and asleep, holding the secrets that I may want to keep. Some are not secret, just an idea for a book to capture a story that might be worth a look. So a hint for you before going to sleep, speak the words, ‘I will remember my dream when I close my eyes’  sleep half awake and sleep half deep, then I open my mind and take a peek. 

Saturday, 12 September 2020

Relive a moment, not to soon 

It’s such an awful tease, I’m doing my best to please I haven’t stopped running of late, Yet I’m up for debate, a new start is a godsend following a corruptive blend, everyone needs a friend.

Go here, go there, listen intently, not to share, changing daily, without a rest, losing weight, not my stomach, off my chest, muscle bound, a hunt for the hound, all over everywhere, cannot be found.

Daily task with an endless list, concentrating on an awful lisp, Weekend comes around real soon, a moment in life and not to soon, happy when Monday’s here once more and I’m back again to even the score

 I feel important, well that’s what I’m there for, years of drudge and a moment of cheer, how long it lasts, I’ll never know, I pray that I have a way to go. Remember the moment as it’s not there long, dance in the rain, singing the song, strive to live a life that’s long.

Friday, 4 September 2020

Stricken Youth 

She dances in the meadow with her golden Labrador, swirling barefooted as a Spanish matador. Pretty blue eyes, hair as the sun, she went for an ice cream, why not it seemed like fun, if she knew any different she would run and run and run. 

He befriended the little girl, swore to treat her nice, treat her like an angel, then ruefully took her life, divided childhood memories, beaten, bruised, abused were the only things remembered from his unenviable youth.

Evil transfusion evil, an opening in the spleen, a dark  position in the blood let’s the devil in, increasingly dangerous, the poison travels forth, entering what’s left of man to render him insane.

When the final judgement came they locked him in a cell, ten years he wept for murder then gassed him into hell, the little girl is with her dog forever blessed in May, he finds the little girl this month then plays away his stay. 


Sunday, 30 August 2020

A right so and so 

Douse me in fuel, watch me go,

 set me on fire, coz I’m a right so and so.

Thursday, 13 August 2020

Kind thy natures not!. 

I leave a legacy of sorrow and pain, therefore I give advanced warning for my grandchildren, there on, if you aren’t keen to continue my burden, think it slow, time is plentiful, everyone can yearn for your achievement, afore disappearing from sight, parading their might, way into the night.

My punishers, who dared to slay, the benefit of my offering, I, ‘being a thick skinned intellectual’, you believe your worth to be clever, going forth to lower your own self esteem while destroying mine, I know what you have done and can bide my way, whatever comes around then goes around, I fear you are out of measure and sync, You may suffer but I’ll move along, I will be fine. 

Crying is a fools game, yet it is something I do all the same, am I embarrassed by my showing of feelings?  I would be contrived to reject such a natural aspect of my soul, perceived to be a fool, nay’ is simple, to be  stigmatised in such a way that I am, therefore, I am

The entire galaxy may collapse, the planets be drawn toward one another, colliding dreadfully, a fierce diligent reactionary explosion to unbalance magnetism within the solar system, the power of a mighty implosion, a nucleus force, yet instead something calmer could be, rain may fall, cause no damage at all, a drowning of ones heart, ye’ a destructive force, ravaging downward withering thy failed organs bringing about extinction of a classless bully.

Dust settles about, it is a wasteful talent, hurricane blowing away the remains of death, reclusive molecules of irrelevant ions stain ones path of nothingness forevermore, a sweet scent and statue fills the void as a reminder of your once being, perfume of indistinguishable aroma fill thy sorrow soon forgotten, justification for wealth or gratification a spiritual awareness of evil fought, alas also gone, there’s no kind memory of once your here, no loss of heart, no wave with cheer, no remembrance of the year. 

Sunday, 9 August 2020

Apocalypse state

Procrastinating over triviality, loss of Cents, panic driven Dollar, you vipers, can’t you hear the children cry?, 

Starvation be the wealthy’s tax on the poor. Trump angers me, I tremble, abolish the welfare state! Why are you not angry for the presidents gloat?

Do not riot or fight for the cause, stand, march, join together, have the peaceful say, use your democratic vote to change his way, get rid of the beast of hate.

The lesson to everyone is change, White, Black, Muslim, Jew, why bow down to just a few, Xenophobic neighbour contemptuous fate, 

It is not concern with colour, just a problem with hate abolish guns that they kill others with, feed the hunger, house the homeless that, your killing them with.

you self righteous cowards, die and leave the legacy of the past that your death will leave for the future, take a look at your reflection it kind of suits yer. 

Friday, 7 August 2020

Shadows 

I remember the day we ran through the fields of green laughing as we did, your hair, Wildly blowing in the subtle breeze, the golden stilettos you were wearing sank into the soft soil, our legs crossed just before we tumbled to the ground, while we lie there, I leant forward to kiss your soft red lips, the precious moment appeared as if in a dream that seemed to last forever, yet in reality it was a fleeting whisper of a butterfly’s wing, I raised my head to purchase your ageless beauty once again but, when I did, you were gone. For a brief second, I died once more, with you.

Wednesday, 5 August 2020

The Bravest seek the rewards

Struggling to move forward with a low carbon footprint, lowering pollution in transport fury, batteries carry power in short supply lasting a minuscule time, nuclear reaction, splitting the atom to dangerous scale will not do fine, it never will happen using a financial line.

There is a solution to a positive future, Gen IV reactors re-using nuclear waste, reducing the danger is a means tested faith, to ten years of frailty thousands of years save, the financial burden is a cost for the brave.

I believe vehicles in the future will fly without wings, Laser LED’s will move lots of things, from automobiles to trains and ships, fairground rides, tube transport that dips, underground travel at a thousand Miles Per Hour, New York to London in less than half an hour.

If nuclear extract could be trapped in a cell, small as a watch as strong as a shell, purest combination of atomic energy combining gas in LED Synergy, lift a vehicle in the air with a powerful plasma technology, a quartz revolution in silicone chips, freezing nuclear waste into harmless flakes with frozen oxygen, less of the mistakes.

Move through space for a two week vacation, Star Trek warp future is meant to be real, holiday to Mars or further afield to Unknown’s planets an eternal yield, Life in other galaxies are a positive reality possibly bringing mankind to a future sanctuary, there’s a whole universe,minerals and wealth will be, sadly I will not live long enough for rewards they will see.


Tuesday, 28 July 2020

Is it just me?

I yearned to make a statement, a mark in the world, I fought for peace to feel at ease, I hoped for freedom for the poor and the meek, yet no reward was felt, nor did I grasp to seek.

Fundamental Human Rights, mild mannered personal riches, a fight in the face of inequality, a National Health Service for each and every and those who require stitches, remember the time freedom spoken, folds away the past with hope

 Bring about the coming phase, a fashion that is fast, those with the money, are those that last, the many going without, will not change their view, propping wealth that grew and grew, self loathing bastards, are only the few

Fear not the law If you live in sin, it’s just a statement of the kingdom we are in, join together black and white, love each other, eradicate spite, cultures may be different, yet we are all the same, thick red blooded, intelligent brains, why do we search the country for anyone to blame.

I have a vision of kindness, an in-depth look into the heart, a morality shared by all, no wealthy, no poor, a land of plenty with no debt and more, Imagining neighbours of the nations without border control travelling the world, going to and fro.

Aim for perfecting the perfect race, create the best of us, banish the guns we hold and return them to dust, no need for military, we have no need for hate, outcast the hater then protect the gate, at the table sharing food, talk of sharing dreams, Euphoric action, we have the means.



Is it just me....... am I the only one, to see a freedom for everyone, if we started planting seeds today then a harvest will eventually follow, capitalism is a state of mind, equality is removal of greed?

Saturday, 25 July 2020

Imagination of a Hero

I was sure of a resounding win, an outcome of joy, the guns of HMS Victory for Nelson to employ. A splinter of wood grievously set to fly off the hard oak taffrail, injuring an eye.

A wondrous ship with masts of height, Cannons aplenty a gathering of might, stepping out of the recall, fine when small, most dangerous hazard for the slow or the tall.  

On the quarterdeck, vice admiral discussing war, Hardy at his breech, listening intently to his speech, extraordinarily a shot rang out all of a sudden, it cut through the left shoulder it was a good-un Nelson fell back among the ropes.

No hope was found, our Master lay on the deck, his body down below, he was bleeding slow, three hours later, the battle won were to be his last, the Victory lost when Nelson, our hero passed, I had been left with a heart of no joy, but it did not matter much, coz we were only playing a game and I was only, a little boy.



Saturday, 11 July 2020

Grate in Great Britain

I saw the grubby poor in the high street, wearing Nike shoes, the only pair, worn for a year, laid out the cash to a back street shifty, looking flash and nifty with his gold tooth and rotten, impetuous youth 

I recognised the tainted scent of marijuana, pungent shit on a stick wafted with the smell of sick, knock off eau de cologne’ masking a grotesque odour of the body, a tracksuit worn of the finest, dirty, old and torn

Counting sixteen, neigh twenty two, European nationals, where from?, who the bloody hell knows, hand out, begging for money to waste on smokey joes, departed from poverty and war torn hell

It’s just as well, waiting in the line queuing for everything, the white ruffian whore that swore, she doesn’t know a thing of life, grown into nought but living on the doe, crack cocaine, shit just the same

The High Street dead or dying, ‘Peasantville’  it’s name, it used to be grand with the finest shops around, now deserted and filthy, best item for cash if you dare risk the rash, still it’s cash, money in the pit

Girls go there in their ‘primaries’ robes with slippers on the feet, black eyebrows, jewellery in the beak, fat guts out in the midriff, looking for a spliff, skinny white boy says “looking sweet bitch” 

While scratching his itch, education is for the rich.

Wednesday, 8 July 2020

Ring Rosie

Ring around the Rosie’s
Children have  red nosies
Cough and splutter said
We will send them all to bed
A fever and a headache
An arm and a leg ache
A prayer or a whisper
We won’t be found dead




Romans 7 : but I am carnal

Strands of history, a thin web of thine own,
Fornication be, an unpleasant throne,
One can take account of a mouse in scuffle,
within a vast hall, ye! the truth ere shame
Contradict none, yet the same
To wear a jewel, a coat of thy blame
Heathen without blessing,
Be the blessed host, angel with fear
Tinder burn the frame, a coat of tear’
Wondrous joyful essence, a tragic chance
Away to the flames for thy eternal dance.
Death seems pleasant, a moment of bliss
So easily tamed to that final kiss
The devil gratuitously, give ye a hand
 Gods wanton child, to another land.

Monday, 6 July 2020

The cursed

Goodbye my friends, goodbye the hero
Trick has fell from one to zero
A meeting chance, one last dance
From Rome in Italy to Paris in France
Closed communication
A wit, a woo
A dreadful end, a trip to the zoo
There is no sorrow
No care from you
That was the way
you know it too
Too
too.................... too......................too.

Monday, 1 June 2020

The Prince of Duplicity

He is gone, you will see him no more, along with his iniquities he has been subjected, pulled into the dark, quiet forevermore, as a fallen pebble into sand of quick, remorse shall follow him until his vision of day implodes, his soul dissipating, thus gaining a place in hell forevermore. 

Gone is he, the man of power and pause, a prince of the realm, nay a prince of iniquity, his reputation in tatters before the world to see, the difference from a fake reality, forbidden to practice highly charged sensuality, freedom no more, for gone is he, gone is the prince of duplicity.

Wednesday, 13 May 2020

The parcel 

I received a parcel addressed to someone else, there it lies, collecting dust on the shelf, I often look at it and wonder what I should do, the van man said it is for me and not for you, I could open it, to take a look inside, then again what secrets might it hide, I could take a cheeky peek but it may be something that I cannot keep, it might be mucky or something yucky it could be something rare or Lucky, I’m ever so concerned, a person could be missing out, I should open it really to find out what it’s all about but I daren’t as it’s Royal Mail and Im worried to find out now, it may belong to a neighbour or a present from a friend that they’ve saved a long time for something special to send, it’s agonising, so much I’m filled with tension, I fear it will be there when I collect my pension, okay, I’ll open it, no, I won’t, no I shan’t, no I can’t. I’ll leave it on the shelf for a little time longer until I’m feeling stronger. 

Thursday, 7 May 2020

Anticipating Glenda

Patiently she waits for the wall to fall, not only to see the sky again but to feel it, a window open to Glenda is a glimpse of someone’s life, a person that’s taken the horse by the bit, then releases the creature into an acceptable fit, it jumping with its new found freedom, leaping into the air for joy.

She sits silently, looking for change, hoping that John will come her way again, sometimes she glances him drinking tea, stroking her hair, kissing her face, like it used to be, memories bring him back for one last feint moment, yet not too clear, her memory fades just the same. 

She sleeps and in her slumber, she dreams, of her House in the sky, John is there, doing the simple things, like mowing the lawn, then she wakes at dawn, he is again, gone!. she lives in hope of those moments they are together, for when she dies, she knows they will be.....forever

Glenda is fed her tea at six, lights switched out at ten, it doesn’t matter to her, so long as she can be with him again, the carers are kind and gentle beyond reproach, they dress her in a lovely dress with a gorgeous broach, John bought it for her, when they had wed, he was her one and only living coach.

The pasture where John lay is far, far away on the other side of the U.K., Glenda waits patiently for the wall to fall, for the last time..she is thinking of the never ending moment, like two young lovers, in each other’s arms, hardly seen, on the field of green, very much in love they will be as bewildering spirits in the night, a pair of white doves taking flight. 

Forever and a day. 




Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Cyclops 

That one eyed goose showed no fear, he followed closely, he was always there, pecking at your wellies, no matter what time of year, Uncle Bill would say “bugger off out the way”, “do you mind?” But the goose would come back and bite him from behind.

Cyclops, as sinister as a wasp, chasing around, without release, in charge of the animals and rounding up other geese, Uncle Bill laughed in his ironic way, yet that silly old goose, would just bite him anyway.

Miss you both Pat and Bill, you will be in our memories forever.

Wednesday, 25 March 2020

Julian Smith to ..........?

Surrounding awareness, fog driven mind irreparable,   Satan’s guide to elusiveness, driven to despair, taking a step further away from God.

For god is the lord, shepherding as Jesus Christ at the head of a gentle leadership for survival of the human race, striving to tread blindly into the darkness, then coming through into everlasting light.

Understanding the requirements to make sense, intelligence has never forsaken me, losing the ability to gather thoughts on the other hand is preoccupying every minute of realisation to step intuitively forward in confidence.

Anger, aligning with frustration at the terrible thought of losing memory and the purpose of everything that goes with it, feeling loss of an important history then knowledge of an indescribable beautiful face that I once knew and now barely recognise, the answer belongs to my mind, whose brain has fiction and a knowledge that is hidden forevermore. 

Then follows death, eventual mortality, taken in by hope and faith, either confidence of a resurrection to look forward to or a deep dark occurrence of nothingness, Irrespective of wantoness and a condition of a lost mind.

I am Julian Smith.

I am Julian ssss

I am Jules 

I am J

I am Me, I think

I am

I

Friday, 20 March 2020

Sparkle dust Spring

Pyrus Communis, pretty white flowers, Forsythia, little golden bells in gardens, sweet cutting of a newly grown lawn, crispness of the air in the early dawn.

Narcissus growing plentiful to lighten the dark, camellia rose shrub in the Parks, Cherry blossom, beautifully tall, leaving the most wonderful flower of all, a new year begins as the Magnolia fall.



Thursday, 19 March 2020

Gracie

He looks out of the window, it’s a solemn day outside, rain is falling again, a small grey squirrel is hanging on the feeder table, helping itself to peanuts, a sparrow hides under the wing of a pigeon, cooing softly. 

The nurse startles him “you all right Bill?”,  he nods, not expecting to see anyone enter his room, ‘they don’t normally!’. 

 “d’you wanna chat and a cup of tea?” She say’s in a broad geordie accent, William nods,  “okay then, if you’re sure” she say’s, then leaves as quickly as she came in.

 He looks at the small wall, drab magnolia in colour, ‘not a pretty sight’ he thought, he then looked along the wall at a framed photograph hanging, covered in dust, the picture was a photograph of his wife and himself, sixty years earlier, ‘now’,’she; was; pretty’, he thought to himself. 

William stared at the picture, mesmerised by her beauty, remembering every, line in her perfect face, her gorgeous scent of sweet rose, to touch her skin, as soft as a silk cushion, a cushion which he now held tightly, after what seemed like five minutes but was almost an hour, he wept a deep tear, all alone, to himself. 

William glanced out of the window again, there he saw the squirrel, chewing nuts, this time it was joined by a friend, a big brown rat, gorging himself, ‘my Jake should have caught that rat by now’, ‘where is he?’, he thought to himself, forgetting that Jake’, his cat, had been taken into care about the same time as he had been taken into the home. 

The nurse entered, this time a large Jamaican woman, “well bill, are you going to talk to me today honey?” She asked, William thought ‘if only they knew my name was William’ not Bill’, then nodded, “I’ve brought you some dinner”, “are you hungry”, William was hungry and nodded, “Good, we have Pie and mash for you darling”. 

Nurse kindly fed him his food with care using a fork and a spoon, then helped him drink a cup of tea, she never checked if he required changing, then left. William was wearing a pad but was wet. He was mostly unable to do much for himself anymore, he was Ninety two, William had gone downhill after his wife had died.

William sat in his chair looking around, ‘not much to see’ he thought, he would have watched the television except he’d dropped the remote control on the floor three days ago, he could not reach it and could not ask for it.

After some time of staring out of the window it began to get dark, the sun was setting although he could not see it above the clouds on this dreadful grey day, William glanced at the Star shaped clock on the mantelpiece it said six o’clock, he nodded off. 

The nurse came in at Seven P:M, she woke William, “Bill are you awake?”, “Bill”, he opened his eyes and nodded, “why don’t you ever watch tv man, you wouldn’t doze off, you must be bored, William rolled his eyes, “Are you ready for bed honey?”, he Shook his head, it was far too early as far as William was concerned, he wanted to watch Television.

“my goodness Bill”, ‘William’ he thought, “your wet man”, she changed and washed William, then with a hoist, tucked him into a freshly made bed, he was protesting, the Nurse asked “what honey?”, William lay still, he was looking at the ceiling, he could not express how he felt so he gave up,“well goodnight honey, sleep well” Nurse said, William glanced at the time, it was quarter to eight. He lay still, awake, feeling sad. Feeling alone.

Sunday, 15 March 2020

Killer

A passion for life with a story to tell, unlikeliest confidence to chat to every girl,  he is lonely, hidden, insecure at fault, incredibly dangerous with desire that’s wrought, a dinner with one, a drink in an inn, gifts of exquisitiveness thrown in the bin, living with failure, history of sin, forger of a craft extraordinarily din.
The headline reads some tragic news, another sad story adding to the blues....... Nineteen year old, drowns in a bath, silenced with a rope in midst of a laugh, newspaper reports the tragedy and guile of a young lady of misfortune, crazy and wild.

A demeanour bright, clothes to match then torn off in the midst of a tragic fight, Walker of fashion, lady of the night, met the young man, she thought he was great but never realised that he was full of such hate, bottle of gin later, refusal of sex, as if his soul is encarcerated by some kind of hex, he had a mind of troubled beguile, paranoia felt a hated refrain, finished the girl with no thought of pain, strangled and drown the confident lady, releasing her gain.

Encountering the situation again and again, wallowing in guilt not likely without sin, desperate for passionate love to be won, the need to be a persons number one, incredibly unlikely to enjoy such fun, always wanting an unwanted run, love cannot be strangled or chained up with need, that kind of desire will only end one way, all alone with another death on another day, he could never achieve anything in any way.

Investigation, closing the net, they wanted to teach him a lesson he’d never forget, cornering the suspect by a bridge, he climbed high to escape attention, “come on down”, “we will look after you”, ‘I can’t take anymore’ he said, tying a rope above his head, ‘I never meant to, but they laughed’ , “who laughed”, ‘all of them, no one cared’ I just wanted love’. “Come down and we will help you”, born to a mother on drugs and a father shot dead by the feds, the young man tragically died that day, a piercing sound rang out from below, not the police who shot him down but the young girls father who’s daughter had drowned, there he swung, not a sound, No one knew his name or cared, come what may and one may ask, why should they?.

Friday, 13 March 2020

UK Lockdown 

Go beserk, have a rest, go to work, get it off your chest, cough all day, invincible perks, look like deaths door in a glamorous shirt, a week in quarantine, stay indoors with your partner breathing rapid and poor, inhale eucalyptus through your e-cigarette, drink some gin, you might forget, science speaks of braving it out, before you find out what it’s all about, when at last we reach the peak, stay indoors for another week maybe die from the havoc it wreaks, maybe grow a defensive streak unpopular popularity requiring a sleep affecting the weak, the poor, the old, visit a festival, go on, be bold, retrospectively cold, infected by the thousands, ten fold.



Tuesday, 10 March 2020

Passing on 

In the land of nowhere, where nobody goes, featureless darkness, where nothing grows, I can see a mist far ahead, does this mean, I have woken up dead, have I entered another plain?, where nothing is the same and everything has changed, I feel nothing, I am left without shame, no noticeable pain, is this the grace I sought, yet without any gain?, is this hell or is this heaven?, consumed by a quake, soulless, completely forgotten. 

Thursday, 20 February 2020

Contemplating Sleep

Closing my eyes, mind lingering for ages, going over the day, it’ proclaiming lies, I am punished day by day frequently remembering the anger, ‘no’ hatred towards thyselve including the varied ways that I am mistreated, often relinquishing responsibility for such actions abated, why then, oh why am I so cut by terrible happenings unrelated?, struggling, tormentiously, psychologically anxious, ending the evening in serative sedation.  

My heart contemplates every shred and ordered slice, lashing contentiously at thy soul causing it to weep deeply without release, throat tightening around vocal chords garrotting words expressed from an abundance of self destruction, a life bound by sorrow, alone as a child at play while friends form without delay, not being in or part of a team or so it would seem, ejecting every possibility of ever being accepted or ridiculous as it may seem, actually spending days being ridiculed and outcast, isolated, hardly ever seen. 

Growing slowly into a man, wound tightly by invisible chains, fearful of making incorrect decisions thus not making correct ones, a whole life of penetrating excursions into unknown movements, untraceable patterns, regrettable truths, a person reflecting worthlessness, yet a moral bounty of honesty, is this the person that I have become or the person that I have always been, hiding beneath an impeccable camouflage of hidden persona’, then ageing, acceptance of change as it derives, fearful of none, knowing the fullness of life, children to continue the genealogy with the knowledge of god in their lives.


Tuesday, 18 February 2020

A day out in Dorset

Narrow twisting turning roads, flooding deep fords, revolutionary action, driving like a lord, then engine stalls, engine stalls

Damp reality, clouding the mind, feverish storm, falling behind, slipping the slurry, on a childish grind, elasticated tyres, crash then die, just crash then die.

There she was strolling along, looking at the views, an impetuous sea gull lands on her head, the damn sign says it must not be fed, it steals an Ice cream from her hands, an ice cream from her hands.

On another day, maybe in spring, the sun would shine in Lyme Regis, alas not today, still picturesquely charming, the sea rolls on alarming, there’s only one set of young having some fun, surfing the waves, riding on high, riding so high.

It darkens now in this damp dreary place, towards the end of ‘Storm Dennis’, when it is time to go home, pretty as a picture, there’s one little face that brightens the day, he brightens everyday.

(Especially his Mum and Dads)





Monday, 3 February 2020

Klixd’ An alien in the park

In Greenwich Park where it’s stark, in the middle of the night, deserted and dark. The gates are locked, the boundary is sound, not one visitor is there to be found. The keeper keiron works a night shift, he is usually fast asleep, it’s easy with a kebab, a small tipple to the lip, sometimes its a pizza or a curry from the delli, followed by a sound of rupterous snoring, with an over filled belly.

 There is one fella, I haven’t yet said, his name is klixd but calls himself Fred, he is eighteen inches tall. Translucent blue eyes and curly wurly hair, matches his crimson red, shoes made from glittered leather wool, he has a small round bed and a small round stool, lives within a tree, five feet beneath the roots, on this hundred year old oak almost thirty foot tall.

Alongside the gravel path, with his magic stick of Oak the little man Fred began to choke while swallowing an Acorn, he waved his stick at his tightened throat, he opened his mouth, making the sound of a goat, the Acorn flew across the beautiful lush green lawn, it hit a deer, a forlornly fawn, straight in the head, knocking it out, there it lay sleeping quietly until dawn.

The little man ‘Klixd’ had crashed landed hard, while he was sleeping in his little alien craft, he found himself happy not to be dead, instead he was embarrassed to find he’d wet the bed, he immediately chose the most important action ever, washed his pants in our dreadful rainy weather, then switched on the radio to contact ‘Glixcy’ his nine inch friend as small as a pixy.

Fred gave up as the radio sparked an arc, he decided despondently to blow up his little craft, he ate an acorn on the ground of an oak to prepare a magic stick as he’d lost his magic cloak, he broke off a twig from the nearby tree then thought ‘I’ll blow the breath of fruit inside of me’, knowing that would help to be able to survive, some would say a little contrived but it was so good that he was still alive.

The very next adventure that he set himself on, was to find a place that he could call home, he looked at the Oak, so old and so tall, then crafted a door for people who are small, invisible to the eye, so others may not find, a man asleep in his pyjama hide, fred made a hollow within the tree, then spun around to chisel it deep, feeling so tired he needed a good sleep. 

A bed and a stool was to come next, he shook the stick in a rounded flex, poppety pop like a banger race,  they crashed from above and fell into place.   A bed and a stool created in Oak, a perfect little gift for this talented little bloke, exhausted all over from the crash and the fight, fred had, had enough of this dreadful night, so he took himself to bed and set down his stick as a little hazy, homely glowing light with a flicker slick, flick.

Fred stayed a while, some would call it years, to him it was just a glacxy of a Glarkxen. (Meaning only one year), it was more time than planned, he grew a long beard, it changed colour when he cheered, another colour when sad, all colours of the rainbow, but red when he was mad, he never stopped looking for a way to go home even after all the fun of playing in the snow. 

Walking to the river to wash his stick, he observed a magazine that was rather thick, on the front page, some interesting news about ‘Greenwich Observatory’ with its telescope and fantastic Views, Fred became light headed to find it was so near, he quickly waved his stick with excitement and fear to grab a lift from the same earlier Deer that felt compelled to at once assist, without any doubt and close to a tear Fred charged forward with the bewildered deer, in his voice, excitement and cheer.

It felt overwhelming to see his home planet again, 3rd planet on the right of Jupiter, yet further back by two and a half million light year’s, poor old Fred, he could not hold back the tears, overcome by the thought of his little boy all alone in the pit of cheeslegrime, Fred was heartfelt proud, he thought ‘I just want to go home to be with that glooxcy son of mine’, his  mother giver died some deckens of time ago in the grizzlegum wars meaning (war of women), I ask you, who would have a war about slimming ? , only glarkxen women.

I should lock up before I’m found, leaving the building, not making a sound, Fred noticed there was a light on in a shed next door, he quietly peeked through the window, there was a large man, head on the table having a snore, what a dreadful noise, exhaled from his hooter, the only noise that Fred heard like that, was his old mother giver’s looter, (a looter being a slugger that ironed out her figure). 

There no was some food on the table laying around, it looked better than what he’d been eating, food he’d found on the ground’ he sneaked inside, using his magic stick for a key, first he stooped in to the corner for a little green wee, then quietly climbed onto the table, he put the food in his bag, he found more in a cold box he’d opened the word ‘fridge’ in chrome on the front, some odd things he had found, something called M-ilk, something called Pie, something called yoghurt that splashed in his eye. Fred put all things in his bag, then left the shed without saying goodbye.

As soon as he arrived home, Fred took some of the human food, Pork Pie that he ate caused him to break out in an almighty sweat, he had some cheese that tasted similar to a food back on his planet called skeexse, then he drank a glass of a strange white liquid called M-ilk, it caused him to be rather scxilt which as you can guess, meaning rather tipsy to the hilt, straight into bed dizzy in his head, Fred slept for a few days, waking on Wednesday in some kind of a haze, his eyes a glaze, on this fine summer day he decided to have a lay-in until Thursday.

Week on week Fred often visited quiet and meek, to the Observatory and shed, then going late to bed, usually tipsy as the other week, drinking his M-ilk and eating his pie, munching some spaghetti, yoghurt in the eye, Kieron had noticed so much food disappearing, he thought to himself, ‘if only I had better hearing, He changing the battery on his defunct aid, then set out a plan well laid.

While pretending to sleep, head on the table, Food everywhere, Ham, cheese, Pizza galore, Kieron heard a noise shuffling through the door, it was a little man singing to himself a little dainty, words he did not understand - ‘Nixt waxys grux ext’, ‘Soxtys groixcd baxt neext’ meaning -#now what’s there to grab to eat, something sweet would be so neat#, as Fred stepped up to grab a piece of pizza, keiron lifted his head and with shock grabbed Fred, “it’s so nice to meet ya”. 

Fred went berserk, dropping his magic stick he gave Keiron such a thumping kick, alas it was without Joy as Keiron believed he had grabbed a little boy and not a small alien man as tight as he can, he held Fred steadfast, Fred’s strength could not outlast the mighty muscle of ‘Keiron O’Shay’, Keiron waited for him to calm down so he could have his say but Fred was sunken in dismay, it would take a while until Keiron would say, “calm down or it will be a delay that will keep you here until day”, Fred responded with a cry that sounded like “oooxayay”.

Eventually Keiron allowed Fred to have his magic stick after whining ixciii, ixciii, pointing at its way, causing it to flip, he put it to his ears, saying “ixciii oox” on each ear, then Fred cried reduced to tears, he sucked the end of the stick next, he became angry and vexed, out burst forth from his mouth, “let me go home, you ugly whoman, spixiii spix”, keiron replied “now that’s where we are in a fix”, “tell me who you are and we will go far”.

Fred informed Keiron “my name is Klixd, I see a whoman mother giver, walking a big furry shixp Daxs on a lead thingy”, she called ‘Fred’, I liked it, so I am Fred” He explained everything about himself then cautiously asked “pleased your sir,do not make me dead”, Keiron replied, “I will not kill you, have some faith in me and you will see, a better place to pee”. 

Fred explained about his craft, his feeling of being daft, his antics with the deer and the tree, he himself who pee’d, his son who is alone and having no fun and also asked Keiron if he could have another Hot Cross bun, he spoke of how he’ll never get home to the planet third from Jupiter, the radio on his craft that arced exir xir, had died, Keiron a Citizen band radio fan, told Fred he had another plan.

Keiron met Fred the very next night, in his shed he turned on the light, on the table was a Kebab, some wires, some bulbs, some things that were fab, in the middle a radio thingy, it had squelch, a light, a thing called a Mike, Citizen Band was Keirons hobby, he looked at Fred with a promising smile, “will this help or will it only reach a mile?. Fred waved his magic little stick and once more it seemed to do the trick, a squixy fixy thing occurred, when strange things on the radio, could be heard.

Fred listened intently to CB Radio noise, he could here Glarksen voices saying the military is waiting poised, to attack the planet Earth without a delay, for capturing their brave friend ‘Klixd’ and keeping him away, Fred replied bravely, squeezing hard on the key, “hmm’ interestingly, when will that be?”, the voice came back, speaking Glarkxen glooxy Tongue, “nine O’clock tonight we’ll be taking a run.

Fred relayed the troublesome news to keiron standing near, “never mind that” he replied “let’s have the Kebab and a beer”, they settled down to eat but Fred was in a dread, he knew he was in some trouble when choking on his bread, he jumped up immediately and keyed the CB hard, he spoke in Glarkxen language, “iox grooux ti krouxx gri card” and “ix grox ti Klixd, Eex ti roxe xowe”. Which in a roundabout way said he’s free to go home now.

The radio replied “soox soo Di minxsissos”, wait ten minutes you do not have a choice!. Fred waited patiently for a slow but quick reply then on the radio came a gooxi grammar, “see you at Big Ben Clock at three O’clock, goodbye”.

Keiron had a rusty car that sped along the embankment while waiting for the lights to change Fred looked on in amazement, a big clock shown the time high in the sky, Keiron knew it was a time on which they could rely, ten to three Big Ben displayed when the car abruptly halted, running to Parliament square, leaving Fred and Keiron exhorted. 

Three O’clock came and no sign of any craft but all of a sudden at ten past three, Fred began to laugh, some lights grew large above Big Ben, growing closer by the minute, whizzy Fizzy Glarkxen lights with Glarkxen people in it, the ship was extremely large it filled up Parliament Square, crushing a few bigger trees it was a cheek to dare, lots of Londoners looking on could do no more than stare. 

The great door slid open from the crazy lighted and round ship, the leader speaking through a speaker saying “hello Earthlings”, “toodlepip”. lots of Glarkxian people came walking down the slope, Fred was sobbing loudly with happy, expectant hope, then stepping through the crowd a familiar sight indeed, his son ‘fluxi wix” was plainly there to see, running up and in the arms of his little bouyant lad, sobbing even loudly now as if he was real sad.

finally the time came to forever say goodbye, keiron was invited to ride to Glarkxen with Fred, way up high, Keiron declined but said to Fred “please, always stay in touch” I have grown fond of you and like you very much. Soon the Glarkxens all stepped back into their craft, Fred was pleased that he was going home to be in his pod at last, “goodbye keiron my friend” I promise to keep in touch, I have enjoyed your friendship and food very, very much.

The door soon closed tightly, on the fuzzy lighted ship, then slowly lifted off the ground to sounds of ‘oopsxy gsssh’ , away the ship passed, too soon, out of the Earths atmosphere, all that could be heard behind was the sound of the Londoners cheer. 

Wednesday, 15 January 2020

Blackheath

Refined and wealthy, reminiscent of a great Britain with a glorious past, stooped in monarchistic history, a warm aura of familiar peace, houses bedded in by acid rain, orchestral educational chime, surrounded by the mean of time, great observatory view of the sky, blackened soil under foot Rhododendrons pleasing to the eye, a peasants revolt would be welcome here, if you were born long ago, in another year, now the grand piano, untuned by rust, dark green ivy squeezes brick to dust, exonerated with forgiveness, John the Baptist church, loved  by ancient duty, Blackheath quaint all over, since my memories of a child, sadly now lost in transition with the traffic of lorries, cars and buses running through wild.



Tuesday, 14 January 2020

Lillies 

I observed Lillies in the garden grounds, elegantly growing, spectacular natural gold blooms, such a shame, a week later perished, red beetle bug the size of a penny munched the stems, until there wasn’t any.


Love Life

W hen a person says “I LOVE LIFE”  Yes, they enjoy living, love their work  Then when by hi’self, there is nothing to love Wife confesses de...