Wear a poppy?

Though I forget not, the least I can give

succumbed to the moment of loved ones distress, I weep with heart fullness address.

Every son blindly into war, courageous at a score, death doth not become a pure boys heart, he never so young was meant to depart.

Adorn a poppy not for the pleasure of conflict, nor for the conflict of pleasure, nor for the worth of having a measure. Adorn a poppy if one must for the innocence of a youthful gust.

If one must die, a necessary cause or just, not a decision of a greedy must

fight against repression of soulful will

Not the chance of a financial kill

we have enough ornaments,

on a window sill.

This day gives for a child who blindly gave his life, for the husband of a grieving wife, for the soldier who lived and died by the knife, one cannot repair a heart with mournful blight.

Same year, worlds apart!

1935 when you were born,

like a fall from grace, you captured us all.

you loved everyone, everyone loved you,

precious as a child, sensitive and brave, Doodle bugs dropping wave after wave, you got me through when I heard King Creole, I had a clean home not a shit hole.

The Angels were singing 'Love me tender' when you went with God to his big wide home, you could be peaceful in the valley and quite unknown.

judgement day would not come for you that day, for you were welcome in heaven anytime, come what may.

you were generous, caring, without fault, you sang as though you were an angel 

I heard as your biggest fan, I have always felt 'Lost', even more now your not here, now I am a man, I find it hard to stand

yet I will!, If it is gods plan, I will stay here till' my end to meet with you again

an Elvis fan and a loving son, most wonderful woman that lived in my eyes, 'My Mum'.

The November Line

Witness the intensity of planets this week

perception of a highway into heaven

Path to the earth, distant from the moon

destination to the stars, elapse too soon

"step up, step up" each person see

a serendipitous shift in ones destiny

Blackness' o'er the land and wide 

ubiquitous, far-reaching, sound

content to shred the fear to hide

bloodened be the stain abound

inception be an eerie place

birthright of the Satan race

grace' take us fast in our sleep

deliver us swiftly from the world

Oh'liberate us from the Devils keep

as lambs we follow into hell

the teacher knows his pupils well.

I write coz

I write to the moonlight, I write to the stars,                   
I write about sorrow, I write about scars,                
I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad,

I write about feelings that drive me half mad,

most of all I write to be me, 

to travel to places, set my life free

I write to Christians, aethiests and Jews,

Consistently write the wrong words to you

the featureless face hides a mannequins grin, 

the soulless echo of words deep within,

I write of the teenagers in romantic sin

party animal people pissed up with gin

mostly I write for the gluttonous bin

now look at the fucking state I am in

Troubled Sleep

I live, work, breathe, go through the motions, unnequivocally unchanging 

on the narrow path tiresomely steep

yet I'm  always asleep when I weep

rattled by the things I see and hear

almost an inclusion, a sight 

a narrow corridor, a peep

most people are confoundly irritated when I am around, perhaps that's why I'm always asleep when I weep

I've heard it before absorbed from generations of ancient stories given to us by centuries past through the ground

I'm far too stupid to be profound

Grandad died with a knowledge 

he has taken it with him to keep

Yet to me it's a repetitive sound

maybe that's why I'm always asleep when I weep, too tired to carry on

I always sleep then I weep

Pine table

Nostrils saviour the smell of pine

turn, cut, smoothen out

craft of a hand steady

skill is detail

a bowl

fruit

table

Inanimate 

collecting dust

thirty years a tree

thirty years for me

rotten sweet fruit

mouldy apple

soft plum

sandpaper 

return to wood

senses are mine

the faint smell of pine

polish with antique wax

put it on the big brown table

fruit in a bowl sit down and relax

Innocent smiles😌

Soggy vegetables, worn out shoes

detestable conditions the air is dry,

cockroaches;crunching sound on polystyrene tiles, 

damp squalid walls

hear the joy of innocent smiles

draconian blue, poppy red,

dust in the lungs of a perpetual youth,

moulded rice cakes,

mucused slime of trailed slugs suggesting a pattern, 

concrete cancer in towers, 

high rise fall from sloth

ignorant minds, innocent smiles

smoothed green fur surrounding metal windowed frames,

condensational graffitied glass

a nose resting all eyes seeing 

view of a spectacular city

gun goes "bang bang", innocent smiles

wheezing, sneezing, depressed,

bronchial pneumonia 

tear stained tshirt,smell of death consumed stale oxygen for the last time

a new born baby, an innocent smile

Have you ever?

"Aah bless them they are so lovely, look at them sitting quietly in the corner, turn the music up Dave, let's enjoy this rave"

"Aaah, are you alright loveys?, have you got a drink?", "what would you like?", "a lager and a sherry, Aaah alright", "DAVE GET THE OLD COUPLE IN THE CORNER A LAGER AND A SHERRY" AND HURRY UP COZ IM FEELING MERRY"

"that was good what a laugh, now I'm gonna have a bath!, watch that old couple don't fall asleep, I'm sure he's had too many whiskys, oih don't you get frisky!"

"Aaah have you had fun?, perhaps you should go home now, it's getting late! 

there you go, don't forget to shut the front gate, now they've gone we can party great"

"it was a bit young for them oldies, who invited them Dave?, they should be in bed by ten!. you did you daft aper, come and give me a hug then" and listen to the New year by the bells of Big Ben

Trials and tribulations of a narcissist

An awkward end a deliberate lie

forcing a bid to ask the question...why?

tattered, shred, a worn out bed

Obliviously blind

must be soft in the head!

The cheese has turned a revolting smell

inside the corpse holds a rotting shell 

half a bottle of corked valpollicella 

fragments on the carpet,

I could not tell her

shattered, whimsical to the end

a broken glass that could not mend

Relativity holds the key

it must be something withinside of he

a damaged chromosome

mutilated gene

something so hidden

that cannot be seen

A flowers strength, veins up the stem

neatly ironed trousers, a damaged hem

trod on by shoes covered in shit

a narrow point of view, steep sided pit

On the edge of a mountain

through snow covered hills

a blizzard forecast

photographs are stills

Movement described by an artists hand

the chills moved on to the pleasant land

seven archangels a musical theme

welcome once more

to the promised dream

Northern Line

Observing the tunnel, from a midnight view, contemplating his dinner a mighty beef stew

The angel ahead seen as a light, signals are good, green shows alright, platform edge clear, passengers move back, except for one man looking down on the track, he did not respond to the hoot of the horn, unknown to the driver he wished he weren't born

brakes screeching hard stop with a thud, one carriage past, on the screen there is blood

"stay in the cab" the controller advised

driver distraught,  reacting quite brave, somewhat contrived

a selfish act if they have their say,    

that inconsiderate person destroyed our day

try to see it the other side, a family destroyed, a heartbreak for a bride

sad loss for a girl as beautiful as the sky

deserves more contemplation than a whimper and sigh

 a tragedy for many, a soul gone wrong

life is so precious live it for long

The Carpenters Arms

Truman light ale methodically pumped into a glass, whisky at 1/6th of a Gill always politely passed,

Yet this quaint little pub on the corner had a secret in its past

Painted deep blue colour on the window pane, sign above the door that says please come again

Mum counting change backwards with a smile on her face, Bill has one more whisky chaser almost a disgrace

The Landlady would ask for help in the small dark cellar, Mum would nod approval, if i had the chance to tell her

Bottles down the chute stacked into crates, 'enjoyed life then' working at eight, remarking happily to my mates.

Childhood recollections of good times, at a last, such a shame those days have gone along with the working class. 

life is Cruel, uncaring, obtuse, somehow crass

Yet this quaint little pub on the corner had a secret in its past.

Suffering

The will to aquire strength lacking the ability to persevere evades an aching  heart that beats irratically within oneself,

a mind so disturbed  causing irrational depression, paranoia beyond any radical reasoning although it is true to be a victim without any convincing gain, a continual burden, repetitiveness in pain 

Perceptional hatred of an unjust society creating ruptured social skills requiring one to feel as if to kill, however turning in on oneself, a loathing of a pessimistic kind, raging internal destruction

a death within ones mind

depreciative national pride for the foolishly deceived, baying angrily at the suffering of unjustly treated 

if heaven will, dying would serve thee well

Forgiven for a mortal sin released from hell.

Just like James Dean

Dear Cousin Vinnie desired to be mean

hard as nails, run with the gang

die very young just like James Dean

Yet to me he was the kindest person that's ever been seen

Dear Cousin Vinnie in with the scene

one look with silence all it would need, pretty girls attracted to the dream

hard as nails and twice as mean

Yet to me he was the kindest person that's ever been seen

Dear cousin Vinnie always too keen

to be in hell,

take some drugs to go and sell

fit in with the sort of scum there could be                       die very young just like James Dean

Yet to me he was the kindest person that's ever been seen

Dear Cousin Vinnie the most intelligent at school 

robbed a bank with a gun to be seen as cool 

seven years incarcerated in a cell painted green

Yet to me he was the kindest person that's ever been seen

Dear Cousin Vinnie convinced by his own zeal injected some drugs, from his girlfriend would steal 

lost lots of weight forgot his last meal

wished to die young just like James Dean

Yet to me he was the kindest person that's ever been seen

Dear Cousin Vinnie on the edge of blame

living in a fantasy, thought he knew the game, eloquently exaggerated his own fame, smartly dressed to pristine 

loved by my mum Doreen 

Yet to me he was the kindest person that's ever been seen

Dear Cousin Vinnie was alone

In his room, on his bedside lay some fine white powder and liquid on a spoon 

unable to comprehend, before' he was so clean although he wanted to die young just like James Dean

to me he was the kindest person that ever was seen.

A witty remark

A witty remark spoken with haste

deeply insensitive irrational waste

where it came from was evil bespoke

for the speaker was usually a very nice bloke, thoughtful of others never unkind

weeps at the news, feels for the blind

so where did it come from it certainly was steep to say such a horrible thing from the deep, apologies made forgiven at once,  though conscience will punish for being a dunce, never again will he speak with such farce, balance will come and have the last laugh.

?

Harsh as a blistered wind

frozen to a natural blue

It is times like this 

When I think of you 

Drawn in deeply 

protective stance

wish you were here 

for one more dance

Solitude with loneliness

Loneliness in a crowd

crossing over the line 

covered in a shroud

Feel like shouting 

"look I am here"

it's easier to sleek down in a chair

Ignore the world

as if it's not here

Everything's heavenly

contradiction yet true

It will never be the same here

until I am with you. 

The Poet

performance without an audience

written with a broken heart

words of love that may have gone

though never meant to part

gregarious in his nature

with a Hidden depth 

articulated feelings, from a soul inept

humility as a warning

sentences on a page

conceptual with the detail

affectation into rage

so scribe the written pasture

the beauty of the beast

place it on a page of hell

for whoever cares the least.

Oppressed regression

content to suffer, no person has known

Contempt is all that has ever been shown

persecuted in execution, defeatist in life

beat with a chain, cut with a knife. 

fear is the bravest strength in ones sight

Pleasure in pain to howl with delight

Love Lost

How fragile life is

irreversible enough to live it free

freedom is a condition 

not everyone can see

whether in your heart 

your minds eye be

I missed the moment, 

for you are no longer here

you filled my life 

with warmth and cheer

forevermore on and on

Brobdingnagian world  

with pockets of space 

darkened by the missing

presence in your grace

I remember every detail

of a beautiful face

burdened not to show love

a gift given from the Lord above,

unpleasantly some find it a task

hidden rather within a mask

not appear to be seen weak

they do not know it is a gift

given to the celestial meek.

Pretence knows not why

they fear to begin

hence unhappy features

are saddened within

accepting love be ya tortured sin

Devil Child

A shadow of a fox, sly though he

contaminated by his smug triviality

devious to the chore and willful

to the soul he be

Merciless killing, slaughter of the lamb

abundantly clear yet hidden beneath

decieving through his unimbiguousness

hell to you or thee

The mind of Oxford where the rich boy doth play,

true to nature inconceivable sway

inequality for the helpless

a soothsayer way

Oh foolish nation opened the mind

to the cruelest mean of potent unkind

hell be damned a place to be

Sordid, wicked, irrationality

kindness, a revolutionary way 

the struggle onwards will see

I’m not the same, or am I ?

Life's like a dungeon as far as I recall from a very young age to the moment we are tall, trapped by the rules and wants and despised as a fool.

The medicine was a spanking in the very first week, only five years old some warmth I would seek,  it taught me not to cry for mum, to be silent and meek.

Alone in my childhood life I craved to be liked, do anything for friends even steal a bike, rub mud on the walls for someone called Mike but never really had friends 

Never knew what it was like.

Secondary years came along I would often feel sick every day was hell to get a lot of stick bullied for being quiet and often afraid, the cane and the children felt the bloody same. 

I remembered junior school with a fondness now, I learnt quite well though I did not know how.

secondary school interestingly fun for a lark, two years of hell from a boy called mark, at 13 years old after a fight it lit a fuse so to create a spark I would often bunk off and go to the park.

If your the kind of person that doesn't fit in, believe in me when I say it's not a sin

a burden you'll feel forever and a day

At least you'll have independent thoughts and be happy that way.

I'll not follow a crowd, not be one of the pack, I'll take a lot of hardship but eventually fight back, I'm caught in the web of deception, not afraid of hard work but then there's not a day goes by where responsibility will I shirk.

One hope that I wish to leave behind, is that I love my children, was considerate and kind, if you cannot be good then at least not be blind.