Hon....oops

A bear went a wandering in the forest one day, craving some honey to eat.                  
While searching the trees for some sweet grub, a Honey Bee he did meet.                        
“Hello I’m Busy” the honey Bee did say, “hello I’m Grizzly” I have come a long way,
“what are you looking for on this sunny day” said the little busy bee in his little buzzy way,
“I’m looking for Honey, way up in a tree, I must find some now as I’m hungry you see,
my tummy is rumbling it’s been empty for weeks, there’s some delicious berries though it’s honey I seek”, the little honey bee could feel the bears need, but destruction of the hive would be sad indeed,
so he said rather meekly, “I am Just a  Buzzing bee, I am collecting pollen to make some sweet Hon....oops, I’m ever so busy”, “if you want some honey to fill your belly, it’s no good searching in trees, look for it in jars, to get the tastiest sweet flavour, thick golden honey, what a treat.
The buzzing bee said “goodbye Grizzly”, as he flew away,  “hope to see you again some day”.
The small bears face dropped, in a sad way, his eyes averted from his destiny,
“all I wanted was a little honey, Buzz off little Bumble bee” ,
 “go back to your sweet hon... oops”. The little bear said, then made his way home and went straight into bed.

The Cruise

A porthole to look out of, crest upon crest, wave to the ocean, spot the whale, it’d be a shock if he waved back now. little grey seal barking like mad, wearing his bow tie, what a cad.

Crescent of the moon will be gone too soon, replaced by the shade of a cow, riding on a spoon, the stars are dancing until dawn, He’ll be sleeping until noon. 

Punishment with self loathing, bloated torment, the Head Chef is smoking on the port, for him it is the end of the last resort, thousands overfed, fattened on roast pork, Mutton and Jam, ridiculing the savoury beef and calling it a sham. 

A view is beyond where the sky meets the sea, ignorant with wealth, sitting in the sun, drowning on whisky, he ‘bows down’, “yes sir’ says the courteous Philippino sage, pouring more scotch on a meagre wage.

Diamonds sparkle on the withered old hand, beautiful sounds of classical genre from the onboard band, away into the night her lovely gown glistens, dancing a waltz with the braided   Captain Sissons.

What a scene when the ship comes in, friends and family standing nigh, cheering and waving flags raised high, in all its splendour this marvellous boat, wearing a grand whitened coat. Passengers pleased to be ashore, not sure why, how or what they went there for.

A question of safety

One fine evening while strolling through the park, I lost track of time and it began getting dark, my thoughts went astray to another summer day, ‘ we were having a picnic under a tree’, some awesome memories came rushing back to me, while enjoying the flavour of a delicious pork pie, I looked way up into the sky, the tree began shaking vigorously, the wind blowing high, a damn conker fell from its sty and landed straight, into my left eye.

Blinded through the month of July, I felt like a one eyed spy with a monocular kind of view, like a pirate without a Parrot, a stew without a carrot, with my one good eye, I was only able to amble, while passing a bramble, I did narf cause a racket when I caught my blooming jacket, tearing from the razor sharp thorns, so not funny at all, tugging hard to get away, a thorn broke off in the knuckle of my finger and there it will linger, throbbing away but there it will stay until another day.

By order of the doctor in the inaugural part of August, the sun at its peak, a rest I would seek, feeling tired and meek, I fell asleep, I woke up at two, cream well overdue, burnt to a crisp like I’d been on a hob, my chest so sore was beginning to throb, a cold shower at night but I could not sleep with my eye, the thorn and a blister on my chest, I could not get any rest.

The next day did not come fast as I lay awake all night, I wasn’t fit to last, Getting up with careful thoughts put on my T-shirt then my shorts , I decided to have a nice gentle walk, arranging with a friend to see a show, though first I went for a pint in Bow, after one, two or three, I stood up to go, a delivery of barrels rolling down slow, I did not realise and did not know the next step I took I fell down the hole, Landing in the cellar hard, with no time for a calling card, I ripped my arm on a peg , so bloody and red, with my other cuts, burns and bruises, bump on my head, I’ve yet to mention, my broken left leg.

The moral of the story is easy when said, if you don’t want to have all these injuries, burnt, blind, with a broken leg, damaged clothes, nearly dead, the best thing that you could do is not to get up, stay asleep and stay in bed.

Wake up World

Silence the heavy birds, the rusty old rails, floating engines empty with the raising of the sails, manufactured motor cars an average of thirty grand, Carbon dioxide levels raining acid on our land.

Rain forests survival, essential for the earth, destroying every living creature in this open planned Girth, deforestation mass, a de-oxygenation catch, light another bonfire with another wooden match.

I’d like to tell you a farce of a boy that could not breathe, lived with chronic asthma, ‘til the age of twenty three, Mum was a Smoker, Dad was a drunk, Coal completely smokeless but his lungs were covered with gunk.

The government are clever, making fossil fuels Clean, Standard healthy Tax free driving for the wealthiest and mean, the poorest are to blame so make them pay more, cruelest  unnaive trick by the rotten to the core.

There’s not much fish left to buy or send, the use of plastics, coming to an end, Oceans of filth, decayed the reef foul, the death of capitalism must be now, the greed be over or the planet will die, there will be no home for the children in the future, no clouds left in the sky.

All will undo.

The world turns, it gathers moss, green as a winter, white with frost, two wars won, more have been lost, it always take war to measure the cost, social justice, a time for care, not to count  the pennies, living in fear.

Past generations, old and alone, the plenty suffer the Tories bare bone, rich do not care their greed beyond measure, unemployable and disabled are not living in pleasure, see what you have when the world reacts back, a rusty broken gate, a mark on your back. 

freedom is a feeling of penultimate joy for every Man,Woman, girl and boy, not the few that consider themselves better, not the wealthy and travelled go getter, nor the power crazed ridiculously smug, give the milk to the young carrying an empty jug. 

Race is a colour not fiend or friend, inside each person is blood that will blend, death to hypocrisy, closing of walls, open the borders, see the hatred fall, help the poorest and freely walk tall. 

patriciosviews.co.uk

Enjoy if you like, if you don’t just read, I hope you find something to gather your thoughts. 

Love is life, be happy, live it in fullness, remember to share it, for happiness is infectious, Love is forever. 

Faith for strength

There’s a black monster spinning a web, clawing at each vital part of living organism, it kills as it grows, smothering healthy organs and tissue with its putrid decay taking life from its unsuspecting host, tiny tentacles deep in flesh  leaving blackness in its place, eventually the host dies like my Mum, my Grandparents,three out of four people will also.

There is a light received as good news, sad is not all bad, miracle cures are few and far between, yet they are discovered, new combinations are found to unlock this cruel menace, survival is there, try to consider all that is great with life , love everything that is possible to love, stay positive, while fighting, new drugs are found everyday, more people are winning their personal fight,  then one day we will win over forever, for all, Cancer Will die with the same destructive force that it brought to the life that lives. No more will future generations suffer, those that have lived and those that have died will be the legacy to finally destroy it.

My prayer:

 Please God, help in finding cures for these evil diseases, destroying lives and breaking hearts everywhere. Help families to come to terms with the sadness and loss of loved ones, to know that they are with god and have the final win with eternal life. Amen.

Matthew 11:28-29

 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart,                          

and you will find rest for your souls.

Man, Woman or Man?

Man, what and who is Man?. 

Is Man a Woman or is Man a Man, striving through life to achieve what Man can.

Man is a sharing, caring species, with the ability to love for life, however sometimes chooses to be deceitful, on the edge of a knife even to the destruction of husband or wife.

Does man know him or herself, deep and affectionate, sworn devotion to the core, courageously held to defend the others  honour for forever more then turned by a fleeting glint of an eye, becoming wickedly, wild, sexy, yet gone, for sure. 

Man enters the darkness, for darkness is intriguing, interesting, an unknown to the adventurer, bewildering as space, searching for what?, who?. Go at a steady pace, for in the darkness one can become lost forever from the human race. 

Man scared to utter a word for getting it wrong so says nothing to stay silent and strong, yet alone without success, Think what man thinks or say what man says, seems to be to bold an adventure to be on, so stay silent and strong, live alone, for very long.

Shallow beats the heart of man, looking cool in a white Sudan or hard at work in his or her  white van, earning a wage to pay the mortgage, electric, water, what a hard slogger, maybe has ten pounds left for a bottle of prosseco or a cheap bottle of vodka.

So what is a man?, striving through life to achieve what man can, a slave to the rich or a traitor to the poor?, or boasting of their earthly wealth that others see as a bore. Maybe the man we speak of is not in a groove just another person on the move, not fitting in the popular scene, in the dark, never ever seen.  

What is Man without Man or Woman as Man, Man needs Man or Woman as Man for achievement as one to do what ever Man can.

Where are friends

Where are the friends which once sat at your table, eating in all their splendour that they could enable. Smiling at the jokes or the tales of fable, true friendship from the foundation up to the gable.

Where are the friends who spoke so truly, always around, worrying you so gruelly, then came the time you required their love, the guidance once offered they denied so cruelly.

Where are the friends offering advice, a mutual rescinded required device, given to them in their saddened need, once forgotten to return the good deed.

Where are the friends now you are old, always there to keep you on your toes, fighting for you against callous foes, in an imagination that never existed, duplicitous busybodies, bitterly twisted.

Where are your friends, now your alone, waiting so silently, listening for the phone, watching television the company it brings, X Factors on,  an angel on it sings.

Where are the friends caring at night, left in solitude at home, you give up the fight, lovers sadly departed a while ago, rocked your world to and thro’, then no more, all of a sudden it’s your turn to go, finish of life, all done and alone.

Clissold Park

I lay there one night, memories Came rushing back as a book of photographs, the scene laid out,Clissold Park, the day we played Tennis. Crazy Golf, the Park Keeper shouted get off the grass, we would stay all day, until it was dark.

The Fallow Deer, gracefull fawn, pretty, was a wonderful time to grow up in this city. Rabbits in the run, seemingly having fun, then peak at the birds in their cage, some boys stole my ball, I became quite enraged.

Played for the first time, Football in the scouts team, 1st Stokenewington, proudly keen, the ball came out of the sky with my head held high, completely knocked out, could have lost an eye, never played again, I resent, with a sigh.

On the hills, where once a train ran, next to the pond where there were fishermen, tried catching once or twice, clever little fish, spat out my worms and maggots, even spat out corned beef with spice.

I learned late to swing on the swings, when I did, I felt quite bold, then the caretaker lady said get off the swing, your much too old. People danced to the classical music, we began to hum, take the micky, copycat and laugh, forced to haste, then quickly run, we secretly enjoyed the music from the auditorium.

Mum would buy an ice cream from Sir Thomas Abney house, beautiful old building, I once chased a mouse. Into the paddling pool we used to splash, we had such fun, never needed cash. Ducks lined the river nesting on the side and sometimes lay in their sweet little house.

I grew up, moved away, lived everywhere in the uk, left London far behind, sensitive boy frightened from the inner city violent high, so up I got and ran away, see my sisters they’re okay, yet Clissold Park, still has a sway, perhaps I can go back there, one of these days.

Is depression dark?

Entering the tunnel of love, I ask myself ‘is depression dark?’, along with the sounds from cold, running watered glass, shattering my ears with a rush, my heart dying with a tightly wound crush!.

All at once, the winding tunnel wrenches blackness to daylight, the Kalashnikov sound of water flow, releasing into a ripple, joining what can only be described as wide mouths of screaming children on high rides, laughing, enjoyment to the full.

Birds in cages squawking revolutionarily speech to ice cream slurping brats, women crying bitter sorrow to each other, ‘men!, bastards!’, every one, big, young, old, impetuous and small, masculinity at the bar flexing muscles, standing tall, caring by not caring at all, beer swilling and a slippery fall.

Queueing traffic in the summer heat, all the time in the world to rest aching feet while looking at others in cars, also queuing to escape litter strewn streets of their holiday, puke ridden pools with sunburnt skin, white flesh displayed thin, tired from a long hard restful day.

Wonderful smiling faces surround me, “thanks for a lovely day”, they say, the very next day, ‘that’s okay’ I reply, thinking ‘I do wish I felt the same’ watching them cheerfully depart, still I feel a crushed winding of my heart, the day thunders away, I hear the sound of the river in my mind awash, lightening strikes into the night, another darkness, another fight, again I ask myself looking at the stars, is depression dark?.

Depression is a lonely journey

I awaken, its dark, I feel an ache in my heart, it’s a dread, a fear of death, a dry throat with tainted breath, blood seeps across my tongue, youth is wasted on the young, the wonder of health, a perspective view, fresh young skin with a skull tattoo.
A heart attack, a panic attack, I’m not sure which, continuing days with an unscratchable itch, life is worthless, no change made, sometimes I feel I have the mange, in a rut stuck, useless person with a pain in the butt, ridiculously ill from a fattened gut.
Once, a person full of joy, reckless, young a carefree boy, a whole being, exalted with fun, feeling the truth of what it is to be young, despair is ending, days ever ending,  O joy enter my heart, a darkened destructive way to finish a good start, what has become....
Realise after so many years, life has been hard with tears, five jobs at sixteen, fight really hard to be a somebody, to be nobody is even harder, leaving a job I loved, pleasing a cow in a china shop, it seems misery will never stop, depression is a lonely journey, now I’ve fallen off.

Baby by the river - Richard

I read a story, it caused me to weep, found in newspaper on the side of the street, a few hours old near a rat infested canal, found by a kindly soul with the miracle of how.

Mother unable to care, you were given no name then dumped you by there,  father jailed for being a member of the Krays, doing time without any praise, mother probably unable to cope left you without survival hope.

Social care with hardly any,  a child without love but love for many, your luck then changed adopted by a family with lots of love to give now at last you had a reason to live

How sad even more just to remind you of an equal score, your adopted father beat you black and blue, violent and egotistical broke your bones too, now you’ve grown, your Destiny is your own a book  of a life tainted by strife.

I thought I was unlucky, sadness from the falls your story tells me that I had hardly any at all, Richard Gallear, The forgotten child, lived to tell the tale from a miracle child to tell the tale of a man who should’ve been wild but with life brings a change to the direction of the wind, maybe change the mind of a fiend. 

May a glint of light shine through all of our darkness- God Bless. 

The Belvedere auditorium

On a cold, damp, colourful Autumn day , I arrived at the crossroads where gasps of a blustery gale were clashing into a vortex, swirling everything trapped within an invisible theatre, I sat within my vehicle frozen in amazement, stopping to glance as if in a trance transfixing my glaze, most would not have seen, instead noticing the wonderful building of All Saints well presented and quaintly built with brown and white ornate stone or the little elderly couple shuffling along, wrapped up with elegance and scarves holding hands, drenched in historical affection, not the mere sight of leaves creating a scene of pure beauty, dancing colourfully, setting the scene of the most glamorous ballet to bestow an audience, a large black Crow sitting comfortably on the pleasant wall, picking at a chip acquired from the foyer, so called the road where many quaint yet tasty food items can be bought at a reasonable price of mere diligence and patience, then the scene erupted into a finale’, swept away from existence by a trail of moving vehicles in transition to all of the most amazing places that anyone could imagine, it was then’, I could hear the trumpets and brass section wakening me from my trance at the end of the dance, horns of plenty from behind reminding me the show had finished and it was my time to depart the Belvedere auditorium.

A day in the death.

“I don’t blame you!, you simply were not thinking, You had enough on your mind, I don’t blame you for being partially blind, well I also had things to do, rather than being struck by you, still I’m not angry, what could you do”?.

“I don’t blame you!, for being in a stew, considering all the things that you had to do, but did you have to choose that day for behaving that way..I really don’t know what to say”.

“I don’t blame you!, you have children to feed, how were you supposed to know I had children too, now they are all alone without any precious care, fending for themselves, well if they can dare. your not to feel bad in any way, I just feel like having my say”.

“I don’t blame you!, although it’s mean, leaving a defenceless creature such as myself, perfect in every way, I narcissistically say, flattened on the ground, what was left eaten by a hound, later that day”, 

“I don’t blame you!, the little angel said, for ending my life and putting me to bed. “Well you see, I dreamt of this, so this is the thing!, I wanted to be in choir but not so soon, a hymn I will sing when the bell rings then I’ll gladly  receive my Squirrel wings”. 

Familiar Song

From Queen Mary’s to Thamesmead, all day long, different faces replicate the same familiar song, a melody of true emotion, perpetual fabrication. Never ends, but freely Goes on and on and on like Ariston. 

“I’ve lost my Oyster, Oyster, Oyster, I’ve lost my Oyster Oy”.

“I’ve lost my Oyster, Oyster, Oyster, I’ve lost my Oyster Boy”.

Sometimes it changes tack, with a different verse, yet everyday the story, gets worse and worse than worse, like poetry emotion, a humble choir sing, the truest dullest tone, the same familiar ring. 

I’ve not received my Oyster mate, My Oysters damn well broken  

My Oysters broken, broken, My Oysters damn well broken.

So if you see a lonely child just trying to get along, off to school, college or work singing the familiar song, ask them to hop on fast so as not to be late, for arriving at their location, to climb the bloody gate. 

Suicide or a Bacon Sandwich?

Is it me?

Is it my destiny?

maybe it’s time that I resigned.

place a rope tightly around my neck.

what the heck.

they’d only notice for a week.

It’s not a friend that I seek.

I am me, with dark thoughts of my own.

care for a while but mostly alone.

words in my head will not stop

troubled by not knowing

what the hell is wrong!

so, so tired and not very strong

feeling I simply do not belong

from a child, where did I go wrong?

dream of a million pound, a sleep at night.

does not make any difference.

I’d  still awaken in the morning,

with a pain and a fright.

It’s time now, time to go.

I’ll make it quick 

I was always too slow.

or maybe I’ll get up, have a bacon sandwich

then I will know!.

Roberto

“Roberto” gave no answer when his name was called.

“Roberto” was dreaming away while gathering his mood.

“Roberto” on an adventure in a Jungle scene.

“Roberto” listening to music, singing a tune.

“Roberto” was at a Junction waiting for green, his railway track was the largest he’d seen.

“Roberto”, “Roberto” “will you come now”?.

Roberto was wandering through a magic land, the blue sea that captivates, the warm smooth sand, as the day darkens, the turtle lays eggs, the stars in the sky light up all there is to see, the wind is blowing to tremble his knees, he turns around, inhales deeply to breathe it in, then wondered to himself, when did it all begin?’ while dreaming and thinking he heard a sound, then stopped what he was doing to look around, his mother had entered the room, he had been found!.

“Roberto” you coming for something to eat?

“ Yes mum, I won’t be a minute my battery was dead, I had to recharge my chair, I’m hungry now” he said. With all the adventures He had been on, Roberto felt that he could eat a Horse..but so long as it had lots of Ketchup of course!.

Harry ‘The Boy’ left home

“Silly little fool, 16 years of age what’s he going to do, a mere slip of a boy?, typical of Harry to do this sort of thing!”. “Don’t be too harsh Mum,  it will all be over and done within weeks, then Harry will come home, with his tail between his legs, no doubt”, “Harry will come home”. 

Harry, felt empty and cold, his father Missing in Action, lost two years or more, Harry did not understand this war, he felt it was his duty, confused and lost, he signed up at the local army recruitment they were asking for more, he thought ‘I will be home’,” I will come home”, his letter assured, pretending to be 18 and sure.

No more than a month after training at war, Harry fires his gun at an unsuspecting hun, the man went down screaming in pain, with a knife in hand, Harry went to complete the job, he was about to finish the poor wrench, the man said “please, no’ I do not hate you, I have children, look”. He produced a photograph covered in mud, Harry had never seen such a beautiful family, a happy five, together looking so, at ‘peace. Harry was wild, lost his temper, he stabbed the floor and growled “i dreamt of going home, I hate this war”. “I want to go home”.

Harry helped the Man ‘called Gunther’, a connection was made they hid in a bunker for three whole days then along came a sound that evermore drew closer, Harry knew he was lost when German voices were heard. Gunther spoke first “hier drüben”. surrounded by Huns Harry knew what to do, gun to his own head knowing and accepting his end, then Gunther said “no” hand to stop “I am your friend” Harry broke down in tears, “I wanted to go home”, “I am your friend” Gunther replied, “Home you will go”. 

Harry was kept isolated, in captivity surrounded by Germans, although treated fair, he felt tired, was losing his hair, it seemed an ages after interrogation, Harry lost weight, at night was kept chained to an old iron gate, for months, maybe a year, then one morning, he could hear, washed by a bucket of ice cold water, fully clothed, he was told by an officer in the know, “you are going”, “where” Harry enquired, “some where else for a long time”, he was told, bundled into a cart, wearing a blindfold, kept dark, Harry expected his life was at an end. Harry wished to be home, to just be going home.

It was night when Harry was taken out of the cart, blindfold removed, left in the dark, chained to the beam of a horse in a barn. He slept as best that he could on some dry straw, sprawled about the floor, morning came, a stream of light woke Harry from his slumber, a man stood above him in a cream woollen jumper, a gun taking an aim ,pointed to his head, Harry thought of his Mum, thought he was dead, a vision of home, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding...Home in bed.

The man spoke to Harry “do not worry”, a voice he knew, looking up, blinded by light, then into the dark the man stepped forward, Harry gathered his sight, “my name is Gunther, Harry knew, within seconds, knew,  “you saved my life” the man told Harry, “now I will save yours”, “you will work on my farm, then go home”, “eventually you will go home”.

Three years later, Harry’s wish came true, Gunther said “your going home”, friends he had made and was never alone, Gunther invited him as family, and forever more would be, Harry’s mother was overjoyed when she saw Him first, crying and screaming “your home”, “Harry, you’re home”, father missing, still gone. A boy went away, a man he came home, a man that lived as promised came home. 

Gunther died in 1972, Harry was with him,  together to the end, a lifelong friend, an enemy at war, he never had to mend, Harry had memories, pleased not to forget, his children’s grandfather, Gunther was a special man, the best friend and father to his wife. The best father-in-law a man ever met. At last he too was home, in peace, at home. 

John 3:16

I’m so sad, it can make a person mad. The ignorance of many with a narrow point of view you have to ask oneself.. am I one too?.

He came to save man and woman, without scythe and hammer, no hardened rules, no stutter or stammer. 

Without any sin, he saved and healed, no malice or feeling of ill, the blind could see, trapped set free, accept Jesus now to free you from sin, eternal life is given by him.

Simple verse and an act of god when he was put to death upon a cross, a clear message with a point of view ‘believe in me and I’ll save you too’. 

                ———————————-

Message in hope - I love my family and friends, there is no place that I’d rather be when I leave this earth except heaven, there is no’ nothing!’  as some would have you believe. To be with all the people that I wish to be surrounded by, such as Nan, grandad, Mum & Dad is a hope that is worth keeping. It’s a hard world, every so called god talks of revenge and evil response to an action except Jesus Christ, I’ve made my choice... Have you?