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. 

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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

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.

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.

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?.

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.

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. 

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.