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

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.  

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.

‘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!"

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.

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. 

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 ?

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! 

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.

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. 

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.

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. 

A right so and so

Douse me in fuel, watch me go,

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

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. 

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.