English Heritage

Thag castles foundation beneath thy shrine, 

Das Gold ist in deiner Tasche

Palace of consequence stitched in time 

spectacular nuance of living fine

Silver tonguing lick out a pitiful snake

Gleeful generosity for a drip feed

Cutting black stuff in a deepened mine

feeding a family of nine

Grotesquely skeletonised children 

There is none that see supposing thou’ blind

Thag castles not a palace grown from crime 

Expressing a peerage  passionate embracial, kind

receptum colouful

Quomodo enim in unius tantum dolorem in una septimana. Oculos meos oculos parumper spem nequaquam plorabis, in mundo enim mens ridet, et supellex varia ad receptum 

The story of Aimee Jay James

There is a wonderful little town called hope, where the parishioners dutifully elected their own God-fearing pope, a church of stone, a navy blue phone, no person there kept their business unknown, watched by day, asleep at night, the barbers cat was the scariest creature, he only attacked in fright. 

The town was safe with a happy refrain yet, after this evening things could never be the same, a young girl, fifteen years of age disappeared, never seen again, a young man they arrested when she went missing, the week before they were seen together kissing.

The story leads us to thirty years in the future, Aimee Jay James was found dead by the river, forty five years of age, recognised by her DNA the same girl that disappeared on that fateful day, Joseph the boy was hung in sight of an angry lynch mob who were regretfully, not right, Joseph died that dreadful night he had no willing cause to put up a fight except in his head they said he wasn’t right.

The truth is sad yet true to aim, Aimee jay James stepfather was the one to blame, he hid her in a cavern that he meticulously built, lining it with brick walls, no windows, no guilt, imprisoned as a slave for thirty years, she had been a captive ever since, without any tears, beat and abused then filled with drugs, kept Aimee undernourished without food, she had water in an old white jug using it to fill her cold metal mug.  

Along came the spring, her captor weakened and sick, the long hard winter had taken the strength on his grip, he entered the prison, said to Aimee Jay “sorry you have not been fed” the old man placed the shiny black pistol to his head, he pulled the trigger, of course he was dead, Aimee gathered her things, she walked away from hell, frightened of her new found freedom, out in the wild, as a new born child, it was like hearing for the first time, the birds, the trees, the flowing river, the buzz of the bees.

As Aimee Jay kept walking on, legs about to collapse, her mind in the woods, sick to the stomach, due to lack of food, without the controlling drugs that kept her in a calming mood, she glanced at the river, then the fish within, she was hungry and very thin, Aimee felt so tired, she was in need of a sleep, she continued two kilometres then fell from her feet, rest was the requirement she needed forever, no life at all with the struggles of tether, they buried Aimee Jay James at the river she lay, beside beautiful Azaleas that blossomed in May.

 

Twinkle in Thy Time

When my fate is duly drawn, my days grow old of fight, my angel will leadeth me with thought on, into the darkness of the night, my body withered and worn, grew old for life whatever be the cause, thy soul will follow thou spirit, leave away thy structure made to pause.

thy stars I follow, tho’ journeys away to space, galaxy of many wonders, ne’ breeze upon my face, thy beckon me to observe, a darkens twisted vine, humanity of ugliness clinging boldly on for time, forever it seemed thy travel ever since it began, though virtual relaxation and peace apon the land

futuring on thy craft of light, throu’ seemed a trillion stars bright, I never could have distanced, thy vision yo’ neared to me in sight, ahead a golden gleam, a palace of silver walls with gates of gold, a picture of a wonderment, a thousand miles tall, I was in awe at a shiny crown capping the roof, sitting on a ball, lands upon its surface identical to earth, a belt of diamond shaped stars locked around the girth. 

I drew nearer the glowing palace of thy lord, thousands lined the streets, clapping, “smile’ were the words , I saw familiar faces, the people that I loved,  the history and the future in the land above, My mother, My father led me to the mansion in thy head, eventually once I reached there, ‘‘twas an amazing garden shed

A night out

Encroachment if he speaks, encouragement uplifts the confidence he seeks, out of depth, never to embark, drink more whisky then a walk in the dark, thoughts of a desperate task, not moving in fear, frozen on the spot, dared not ask for a dance, or take a daring chance 

on the cold street while walking to his room, he heard a clink, a bottle dropped, he hurried on, reminding himself not to stop, footsteps from a door in front and behind, a thump to his head, the shock of it sent him blind, at least two were cursing and kicking him all over, he wondered why he was clubbing in Dover.

Eventually he felt no pain after losing consciousness his demise brought them gain, the police questioned who he’d upset and why?,  they never found out, he was one more victim that had died, the family placed flowers on the street of the crime, the only thing his mother could do was fall to her knees and cry

Yin and Yang, Karma at play, tread on a twig, unbalance the day, kill an insect, blow too much, if it is a must, be gentle with touch, bury a seed, plant a tree, work hard like Martha or believe and see. 

Hmm!

Everybody has one good book in them, I am intuitively different, my brain is an explosion of never ending particles of electrified sparks encountering damp illusions completed by worries and short circuited confusions. 

%}#€$&: - Crazy

A little bit crazy is fine, a little bit crazy is fun, a little bit crazy can be undone, a little bit crazy is comedy sublime, so long as a little bit crazy is not all the time.

A whole lot crazy is noticed quick, a whole lot crazy allows plenty of magic for a crazy trick, a whole lot crazy is dangerous if your the leader of the free world and people believe in your rhetoric 

Power crazy is the way to fast leading, power crazy leaves others suffering and bleeding, Power crazy should never be mixed with a little bit crazy or whole Crazy as it brings out the worst in people rich or lazy

I must confess of being a little bit of all three, so I have dinner for breakfast and breakfast for tea.

I will walk to paradise

I whisper in the whispering gallery, I talk on the phone, I shout in an empty room when I’m all alone

I Jive in the hall, I trot on the road, I sing in the shower so nobody knows 

I take photos with my mind, I smile with my eyes, I kill all my enemies in a moment of mime

I live in peace, I die with hunger, I was much too late to stop no mans land as a runner

I scream on a mountain, I close my eyes to auschwitz, I heard the Berlin wall crumble, roll over and tumble

I was born a Christian, I grew up a Christian, I entered the war a Christian, I shot a Christian, then one day, I’ll die a Christian. 

Through the tunnel

I ventured into darkness, sorrow taking my soul, nothing that is new to me, forever in a hole, for when a child, I sped through the river tunnel under Greenwich, before realisation pounced upon me that I had the sheer panic of returning back home,  once more alone

A long tunnel it is, my mind is in a tizz, wishing the lights were brighter, focusing on the end, petrified of what I may find, a bend is up ahead, leaving tragedy  behind, searching for a peaceful, colourful sign, twisting, turning, a long way up, sweating and burning forever yearning.

Irrespective of the timepiece I wear upon my wrist, I keep on going, just cannot resist, up every slope, down every cavern, around every twist, the devils brace is clasped on tight, I fear a sharp turn leading deep on to the right, Continually searching for the bright white light, floating way up on the sail in the wind of a kite

A journey Once travelled, a chancing delay, once again on the road that leads to dismay, forever a struggle though no fault of mine own, a stone ridden road that I have travelled til’ grown, snakes bite my ankle, shoes leak with rain, forgiveness unknown, then I will go there again, future in doubt, past left in tatters, I am alive today and the fact is what matters. 

un français qui passe

Grey skies above when I fell in love, Sodden were my shoes when I first saw you

Crazy with drink, laced with drugs, a glance of the moment we slowly hugged

A mystical swirling mist when we partook a kiss or was it just smoke from your cigarette of bliss

A memory etched into my fragile mind, an Andy Warhol piece of art, of a very different kind

When at last I saw you vomit on your dress, that was the last time ever but I could have guessed

Your friends called a taxi then you were gone, now I’ll never forget the moment, we danced to that bloody song

L’AVENTURIER INDOCHINE, I saw your perfect moves in the Music Machine, freedom to express but always too keen

Au revoir je t'aime, à la prochaine were the parting words that were spoken, I’ll never see you again.

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? 

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

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. 

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.

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 

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

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.

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. 

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.