If I were King

Talk the talk 

Fight the fight

If I were king

I bloody well might

Silent reminder

a long queue of traffic at temporary lights 

rain briskly falling on the windscreen 

swish a swish the wipers sweep

drowning out the buzz I keep

clattering a pitter patter

screeching rubber thudding stop

hoot from the car behind 

waking from the trance, I hop

noise returning, no escape

the sound at night, a wee awake

deep loss of joy is my pay and stake

Spring awake

Enlightenment of spring, 

burst into early existence reaching for a peek at the sky 

fragility of a slim stalk begging why?

a beautiful hue of yellow trumpeted fragility 

singularly is sparsely weak

in mass a chorus doth speak

Fitting in

If I have to be a conformist it’s with a rebellious ache

fitting in, within the line, 

I feel an eruption and a quake

denying freedom beguiles in me, 

a catastrophic shake

nightmares are so frightening 

yet even worse, while I am awake

Red Rose

I begged for a rose with scent so sweet

Planting it young beneath my feet

then watched it grow the flower red

It was joined by its sister in the small rose bed

on and on the bed grew fast 

with many colours that were set to last

but you see the crash then petrol burn

upon my field of roses grown

I pulled you from the burning wreck 

then cursed the lord 

you had broke your neck

Our true love just could not last

One red rose left, I placed in a vase

On your coffin lid made from glass.

Starry night

A starry night, a wonder in sight

not to be seen clearly in the city 

it bleaches out the wonder that is space 

Without a thought we leave our trace

It is such a damn pity, selfish and gritty 

Walking the streets within my town

I look around mainly looking down

whitish spots across the pavements 

Mr Blobby’s raining gravements 

hard stick gum, lazy ravers

When we’re visited by an alien race 

will we see the laughs upon their face

then leave earth quickly, as fast as they came

go back home to never return again

disgusted sick,  for what they see

Leaving a review of a backward creed

Burying litter for the future

poisonous mass from an open suture

toxic fumes, a disgraceful mess

In a thousand years, we will be gone

leave them a present, help them digress

A starry eve what a place to be

on a clear night, look up and see

A twinkle of diamonds feeling free,

where would you go hypothetically ? 

Depression

It becomes dark once more

closing in; to a place I’ve known before

where I build is torn down; elusive

I cannot get close to them anymore

legacy is a state of mind, untrue and unkind

stepping deeper into despair, I am blind

disliked for my phoney, the truth to bare;

Is a place that I am; yet do not dare

perpendicular through a looking glass

In this world I know, there is no care

I trust no one; then no one dare

taunted by loneliness, in this place of here and now

nothing but the fear; running off my brow

Tough it

Accept no more the dourness of a hard stance

a prance, choosing in thy stead to dance

will thy hand wither to grasp a soft touch

some love unreserved at a gentle glance

Pretentiousness storytelling a sly foe

be in doubt of her ways and where she goes

relent; she will not, smiling with her final kill

blood smeared talons rip out  your heart with ill 

forcibly driven inside by hurt, the dirt 

unable to cleanse away thy pain

beneath a shower without gain

a place to return to again and again

Thus to end it now; a subtle memory of shame.

Genealogical Emptiness

I tasted your bone devouring loss once more

 holding you close within my heart

the gravelly taste of dust and stone 

has proven you are gone 

 slamming shut life, the last door 

A  heart thumping realisation, 

I am more alone now; than I will ever be

torture of a heartbreak that can never be free

hope to close my eyes then never again to see

desire as belonging, born before time,

understanding little, infusing rhyme, 

gentle, kindly, loving soul; somehow a crime

to be alternatively meek, others see weak

 rivers are from mountains, paradise we seek

Forests of Doom

A muster of trees,  strong in their talk

they hug one another closely 

Holding fast at the stalk

growing tall,  leaning back, outward and keen

an argument, they have thwart, or so it would seem

Clearing leaves in the winter 

the wind it doth’ blow 

a little woodpecker is making her hole 

a large Douglas fir, keeping distantly lone

he steadies his feet with nuts on a cone

Wild winter passes, the kings bows are strong

everything is fine until them people come along

Hacking down forests, killing the young

making a clearing the grumble has gone

trees stop talking, sadness has come

For everyone knows, there’s no strength; in one

the future looks bleak, man does not learn

kill all the forests with peril they’ll learn

a breath of the cold in the darkness of night

the only air left, if not willing to fight

city’s of finance, toxicity in its girth 

no trees to fell, no life left on earth.

Under a cloud

I prayed this morning “dear lord I’ve had enough”

with all this bad weather clouds of grey cloth

I am not sure he can hear me in heaven above,

emotions so waywardly lost in dissatisfaction 

if only life could for once move in my direction

I would shout out loud in declaration 

I must be grateful really

eating sausage, eggs and bacon 

lasagna with a few Lardons 

may they be enough to beg my pardons

Michael Marland, Woodberry down

Head Teacher - Woodberry Down 

Michael Marland was a force in education with many ideas that led forward a revolution in social teaching, a great man with a peculiar look, my head teacher. for those who met him. This story in the independent helps him live on 

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/michael-marland-headteacher-and-educationalist-861291.html

This world

In this world an alien lives, 

he moves around upsetting the balance

struggling to level out, never can advance

What is it all about ?

If the world stops revolving 

could we fall into demise ?

collapse into darkness with no ability to rise

An alien lives in this world

affecting our decisions causing divisions

ugliness in nature, minor things become major

have you thought; we could look in the mirror

stare hard only to find the alien that we see

the person we are looking at is;

either you or maybe me. 

Old Heart

Life goes quick and I find myself at sixty

It can be hard and it can be tricky

I’ve never knowingly; known the way

I’ve never ever knew; just what to say

I have good days; on odd occasion 

Mostly I cannot work out the equation 

I think I’d try hard and be promoted

for some reason not known, I end up demoted

hurting with self absorption, stupid though I’m not

cleverly disguised discussion; I haven’t got

remembering a friend yesterday; his past

mourning his existence, will forever last

too many shattering thuds, leave a heart of glass

too many failures for hardened graft

read no more, I can hear you laugh

Snow

Snow lay heavily around on the ground, 

It crackled with a snapping, cracking sound

the bin men refused to come this day

due to the high hills, along the way

“what is the point in it” they say

“the rats are frozen anyway”

instead they chose to grit the roads

except my cul de sac; it is forbode 

too far away from anywhere that matters

close knit houses with lots of chatters

cars on drives; snow turns to ice

not home for a day but twa or thrice

hand full of bad luck #

I received a letter, just the other day

it told me of fortunes that were coming my way,

of money and wisdom and joys to behold

the glistening treasure buried in gold 

the torture of freedom are promises bold

that leave you so broken and out in the cold

a promise of heaven would be a delight

Yet it leaves a man struggling to put up a fight

A cheque through the door, made me sixty quid rich

the very next letter was oh such a bitch

Fifty nine forty it said on the bill

Sixty pence change, just seemed so unreal 

for the torture of freedom are promises bold

They leave you so broken and out in the cold

a promise of something is such a delight

a wanton feeling of something that might

today was the day that I might win again

to lose all that money would be such a sin

yet when I cashed in yeh feeling so smug

I was mugged in an alley by a  desperate luck thug

for the torture of freedom is money I hold

It could leave one broken and out in the cold 

the promise of something could leave you instead

at home and alone just crying in bed

Yehess I think I’ll just lay in;…and dreeam instead

A questionable existence

As I stand further in the future from the innocuous past; let thy judgement be steadfast and brutally true,

for the kingdom be chosen for the maker of all things;

then the wisdom  begets the reality of my tragedy.

I know of not why the bequest of one’s righteous existence be lost upon the heavenly realm; Thy splendourous iniquity is judgment upon thyself; not I that have revisited a destined mortality, be it of my own choice; thus an end of freedom to choose, yay a choice of gratification from this, my disastrous being. 

a golden harp be venture of which I am coursed for me, it is not, my love is the sound of true cello, my soul cries a violin of an emotional bleed; for which I have no talent to play, though I pass into nothingness, If it be not gods way. then prevail.

Memory of you #

Looking out the window is where I like to be

way up high in the sky looking down at the sea

the claustrophobic pressure is too much to bare

Yet looking out the window, I can see everywhere 

 Yet it’s so true, that I’m feeling blue 

coz the memory in my mind 

always leads me back to you

The clouds are so surreal, the sun shines across

a feeling of peace inside and not one of loss

Oh England is so green and so is Ireland too

most beautiful of landscapes in the sky is a hue 

Yet it’s difficult to see, why you bothered with me

perhaps that’s why I’m feeling so blue

Coz I still have that memory of you

As we descend on the flight path at five hundred feet

the ground pulls us downwards 

We’re back upon our feet

the heat hits me sideways as I step down from the plane 

I turned to grab your hand my love

but your gone away again

yet it’s so true you’re gone and I’m feeling blue 

coz again it leads me back to the memory of you

it leads me back to the memory of you

the memory of you

Scattered pieces

No shadow of turning, look into onward

I shall not be returning 

steadfastness in my wake

forward strident steps I take

yet when the darkness closes in my haunted past is here again

‘O’ where is peace for thy soul to rest
 hungry wolves are at my breast 
  thumping, jumping heartening thud
forgive me lord for there is no rest

 a hatchling sparrow falls from the nest   

with a golden crown upon her crest 

Sadness in my glance, which they judge

quivering tremble of a beaten cub

misattribution of a splintered grudge

besets the future, lays a fragile bludge

fresh running stream that instead

Is a path to the life of a settled trudge 

The world we live in

Would the world we live in be a better place

where corruption were not so commonplace

Londons streets aren’t paved with gold

escaping for a life that’s  bleak and cold

 A place they kill the poor, the weak, the old

Insurgence of a friendly ghoul

trust your vote to a cretinous foe

things would never ever be the same

if blue blood boiling weren’t in the vein

Trust no one with a thumping hand

the kind that falls but never lands

a politicians spew of drunken lips

Look for the stain of piss on zips

rise up from deep then trust your wit

be of strong heart look out of a pit

darkening the rim then pouring shit.

Upon you heads the blood stealing nits 

Never again control your soul

Eradication of money 

a freedom we will know

end of greed a capitalist creed

end of hatred from the people we bleed

feed the hungry abolish the greed

give the world the love it needs