Mother Loves

Born to be a star he did not have to go far

cherished as a baby, loved as a child

love given readily, everything desired 

mammothreptive existence crazy and wild

a dangerous teenager demands a just

everything gotten must be a must

what could not be had could be got

mumma wiped his nose covered in snot

theft is a must to survive on a crust

stealing a car hidden by the rust

drugs were the ticket to an ill gotten gain

made enough money to holiday in Spain

arrested at the airport not to visit again

to him it did not matter, if it’s all the same

caught in a mall, by the fountain in the hall

shoppers listening to the music played by the band

stealing an iPad from a delivering van

surrounded by police with gun in hand

the TV news said as he gunned people down

a wrong kind of star completely out of control

inexplicably sad became overthrown 

the police shot the boy who is now in a hole

mum wept hard she could do for him no more

never knowing the reason or what Kalma is for

Scary Wind

The winds are raging away, an angry storm

birds are cowering from the danger abreast 

trees are frightened of dangerous deathly snaps

fences are barely standing on concrete posts

Pets in hutches of destructive taps

there has been a few this year

not much sun then again not much cheer

maybe soon summer will bring some

along with it some fun and lots of beer

Don’t confuse a sentence

Don’t get caught

Out, for the night all

Night, is too short to

Sleep, in tomorrow 

Instead, go to the 

Circus, is full of 

Clowns, are deranged

Lunatics in the

Asylum of life

Long live America the 

Greatest was Mohammed 

Ali ran the lecture about

Elvis was the

King

L. 2 B E….vil

Evil is in the vein developed in the brain

It does not adorn the heart given to us 

or from the line with which we came

poisoning the blood 

from evil we have seen or gained 

 

If I can give… a moment

If I can write words to heal a heart

to help someone else’s pain depart

if I can offer joy to a little child

give them a lift to be happy & calm

not over anxiously wild

have fun in the days to come

a positive outlook of joyful fun

if I can die for others to live

then I can go quietly without worry

In a peaceful sleep

to have blessings in my soul to keep

Poem of Bart shape (kind of)

A Rut is similar to a Rat with a ‘U’ instead of an ‘A’

living off scrapings left behind

No improvement of any kind

a Hamster stuck on its wheel 

round in circles 🥶 on a pleasure thrill

fragility in blindness forgone the kindness

take away the heat, eat seed not meat

three blind mice, there is one with a cane

Tick, Tock, Tick, up the clock again

dreadful goes the thought

when the creature comes

You are once again caught

all that saving for nought

See the pattern

begins the face with a Bart 

looking for a start

you cannot see

for looking at

Time to Fly

Passing the most wonderful years of my life 

four years and four months to be precise

such a wonderful place to behold

troubled in mind, yet everything concise 

doing my best for Van, Gillian & Callum 

losing my heart on love not Valium 

Ryan my friend, Ryan my boss 

Colin’s friendship, he is a loss 

the wind brought change that did not suit 

Moving along without the boot 

if things did not change they stay the same 

all my friends not one to blame

time to go, make a change in life

not even a word to my lovely wife 

feeling sad and a little blue

Jade & Carolyn, Lisa too 

thinking of the young that grew and grew

forever more I’ll think of you. 

The Robin

A Robin flew down from a local tree

while I sat on a bench musing history 

it decided to land ever so close

Staring at me with a knowing pose 

I gave a morsel of seed from my bread

the Robin ate well, until it was fed

a little chirp later flutter away

be great to see it again some day

Brothers and Sisters

Spirits all around, the mystery no one knows

guide of the Holy Spirit reality or a show

Morning onto night, not a day to delight

shiny silver dagger splinter in the heart

violent egotistical being ready to depart

never could begin, never could they start 

apologies are easy, forgiveness a strength 

love and respect, a kindness without the length 

bridging the gap of love, a blessing from above

make peace in your head before, all are dead 

Or

One way or another 

it will work out

One way or the other

Surge and Rush

Go through the door crafted from steel

for you heartedly step then slip on the cill

a window in age consumes what has gone

remember the person who was once known

the spider crawling its eight legs of craft

the vines of the history that were meant to last

be brave in the venture, strong in the choice

have the the last laugh be full, then rejoice

newly welcome yet not fully known

a day in the future of the grown

be slow to steadfast, patiently quick

understand what is expected that is the trick

Tunnel Dwellers

Tunnel dwellers living in the dark

sleeping on the ground or in the park

hands out hoping for a handful of help

From a cold careless country in a gambling belt 

Tunnel dwellers beneath the feet

of those in casinos with riches complete 

wasting millions to win or to lose

fodder for casinos from years of abuse 

Tunnel dwellers all around the globe

strength in surviving, no ability to cope

serving time until winter comes

digging in deeper in a last desperate hope

America the great with a penalised state

walk past the homeless, life is great

England the wealthy, counting a penny

those uncared for children haven’t got any

apathy rules supreme it is often seen

countries around the world are obscene

prostituting children in wealthy city’s

no care for the poor and no time for pity 

They must see the past about people’s need 

war is inevitable with xenophobic greed

governments to blame for inciting gain

billions of poor still suffering in pain

Tunnel dwellers in the dark

hidden underground, no future, no spark

the poorest of poor, children in tow

In the darkest, deepest places

unnoticed in a hole

Triggered Emotions

here at rest weeping from memories of the past

shadows of the ghosts haunting will last

simple pictures in an historical mind

remembering days when things seemed more kind

passing through life as if I were blind

The pie and mash shop, F.W. Cooke’s its name

Kingsland high street, Dalston, no other the same

Sir Thomas Abney, five to thirty-five 

enjoying the moment watching my children play

while caring for others in a kind way

a little glimpse of what once was

carrying emotions of the unworthy cost

fighting the torture, the cost of pain

hoping to never visit it, ever again

I’ll miss my family to my death

my friends that were never there to see

that’s what I hate most about me

one day soon our lives will end

then there will be nothing left to mend

Changes

Facing atrocities,committing expectations 

changes altering your choice of a happy life

not your own doing a merciless decision

stealing your worth as valued person 

downward spiralling, depressive grudge

it will not improve, by an out of control judge

discounting money, irrelevant schemes

make the changes yourself for happier themes

You inner person is not a slave

worth your “weight in gold” they say

be strong, while you live and behave

Yet changes only change

if strength in choices are brave

Richard

Set upon in a car park taking blows to the head

beaten with a blunt weapon until you were dead

your skull smashed into pieces 

Clothes tattered with creases

attacked from all around until your life ceases

They said it could be drink to help the pain

Shoppers in cars thought, ‘this is insane’

parking in town, a horrific disturbance 

should have gone to Derby to watch the races

lots of people watching, shocked looking faces

‘A horse, a horse, my Kingdom for a horse’

they were the last words you spoke of course

an angry Tudor force, suddenly became barmy

men of military brave-hearts from the local army

saw you were King Richard iii juiced up and smarmy

Last day of his life, died at 33

strong as an oak, of the royal family tree

1485 the date of your death

it wasn’t a car park when you drew your last breath

Gilly and Callum, well they go shopping, instead

A Little Green

A time of truth encompassing the winds of change

sometimes it remains the same

there is no help for a dog with mange

laughable it may seem for a teenager with a dream

youth has an expendable strength to rule the world

though in our hearts, we were all a little green

golden summer days exhibiting muscle and rage

spectacles of love arrive with the joys of spring

‘the young don’t know they’re born’ 

the words my nan spoke, I hear myself bring

to be young can seem obscene 

though in our hearts, we are all a little green

If only we could to feel youth again

wake up not feeling sickness and pain

the daily struggle of perpetuating age

being able to turn a new page

the winds of change are hardly ever seen

when they do they are almost never seen

 they can leave one feeling a little green

Sinking low

The hurt in you I cannot undo although,

It is of my making, a horrible person I can be

decisions made for small victory

I weep deeper with a drenched heart

a fail stench of misery is within

failure as the day that should not begin 

but alas the torment goes once more

can I not rest in bed and snore

close eyes and sleep forevermore

hurting you it wounds me deep

to see you cry and never sleep

I am not worthy of forgiveness 

the evil within passes into deep

I want you so much yet, your not mine to keep

The Dark of Day

In my mind I travel

the galaxy here I go

I like to see planets with an orange glow

Stars flicker in a pale moonlight

emblems of the sun shoot out

colliding nebulas have a secret spout 

there are twinkles of mystery all around

possible life in an unknown shroud

covers of blanketed pearly clouds

the light of day has to come 

presentation of our only sun

exploding colour of autumn trees

beautiful sight of bumble bees

not seen often in my shrouded life of dark

unless I am walking in the sun lit park

mostly move through the long hard days

until the clear night shows the stars at bay

I know I am not considered insane

tho’ the struggle in life has always the gain. 

Universally

Little boxes of architectural perfectionism 

Picasso cubism with a mathematical correctionism 

closest to intricacies developed from Marxism

palaces scraping high in the sky as byism 

conglomeration of structurally built colonialism 

colourful spectacle observed as stars by alienism 

reaching creationism of planets in a solar system

rewarding with humanistic caring from planetariums 

saving earth by reaching out to unique worldisms

twinkles of light across planets of spaceism

reaching communities as complete peacefulism

Bitter to the end

The shiver reaches your soul when you are alone

It cuts right through you in the damp crisp air

too long have you felt the icy wind

may you strive on in vain nothing will change

you never wanted anyone 

so no one is what you have 

alone you are until your death

Not so long after, you died alone

broken hearts stand aside to watch your going

lowering your ropes with tears in their eyes

looking into your life as through a bunch of spies

hoping to hear you say “I was wrong”

but like your life it was in vain 

for you died as you lived, all alone

everyone went away shrugging off the pain 

there you still lay in the icy cold day, alone yet again