A normal day

Walking along a gasp of wind blew dust, blinded by the obscene, I swore and cussed, walking up a hilly road, without much luck, I recall a manhole ahead broken by the dustbin truck, proud upright smelly men with their pungent trash the thought occurs, ‘they should be paid more cash’, I struggled on up the unpleasant hill, with sight of a mole, stumbling upon this unknown hole, could be a crazy individual looking for coal, hitting my head I fell forlong into an eight foot chamber, not seeing the danger, waking some hours later, wet from the soiling of a sewerage stream, noticing blood drip from my eye, I gave a little sigh; ‘what mess had I gotten into this time’ if it wasn’t ridiculous it would be sublime, feeling a little sad, thinking; ‘being a dustbin worker doesn’t seem that bad’ I struggled to my feet, what a memory to keep, reaching for my phone only to realise the battery had gone, I shouted for some help, I screamed for a passer by, but who would walk up that silly hill when they sensibly drive, besides it was getting late at perhaps nine o’clock at night, well, there was nothing for it but the pipe ahead right, climbing through getting even more wet, I wondered if the long narrow road to paradise would be as rough as this as my trousered knees ripped?, feeling humbled with the bliss, I longed to get home to the people I missed, ahead lay the sight of a pool of browny yellow piss yet the sight of a ladder on the other side could not be missed, so I swam for dear life with thoughts of my wife, at last I could climb to get out of this strife, to dream of a nice shower and get on with my life, when at last reached I struggled on up, there was an opening; oh what luck!, I stood up tall in the road and punched the air, even though I was covered in muck, I now write this from my hospital bed, ‘so blessed that I’m not dead,  ‘what happened”? I said to the Doc, he replied wryly without a bedside touch “surely you remember you daft old duck, you were standing in the middle of the road, said the driver of the Dustbin Truck!”. 

What a pain in my ass

Bowel Cancer - What a pain in my ass...

By Andrew Drake on diagnosis of bowel cancer

Came home one day, went to the toilet, shouldn’t feel this way,

Went to the hospital to have some tests, ‘cos there was blood I thought it was best,

Was told I had cancer, that wasn’t fun,

Who knew I’d get cancer up my bum?

 

Had chemo and radio, it’s all gone so well,

But these next 3 months are going to be hell!

Colon and asshole, it all gets cut out,

Into a bag I will shit, out of a spout!

For the rest of my life it’s gonna be fun, but think of the trees I will save,

From not using paper to wipe my bum!!!

 Ducks & Drakes Cancer Trust please google.

Raising awareness for young cancer sufferers, like all cancer early diagnosis is essential 

Rest peacefully- Andrew Drake

28th January 1985 to 30th September 2015

Reactional haste

Slow reactions, let the dust settle, respond in a week, first let your heart seek, traumatic moments are like mountains to climb, reactionary actions are decisions of time. darkness enters an open door. 

Coping with a problem while anxious of the cause, immediate response to weaken the plause, bid your weather, let it past, the taste of anger is not going to last, hate will eat your soul to death especially if you are wreckless at rest, wait a day wander on, consider which type of road you are on.

The next day is brighter than the last, a moment of war extraordinaire, in a heated battle, stop!, exchange a friendly hug, chuckle or chug, make excuses, apologies galore, that moment in time victoriously yours, be kind of heart that’ll make a good start, subtlety is hard yet an important part.

Friendship is built on kindness, deceit is poison. 

Handsome Young

As I grow old enough to recoil I can barely walk across this land of dreams with golden soil, country with meat aplenty, a cut of beef for the cost of twenty, simplicity past before my wake, Walking through I see them guffaw, then shake.

Not a pretty picture to look at man grown old, forgetting the moment he was tall and bold, good looking, skin of bronze, white toothed smile that lingered a while, each passing day takes away youth and sway, gone is the man, welcome the aged. 

On my cross! bear witness to thy good, take me home from a life in the hood, spectacular tale irrelevant now, maybe it’s a curse, I cannot understand how,  Rap’ is for the young, ill leave it at that, worn and old, it is a song, so I’m told. 

The trumpet calls,I do not care for the sound, a violin screeches in a hall that is round, the dog barks at the tv again, I stare at dust and wonder where I’ve been, how I got here?, what I have seen?, butterfly of beauty take me away, don’t leave me here for another day

I dance on Ice, waltz to Tchaikovsky, later I might visit Holby City, then I’m off into space exploring the galaxy visiting worlds that are ever so pretty, space stations scattered, welcome me in, then sleep has a hold and I’m away again, so scatter my bones, let them blow in the wind, mourn the memory of a lost friend, then get on with whatever life throws your way it will almost soon be your day. 

Recall of fear.

You stand tall on a chair, blue shirt, nappy on, only three, shining coconut hair, wirey curls, eyes that stare at a ghostly figure, yet no one is there, looking out from deep golden eyes, with your short young life, a horrific recall of fear enters here

you are away for a minute, some times of the day, a surreal distant moment, that only you can create, screaming for a while, until settled with pepper pig and a drink, taking a step back to have a think, what horrors might you have seen from that bottle of pink, rolled up paper smoke, a horrific recall of fear is here

Silent for what seemed like ages , I glanced as you froze, a statue at irregular moments, that soft gentle face, shaken, hit the wall, bruises after a pinch of anger, left dirty, alone, hungry, a burn on the skin from a drop of ash, one of these days you will forget all, with no horrific recall of fear that enters here. 

WoodBerry Down generation

Why?, oh please answer, why? 

You threatened, abuse in my direction 

Was I so different to you? 

Yes being a little coy, I was a Teddy Boy

There was never rascist tone, I was almost alone,

I never spouted hate, 

one look at the way I dressed made you irate

Winston Reeves, I loved the Rock ‘n’ Roll suits

The Music to boot, I loved Bob Marley too

Though you’d never have guessed

You just reacted to the fashion that I dressed

You weren’t guilty of the way you felt

There could be tough times in 1974 

Difficult for the Windrush core

Never knowing what kind of day you would have

The way you were treated could be hurtful for sure

I wonder what ever happened to you

Were you successful ? 

Like You deserved to be?, 

talented, clever, too skilled for a factory

Probably became a lawyer 

Fighting the cause in history

Or a drug dealer like everyone expected you to be 

Except Me.

Wavering

One never can tell, when they fall into the pit of hell, a mere matter of stress with a combination of duress, a loss of feeling alive, I pray it’s not contrive, not a position of restful strive, a bee without a hive.

Wonderful colour of Tulips, Golden bells galore, Bluebells of plenty, Amethyst are small. Pretty rabbits are out of bed, crocoideae Iris, whisper to Hyacinth, she may not tell, incredible to smell.

 Now where was I in story part or told, lost in thoughts, a transitional movement of the strangest kind, cannot travel beyond what I can see leading forward into the darkest caverns, being lead by the blind, don’t worry my dear, I’m very close behind. 

Roses of red, inconceivable to believe that they have grown up on gruel, Oliver the boy, matchstick girl, would make a great pair, Shoreditch church rings the bell,  the children desired love and food, wonderful stories in the Dickensian world, I slept soundly in a comfy little shell, pray before sleep

For fear of hell!. 

I never did find it

Walking along the pavement after crossing the road, there was a mysterious thing happening, a step for the bold, reaching the corner of a nunnery ahead, I heard the sound of a screeching thud, one step further, I could be 

Woken up on the corner from a hard slap to my face, unsure of the happening or the strange place. “Are you okay son?” a peculiar man asked,  not a Face that I had known from the past “yes, I think so I replied”, then nervously laughed. “What happened?”

Well the man exclaimed “a bus hit a car, the driver lost control, mounted the pavement then landed on you, the whole story sounded so bazaar, on the pavement run over by a car, seemed so cruel,  that it must be true, an ambulance came took me to hospital for a thorough check, when my mum arrived I was sobbing through, “what’s wrong”, she asked softly, “Why so blue?” I’m upset mum because I’ve lost my shoe.

The noise

I cannot share the way I feel, I cannot unleash the burden so still, rotting my methodical mind, rumbling thunderstorms of a strange kind, holding on to sanity, never still the choir, forever at war with the forces of fire, the cockerel faces east on top of the spire, travel through space in a hailstone mired. 

An electrical impulse, I feel no peace, no place of rest, no instantaneous release, trouble I bring and trouble I leave, a high pitched tone in my brain, a constant humming, I need silence for peace, there is none, for searching all, not any I find, a single noise is torment, rasping perpetual falling foul, soul crashing, never ending,  punishing till death is now

When your at rock bottom there is only one way you can go!!

Every house built, starts from a single brick

successful people achieve one success at a time

Accept sometimes you  fail,  pick yourself up and rise  from the ashes as if you are a phoenix!.

What’s a day worth ?

Wash away your worries, seal your regrets 

The capable person is one who forgets

put your head  in the fridge to chill 

Take one more of those little yellow pills

Just remember to eat your bread

you won’t be eating anything when your dead

So do what you like, whatever makes you happy

Why panic about triviality, then feel crappy

Go to bed at nine, read a book or watch TV

Whatever you do decide to do

keep calm and breathe easy

Undazzle translucent, melt the fusion

Where possible, be a living light, airless and breezy 

Free of restraints, without the confusion

Breathe in a new year

Snow capped mountains, freshwater rivers run, mineralised forests whistle, an accompanied humm, swishing a swathe rustle thumping drum, words of operatic splendour everyday song, whirling motions, tuneful tones, winter chills deep to the bone

Waves of eruption on earths weakened edge clustered cartilage boulders fragmenting to stone, smashing tiny fragments returning them home, plasticised death a whales unnatural feed, empty sea of fish oversubscribed netted, unfree

The moon above protruding its shimmering light, follow it with caution deep into the night, shadows of a glimmering light, glowing red of the planet Mars, birds of the world together following the stars

There is streak of light broadening warmth across the world, Spring promises flourish of life, a new year unfurls, shoots of crocus flower, daffodils anew, luscious grass is melting mist from a morning dew

Born a child in London the fog hurt my throat, I had never seen a cow for real or the milk from a goat  Fur hats worn aplenty by neighbouring Hispanic Jews, richest folk wore thick fine furs from minks of rare but few, England could be a better place now if we knew then what the richest can do

Grant

Can I offer you light, the warmth of a blanket

Speak words of comfort to help your fight

Can I Wrap you in friendship then say goodnight

Will you stay not taking flight

Speak to me no more warrior of life

Do not share a song if it’s all the same

For you were Tilted like Chaleur Humaine

can I drink with you one last time

dance away relinquish the flame

 Rollicking a rolling away goes the bus

An exchange of thought in a valley of dust.

This world is dreadfully unjust

Is it an ‘Ism’ ?

Look around see the chasm, maybe it’s part of the human condition? , a gain in power to hide a spasm, irrelevant, there is a truth, is there a fundamental flaw in anything that is an ‘ism?”

Wretched Saviour

As I was strolling I fell into hell, through a slivered slope, unbeknownst to thine eyes, ferocious fire swarmed til’ a screeching sought my soul, spiting thy living breath oust of thou’ humanity, thus death bequeathed a punishable end, 

Thou’ god reached far into the depth of Satan’s grasp with one hand astray, casting thy sway, compliments of graciousness to live another day, miracles he; thus passed , I thank thee lord forever at last, forgiveness of thy past. 

Avid Viewer

Psychology dreamt to condemn the weak, television showing a weekly episode of the obtruded personage freak, an alien escaped the poverty torn land that they once escaped, living near free, lest cheap, condemnation through hard working viewers call it evening entertainment, obesist unemployable leech, thoughts spoken the least, deceitful treacherous Connivant political motive, designated corruption outset, broadcasting agenda smearing, molecule percentages inconsequentialy important realism,  provoking intellectual change, hideousness, a generational sect, National depth of inhumanity for a polling box collect

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