It fell

It fell a long way into the depth of an upturned spire, a cross of Christ the lord crucified upside on.

Falling and falling, flowing downwards around the shape of barley twist, begging to catch a barb on the way, yet missed. forgotten memories, names long gone even the one with the consideration of a song. The chemicals not working, barbiturates all the same, forgotten the tune, word as a name, tumbling on into darkness lay asleep or dead?, it's all going on inside of the head, only one can tell for the thoughts still trouble, treasured history among the rubble, lights long fading in to dark of night 

love to be saddened the lessened to share

But what's the bother now, not a soul alive cares.

The last time

He recalled a reflection of his own history, it was brief although he had lived more than one life, in his time. He remembered his children, they needed his love so much when they were young, now all grown up living their own lives in the way they wish to live them, they had wonderful children of their own, his grandchildren, his future generation, carving a way forward, more precious to him than they  could feel.

The love of his life is beside him, clenching his hand with her slender pretty fingers, knuckles holding the gold rings stopping them from falling off, she is weeping yet accepting that fate must have its glory, he is so tired now, the pain in him is ill conceived, striking sharply. The nurse speaks quietly to his passion, he cannot hear what is being said however a thin tube is brought over to the bedside and a bag with Clear Liquid inside is placed on a hook, a syringe driver is put into his arm with the tube attached, the liquid flows through the small tube. He cannot concentrate on anything with the dull, yet piercing ache through every part of his being. As his body consumes the liquid, he can feel an immense throbbing pain bound with a paradoxical feeling of no pain at all as if he was not in his own body.

 He takes a look around the room, there are many faces, his Mum, Dad, Children, Grandchildren, Sisters, Brothers, Uncles and aunts and others that he did not recognise, "Oh My, How.....?" then felt as if something or someone stopped him from speaking further, he turned to glance at his love, "you are so beautiful" he told her, he thought that from the first time that he had seen her bright smile across a darkened room although he always pretended that he had not noticed her at all, he reached to touch her short blond hair and wipe away the tear from her soft blue eyes, "it is what it is" he said quietly, "yes" she replied with that same bright but now feint smile that she had shown him many years before, he grasped her hand with as much strength as he could muster then felt no strength at all as his hand slipped away from hers, he had become very weak, with a longing for sleep at the same moment the pain binding his body appeared to lift out of him and dissipate into the light above the bed, leaving him with immense peace, he moved his neck for a glance at her beautiful face then shut his eyes.

History of a decent man

Catch a thief by the toe, watch him die for tales of woe, burdened by the birthright genes, poor as muck the stealing fiend, bread for dinner, potato for stew, hardly enough for me and you, he feeds his family that's the score, then walks to work at half past 4, twelve hours striving for not much pay, goes back home to sleep in hay, fortunate enough to pass some bread? or wildly wicked and hung till dead!. Judged as dirt by those in power who live so well in ivory towers.

I’m not putting up with that!

"I'll slap him hard for thieving off me"

beat him with a stick for telling lies

One,two, three, now he will see"

"he needs conditioning, the unruly pesk"

"for bunking off school 

not sitting at his desk"

"that boy is useless!

he belongs in the trash"

"now he has drugs and plenty of cash"

"I'll show the thug the back of my glove

there is nothing wrong

with a bit of tough love".

The boy hardly winced or felt any pain

he did not care if he was hit again

desensitised by the surroundings

from a violent life case

thumped by his parents,

and punched in the face

burnt by cigarettes for wetting the bed

alone in his room and hungry for bread

left for so long, close to death

then beaten and bruised for things 

he had said, like "mummy I'm hungry"

and "FUCK OFF DAD" 

always alone and quite often sad

angry, confused, self harming and mad

now going back 

to the first verse in my rhyme

he was put in care

when he was all but nine 

society's problem, ignorant bliss

the boy had not known a hug or a kiss

"give him a smack", advice by some

"shut him in his room 

he will come to no harm"

"grab him, shake him, always be calm"

"make sure not to leave

a bruise on his arm"

carers, sharers fostering dues

no wonder the children are so confused

care is patience, love is Devine

happiness is the child's needs over mine

Tinsel

The unclean are omitted, 

a different view cast aside, 

there is no place in England 

if you are from the other side

judgemental press, hide behind a lie

fabulorised stories, tut tuts and sighs

they say "how dare you be disabled, unemployed or high when a decent working man cannot afford to fly".

Look to your store with a shiny clean floor welcoming people in, filthy at the core

structured music, displays colour bright,

see beneath the counter,

something is not right.

At the back, in the yard,

the staff are fit to drop,

for twelve hours standing 

in this low paid shop

dog ends still smouldering,

behind the building litter,

while the person in the uniform 

cannot afford a babysitter.

Caught by the clock for a long time 

Invisible chains that once were not mine

start at eight, finish at nine, 

whatever happened to all that time

the futures good, the futures bright 

make sure to wear clothes that fit just right. undercurrent, pinned by stress

why don't you wear

that long white dress?

Go to the funeral of my best friend, Strange,

coz I thought he was on the mend,

everyone said 'he is sick in the head'

now they are all being kind, 

now he is dead. 

hypocritical bastards it's time to leave

walk out alone, a chance to grieve

everything is nothing, nothing is space

I don't really belong in this awful place

Is everything I know in life not credible?

Is it all animal, mineral or vegetable?

shallow lies the fallen kind

Incredibly stupid, completely blind

frightened of being left behind

From the ground up

I plastered a hole, more appeared 

no matter how smooth or sheer another hole appears, cracks all around plaster on the ground

The neighbourhood shook, walls fell down yet houses stayed up.

Empty shells with souls corrupt.

smiles upon faces outward grins tasteless in their hearts 

evil in their thoughts, 

contemplated graces

poor souls are in slavery yet the chains are bound and kept, twisting in all directions, pay the largest threat

A stench is in the air, protruding from the ground, cleaners sweep the streets 

scrub the pavements down

wash all the curtains, paint all the cracks, triple glass in plastic Windows the stench is still around 

Have a shave

It takes all sorts to make this world

So pleased That I'm not one of them.

Crowns to gowns, down low to downs

Moorish and boorish unforgettably poorish but who gives a fuck when he's covered in muck, the class of man the same when he's run out of luck, or is it?

give up freedom, pay your tax,

eat rich food, cholesterol is fat

like mmmmmcds, kfc's

Cream jam scones and cups of teas