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