The Belvedere auditorium

On a cold, damp, colourful Autumn day , I arrived at the crossroads where gasps of a blustery gale were clashing into a vortex, swirling everything trapped within an invisible theatre, I sat within my vehicle frozen in amazement, stopping to glance as if in a trance transfixing my glaze, most would not have seen, instead noticing the wonderful building of All Saints well presented and quaintly built with brown and white ornate stone or the little elderly couple shuffling along, wrapped up with elegance and scarves holding hands, drenched in historical affection, not the mere sight of leaves creating a scene of pure beauty, dancing colourfully, setting the scene of the most glamorous ballet to bestow an audience, a large black Crow sitting comfortably on the pleasant wall, picking at a chip acquired from the foyer, so called the road where many quaint yet tasty food items can be bought at a reasonable price of mere diligence and patience, then the scene erupted into a finale’, swept away from existence by a trail of moving vehicles in transition to all of the most amazing places that anyone could imagine, it was then’, I could hear the trumpets and brass section wakening me from my trance at the end of the dance, horns of plenty from behind reminding me the show had finished and it was my time to depart the Belvedere auditorium.

A day in the death.

“I don’t blame you!, you simply were not thinking, You had enough on your mind, I don’t blame you for being partially blind, well I also had things to do, rather than being struck by you, still I’m not angry, what could you do”?.

“I don’t blame you!, for being in a stew, considering all the things that you had to do, but did you have to choose that day for behaving that way..I really don’t know what to say”.

“I don’t blame you!, you have children to feed, how were you supposed to know I had children too, now they are all alone without any precious care, fending for themselves, well if they can dare. your not to feel bad in any way, I just feel like having my say”.

“I don’t blame you!, although it’s mean, leaving a defenceless creature such as myself, perfect in every way, I narcissistically say, flattened on the ground, what was left eaten by a hound, later that day”, 

“I don’t blame you!, the little angel said, for ending my life and putting me to bed. “Well you see, I dreamt of this, so this is the thing!, I wanted to be in choir but not so soon, a hymn I will sing when the bell rings then I’ll gladly  receive my Squirrel wings”. 

Familiar Song

From Queen Mary’s to Thamesmead, all day long, different faces replicate the same familiar song, a melody of true emotion, perpetual fabrication. Never ends, but freely Goes on and on and on like Ariston. 

“I’ve lost my Oyster, Oyster, Oyster, I’ve lost my Oyster Oy”.

“I’ve lost my Oyster, Oyster, Oyster, I’ve lost my Oyster Boy”.

Sometimes it changes tack, with a different verse, yet everyday the story, gets worse and worse than worse, like poetry emotion, a humble choir sing, the truest dullest tone, the same familiar ring. 

I’ve not received my Oyster mate, My Oysters damn well broken  

My Oysters broken, broken, My Oysters damn well broken.

So if you see a lonely child just trying to get along, off to school, college or work singing the familiar song, ask them to hop on fast so as not to be late, for arriving at their location, to climb the bloody gate. 

Suicide or a Bacon Sandwich?

Is it me?

Is it my destiny?

maybe it’s time that I resigned.

place a rope tightly around my neck.

what the heck.

they’d only notice for a week.

It’s not a friend that I seek.

I am me, with dark thoughts of my own.

care for a while but mostly alone.

words in my head will not stop

troubled by not knowing

what the hell is wrong!

so, so tired and not very strong

feeling I simply do not belong

from a child, where did I go wrong?

dream of a million pound, a sleep at night.

does not make any difference.

I’d  still awaken in the morning,

with a pain and a fright.

It’s time now, time to go.

I’ll make it quick 

I was always too slow.

or maybe I’ll get up, have a bacon sandwich

then I will know!.

Roberto

“Roberto” gave no answer when his name was called.

“Roberto” was dreaming away while gathering his mood.

“Roberto” on an adventure in a Jungle scene.

“Roberto” listening to music, singing a tune.

“Roberto” was at a Junction waiting for green, his railway track was the largest he’d seen.

“Roberto”, “Roberto” “will you come now”?.

Roberto was wandering through a magic land, the blue sea that captivates, the warm smooth sand, as the day darkens, the turtle lays eggs, the stars in the sky light up all there is to see, the wind is blowing to tremble his knees, he turns around, inhales deeply to breathe it in, then wondered to himself, when did it all begin?’ while dreaming and thinking he heard a sound, then stopped what he was doing to look around, his mother had entered the room, he had been found!.

“Roberto” you coming for something to eat?

“ Yes mum, I won’t be a minute my battery was dead, I had to recharge my chair, I’m hungry now” he said. With all the adventures He had been on, Roberto felt that he could eat a Horse..but so long as it had lots of Ketchup of course!.

Harry ‘The Boy’ left home

“Silly little fool, 16 years of age what’s he going to do, a mere slip of a boy?, typical of Harry to do this sort of thing!”. “Don’t be too harsh Mum,  it will all be over and done within weeks, then Harry will come home, with his tail between his legs, no doubt”, “Harry will come home”. 

Harry, felt empty and cold, his father Missing in Action, lost two years or more, Harry did not understand this war, he felt it was his duty, confused and lost, he signed up at the local army recruitment they were asking for more, he thought ‘I will be home’,” I will come home”, his letter assured, pretending to be 18 and sure.

No more than a month after training at war, Harry fires his gun at an unsuspecting hun, the man went down screaming in pain, with a knife in hand, Harry went to complete the job, he was about to finish the poor wrench, the man said “please, no’ I do not hate you, I have children, look”. He produced a photograph covered in mud, Harry had never seen such a beautiful family, a happy five, together looking so, at ‘peace. Harry was wild, lost his temper, he stabbed the floor and growled “i dreamt of going home, I hate this war”. “I want to go home”.

Harry helped the Man ‘called Gunther’, a connection was made they hid in a bunker for three whole days then along came a sound that evermore drew closer, Harry knew he was lost when German voices were heard. Gunther spoke first “hier drüben”. surrounded by Huns Harry knew what to do, gun to his own head knowing and accepting his end, then Gunther said “no” hand to stop “I am your friend” Harry broke down in tears, “I wanted to go home”, “I am your friend” Gunther replied, “Home you will go”. 

Harry was kept isolated, in captivity surrounded by Germans, although treated fair, he felt tired, was losing his hair, it seemed an ages after interrogation, Harry lost weight, at night was kept chained to an old iron gate, for months, maybe a year, then one morning, he could hear, washed by a bucket of ice cold water, fully clothed, he was told by an officer in the know, “you are going”, “where” Harry enquired, “some where else for a long time”, he was told, bundled into a cart, wearing a blindfold, kept dark, Harry expected his life was at an end. Harry wished to be home, to just be going home.

It was night when Harry was taken out of the cart, blindfold removed, left in the dark, chained to the beam of a horse in a barn. He slept as best that he could on some dry straw, sprawled about the floor, morning came, a stream of light woke Harry from his slumber, a man stood above him in a cream woollen jumper, a gun taking an aim ,pointed to his head, Harry thought of his Mum, thought he was dead, a vision of home, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding...Home in bed.

The man spoke to Harry “do not worry”, a voice he knew, looking up, blinded by light, then into the dark the man stepped forward, Harry gathered his sight, “my name is Gunther, Harry knew, within seconds, knew,  “you saved my life” the man told Harry, “now I will save yours”, “you will work on my farm, then go home”, “eventually you will go home”.

Three years later, Harry’s wish came true, Gunther said “your going home”, friends he had made and was never alone, Gunther invited him as family, and forever more would be, Harry’s mother was overjoyed when she saw Him first, crying and screaming “your home”, “Harry, you’re home”, father missing, still gone. A boy went away, a man he came home, a man that lived as promised came home. 

Gunther died in 1972, Harry was with him,  together to the end, a lifelong friend, an enemy at war, he never had to mend, Harry had memories, pleased not to forget, his children’s grandfather, Gunther was a special man, the best friend and father to his wife. The best father-in-law a man ever met. At last he too was home, in peace, at home. 

John 3:16

I’m so sad, it can make a person mad. The ignorance of many with a narrow point of view you have to ask oneself.. am I one too?.

He came to save man and woman, without scythe and hammer, no hardened rules, no stutter or stammer. 

Without any sin, he saved and healed, no malice or feeling of ill, the blind could see, trapped set free, accept Jesus now to free you from sin, eternal life is given by him.

Simple verse and an act of god when he was put to death upon a cross, a clear message with a point of view ‘believe in me and I’ll save you too’. 

                ———————————-

Message in hope - I love my family and friends, there is no place that I’d rather be when I leave this earth except heaven, there is no’ nothing!’  as some would have you believe. To be with all the people that I wish to be surrounded by, such as Nan, grandad, Mum & Dad is a hope that is worth keeping. It’s a hard world, every so called god talks of revenge and evil response to an action except Jesus Christ, I’ve made my choice... Have you? 

War and Austerity

I sat down to reflect on a history of thy own

I am old now and weep to a song, a sad story is mine with all that have now gone.

I saw a vision in thy mind a beautiful woman singing at the worn old butler sink, she has the voice of angel, I cannot speak, I listen intently to every word it’s a little dainty about a bird, she whispers soft and perfectly in tune, it fills every inch of this tiny little room. I heard that she sang on a stage when she was young and not a mum, she has a frame that is small yet to me she is the biggest person and ever so tall, she holds me up when I fall, she is more than just nice, loving and fun, she is more special to all.

I see a man about forty years old, he speaks of the Second World War, of the men that were bold, he showed me a house that was bombed, a church too, the street replaced where houses were few. He was a fireman at 13 years of age, just helping out due to his tender young age, I never heard enough, for I was too young to care, I just wondered why he had no hair, however I would give the right answers and longingly stare. 

1945 seemed ages in the past, in the 1970’s we were having a blast, with T-rex’s Marc bolan and slade’s noddy Holder, Elton johns big glasses, singing rocket man to the classes, I had no time to hear besides it seemed like...... well ‘just gone’... I wish I heard more of mum and dads sweet song. 

My aunt always bathed in my other aunts flat, my uncle paces the streets and is not allowed back. Vic likes a doughnut and an apple baked with fruit, the ulcers in his stomach reacted badly to suit. the siren at the end of the street warns us of floods with a hum, the old are scared, it makes them numb, for reminder of war and what was to come.

The old man would chatter, the old woman said “shut up, you don’t know what your talking about”, they never argue or shout, not for thirty years, grumble or moan just sit there holding hands, would not leave each one alone. Grandad died 2 days after Nan, together in the same ward, he wanted to see Her safe and on her way, then he spoke and said “I can go now”  closed his eyes and idled away. 

I wish the world were better and in some ways it is, I would not want to live without her sweet kiss, then I think, of the cold we now live in, no not the weather,  the hardness of others and the damn awful sin... the judgement of the poor, sadness of the lonely, homeless and weak, all to do with greed for the money that’s  saved and the money we seek.

 Neighbours never leave their doors open anymore, perhaps they are just waiting for the next world war or they are bored with the peace, the money, the hundred year lease. Ant is a hero, his life has gone bad, overwhelmed by the good and mattress filled clad, can’t you see people, everyone’s been had. Cancer from pollution, what makes you mad?, it all been forgotten, that’s why I am sad.

History of a great war has long since past, far too few story tellers, now children fight in action clad iPads, killing with realism on PS4’s networked headphone speakers and VR wars. Drones fly high across the sky, illiminate the wicked and justly unseen, while the operator of the fast machine sits comfortably still to drink his tea, receiving a medal for bravery. 

Where is sir Winston Churchill’s legacy, the British fought to bring an end to Hitlers Joy, to destroy tyranny, live with dignity not in a land with hypocrisy, bureaucracy, Tom foolery, we pay off yet still owe more, give to the rich and steal from the poor, we still owe more, austerity is making people suffer, is the country worth saving...my grandchilden are bright, clever, will they be fighting? what for?, let’s hope they find peace and not war, will the Brexit farce,100 billion in brass, be furthermore suffering for the poorer class?.

Wires Crossed

The world over people living in squalor, poverty wealthy and rich are sad and depressed, twisted mindfully by an imaginary friend, the better or worse side of him, her or me. 

Positive thinking is fine when your positively perfect, are you perfect? In such an imperfect land, is the great house you bought or built lying on sand?. I don’t care and don’t want to know, now we’re getting to the crux of it, we reap what we sow.

Every person I meet desires what they seek, try telling that to the neighbour who is tired and meek, we sat and watched television for the entire week where did it get us? like the Tower of Babel, unable to understand when the other does speak. 

Turn on the light for the entire earth feels, the tenderness of sargasso, the loss of its eels, was it merely a breakdown in communication, I’m not listening anymore, you have all your wires crossed, I am afraid you’re a bore.

The wiring in a million houses across the earth all give light, intelligent people understand it’s the same,  work out the colours then you cannot be to blame. Go get a gun, find fortune and fame or die in a gas chamber, it is only a game. 

I’ve reached nowhere and climbed many mountains, not knowing which path to take, an intellect wasting time exasperatingly deflated by failure, fifty years in the making, would have won a prize had I not stagnated. 

Dermot

A hero inspired the neighbourhood devoted to his passion, he often cried when on a losing side, he was the pinnacle of obsession.

It is with such passion great things arise, however being too emotional, then he was cut down in size. 

I have no right to be here any longer than him, have not achieved anything, I’ve never had a win.

Arsenal, Chelsea, Blackpool, football has lost, a heart treated Crawley and mean, the best the footballing world would ever have seen.

I know this all to be true, he was my friend in my inevitable youth, we played cricket, football and all kinds of games. Like knock,down,dinger and blind mans buff. 

I would like to have said please don’t, just have fun, life is better all round when your not trying to be the best. He would have been a loser like me but a living one. 

'IT'

We tread carefully with the mere thought of getting it so dreadfully wrong, one may ask what ‘it’ is?. Is ‘it’ the walk of life?, the work we do and the love we hold so dear?, is ‘it’ that everything we cherish could so easily turn to dust with our fear, a nightmare beyond proportion fighting for survival, striving for success then at the stroke of achievement like a wonderous ice sculpture the weather changes to dissolve all that is beautiful into water.

Our ways as homosapiens meaning ‘to be wise’ go forth with the ability to survive, to be the most attractive man, she is the petal that must be plucked and in order to do so will smile with dignity, to be set as a rare orchid singlely displayed in a meadow of poppies frozen through a winter chill, then all of a sudden there is a spurt of joy, a warmer climate dramatically climbs high into the sky drawing the moisture away thus remaining the only flower to survive and win through with courage to the end.

Man' with a strength of conviction and willpower becomes whatever he desires to warm the heart of that lonely orchid, yet after seasons of change from urgent beginnings wilt into that empty nothingness we all eventually endeavour, leaving a gaping hole, falling through, on and down, until everything that once was open and light deepens into a black hole, yet what adventure awaits on the other side. 

Apathetical incorrectness

Tyranny is a ridiculed master, greedy for success of position and wealth, a success story of thwarted cynical evil
Power is a condition of the mind threatening control over the fearful to speak out the truth or  to believe in an alternative opinion, lest they be deceitfully destroyed
Capitalism although intricately designed for the growth of wealth for all, is a tool which the haves of power and tyranny use for the excuse of controlling the nation, blaming the poorest for wanting something that they themselves  abuse to the end of their own greediness.
Xenophobia is a hatred of foreigners adjoined with racism to gain the same end , it is a condition brought on by a fear of people different to ones self, the same as pointing out a spot on another child’s face in school, a person with a disfigurement that others dare not look at. A person mistreated for being weak. It is a strong tool used by politicians to gain power by evoking fear into the heart of everyman and woman in the street which has by deceitful means of the government brought the United Kingdom the vote of a Brexit from the European community, the obvious reason for this would be breaking down of Health and Safety regulations including protection of workers rights for obvious gains.
Fascism is a combination of Tyranny, Power, Capitalism, Xenophobia, Jealousy, hatred, fear. not purity as Adolf Hitler would have had the world believe. No it is an evil, a cold hearted  greedy collector of wealth by villainous means it can and must be overcome by the masses of Good hearted people all over the earth looking around at each and every person as another ordinary person that requires food, a home, a car, a Job and a loving family, putting aside age, gender, race, wealth and any other idiosyncratic reason for jealousy or hatred of others because they are different. Fear is also the enemy within everyone of us.
Or maybe I’m being simplistic

No historical statute left by S.A. Scope.

Once proud England stood low on the mountainside, the greatest war lost with no last post, greediest of worms weakening the foundations of the pure white suited host.
Blue blood is the colour of the already dead corpse that defeated the dove, incomplete without wings, peacocks of the millennium hoodwinked, magpies claw away remains of roadkill, minority fleeing, congratulatory sings.
Era ended away to crumbling farcical amusement, reducing at a level of absurdity, crime in the hood, needles of a drug addict, not exactly a peasant revolt moreover a joining at a level of accomplished nothingness with beauty.

Af.....is.......let...

Dear ...........
I don’t know how to begin this ...... ...........leaving for a most important.......... I may  not return due to the dangerous conditions as there are lots of.............. bastards will know. Further more can you visit.............. Next year. I hope to see you at............. winter cheer with a beer and a Happy new.......... car is in the wash........... as I am selling plenty of them at................. the time to go and collect the dosh. Please give my love to............. all the beautiful.................wildebeest are amazing.....................torn apart by lions or grazing, anyway I...................... closing, make out what you say, I’ll be coming home in.......
Au revoir
Patric....

Sweet Little Creature

In the dark shadows where the deepest doth lay, beneath the brambles on a hot summers day, hidden underneath the bails of old hay is a sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May.

A collision of thunder, a pelting of rain, a cool bitter winter stands in the way, snowy covered fields on a icy cold day, but it does not destroy or change the mood of the sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May.

Enter the spring when the winter has failed, beginning new life with all that’s allowed, soft soil found from trodden old leaves, planting afresh dispersing the seed, yet “what happened to the past?”  You hear some of them say, the hedgehog laughs on, still hidden away to the sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May.

New Born starting life every place around, there are lots of baby kits around to be found, a new little owl has fallen to the ground, a feed for a fox teaching her cubs silence, not making a sound. “It’s a wonderful time of year” some would say, except the sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May, sadly fell  asleep and died on this day under the bail, of rotten old hay.

Rethink

Wile away, while I am away, waste your time staring all day for you might miss something if you turn away from the fireplace clock that ticks and tocks from June till May.
The futures in the past, if we’ve  learnt from our mistakes, fashion once again bell bottoms at a stake, not likely with those high waists.
I keep fit, thinking hard about it, that poor horse  has a bite on a bit, like chewing gum, what an ache in the jaw with a gnaw, better than a bite in the head or the bum
Once upon a time when I did not have a dime (or a penny) could pull a piece of string through a needle, now twine is like a rope, I hope I get that letter from the queen. I hope.
Heads gone crazy, busy or lazy, I cannot clear my mind, “no I’m going to town, what’s with the frown, “no I don’t remember booking that circus to see a damn clown” . “I know he is five and it’s his birthday, oh he is six, is he my grandson?, no need to get shirty”, where did it go?
It’s despicable, unpredictable, Tuesday night I went for a walk and was hit by a fool on a bicycle, he never apologised, not a word, worst thing is he never heard the rude things I called him, it was dark, there are 25 thousand traffic lights in the uk, where was I ? Okay.
Look in your wing mirror, a little bump could cause misery to an unsuspecting jerk on a motorcycle, my, my, red is a beautiful colour, depending on your point of view.
0800 3627784 been buying PPI since 1984, “no I haven’t had an accident”, “JW take your foot from my door” remember religion can be a bore, yes, the beatles were top draw, "you throw the dart mate and ill keep score". "Please take me off your List!.
light a candle for your friend, he’ll never send the message, he could not send or eat dinner with us again. I’d love a fish tank, 500 gallons should do it, no I can’t swim.