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.