A New Year

spectrum of a spectacle having a lot 

to deny an equilibrium of  masses having not

singularity blinds the masculinity 

shrinking freedom of open vulnerability 

when the single become blessed 

cloning of a nation becomin’ the rest

free thinking replaced by a programmable mob

allow children to know to grow

dampen not the ability to show

condone a row’ in front of the kids

let them question what they have missed

have a laugh with a cry

teach them love without the shy

leave the cruelty in the sty

crudeness not done it has not a place

Comfort blessing with a smile on a face

joy is small let nothing replace

kindness is all care for the human race

Happy New Year everyone.

a piece of coal and a silver coin

my wish for all +

Give us our daily bread ‘a gift from God’

Asiage

I digress as I age, unlike the trees

brushing the land if allowed to grow

I digress as I age unlike the bees

spreading pollen then honey they die quickly 

I digress as I age love more and receive less

forlorn as a forgotten lamb on a hill

I digress as I age without the childish thrill

the urge to seem young then not

Known as ancient by the teens we have got

I digress as I age withering into silence

forgotten by god and all, alone

I digress as I age for a thousand years 

without a home

Turkey

Turkey in the field

Turkey in the barn

Turkey in the cage

Not having much fun

Turkey in the shackle, hung upside down

Turkey sliced in the blade, maybe missing teeth

Turkey in the vat to boil, loosen feathers free

Turkey wrapped before it’s spoiled, one, two, three,

Turkey in the fridge keeping it cool

Giblets in the cavity that is the rule

Turkey in the oven, enjoy it while it’s hot

Don’t forget to say a prayer & thank our loving..

….God

Gods pain

Raining again Gods tears

he must be very sad this year

It rained in spring, then it rained in summer

raining in autumn, it’s raining in winter

maybe it’s time to throw back the splinter

a piece of wood that cut his son

sharp pierced fingers then sharp pierced toes

the splinter that gorged his side

‘darkness’ the message so far and wide

Blood stained rivers the poisoned touch

from gods own hand he felt it such’

twas much too much pain to bare 

closing his eyes from blood stained hair

maybe next year he will return

to harvest the world for the world will learn

Note from author

May everyone have a most glorious Merry Christmas and an amazing 2025 love - Patrick Hines

Charles Dickens path

passing through the course of history 

ghosts are around, seeming to follow 

a touch on the shoulder here

a giggling laugh there, Music in an ear

shadows cloud out the light

swarms of drunken spirits in a fight

walking with fear during the night 

girls out on a hen do, shriek with delight

singing songs remind us why men are shit

alone lie the homeless with dogs by side

hoping to recover from the alcoholic bride

Rochester bridge painted as an iron clump

a man climbs up high, looking to jump

frozen in the chilling wind shouting away

hollows out with a kind of dismay

“please come down”……(patiently waiting)

 “I’ve seen enough ghosts today” 

save me from myself

I used to be me, you used to be you

now after all these years it’s only we

I’m part of you and you’re part of me

though bridges divide us 

a flowing river flows so fast to cross over

sometimes it seems we cannot step across

the drawbridge raises, tides rollover

six foot apart’ from a true romance

anxiety rules more than our love 

only god holds us from a touch above

we are at the time that we know everything 

we hold everything, we love each other more

we both know the score

will we be together forever or fall apart ?

in my heart you are with me eternally

I would be so rewarded 

if you never flowed through the sea

I will want you forever 

even if you don’t want me

Next Christmas

Last Christmas I gave you my heart 

what an extraordinary way to start

words that wrapped around in style

repetitively strong, lingering a while

I watched with sad memories 

as they were speaking with love 

the man that caught everyone’s heart

a special time for us all

at twenty two envious of you

a famous star good looking too

while I had nothing and was a fool

well in fact that wasn’t true 

a year later the next Christmas

dedicated to you, covered in presents

my baby girl, a dream come true

I wept when you were born

in love at the first glance 

a just victory, I wanted to dance

miracle of a child like Jesus Christ 

to think I could have one of my own

Kellie’s Christmas, wonderful 

the proof that I had grown

you; then Michael, the life I had sown

forever with me, wherever you home

eventually you would go

but I always will love you so! 

I hope you know

year 11 Breathe for now

You cannot do it”, show them that you can

“you are too young to know”, teaches the inner man

“You will never achieve”, you will if you believe

“you are a loser” a challenge from a user

take the challenge and be a chooser

refuse to be the person they see

You will lose sometimes, winning is not free

keep striving on until you see victory 

it will come one day, be patient and you will see!

 “You can be the person you want to be”

Caring Wishes - Pat Hines.

“

Waiting in the Rain

Looking through the windscreen

at the pitter patter of condensed wet

thinking rain rain go away again; yet,

here it is to dampen the reflections of life

getting prepared for the long drive

wet feet from a puddle splash

A baby cries in the distance 

comforted by his loving German mummy

then silence as he is pursuaded with a dummy

not understanding her speak 

though it was a loving tone she used

he will surely sleep on the way home

clump, clump, the rear passenger doors slam

bang, an end to the restful moment of release

cacophony of rap covered chit chat ending peace

accompanied not acknowledging existence 

turning on dab, ‘country’ radio for pleasure

a cocktail of sounds combine to the measure

listening to thoughts along the way

concentrating on which direction is best

so absurd, not a word spoken in jest

they, refusing to wear coats, opting for wet

still it could be worse teenagers we get

another car hydroplanes across the road in front

Forty five minutes of splashing wheels

a situation of mixed emotion a sentient feels

how an instant reflection can alter a mind

changing a moment of; hard to kind’

‘so how did it go’ I gently asked

not a word of reply, a nod of headphone look

home in time for an omelette still!

munching a nourishingly enjoyed meal

clean the plates, decorate the tree

then settle down to watch TV

finally dry what a day we’ve had

strictly first, cannot be bad

half hour more, a nod and a snore

that is what hard days are for

or was it the week of settling down?

with a fixed on smile, a look of a clown

thunderous wind, a dream and awake

cold in the limbs, for goodness sake

Mother Loves

Born to be a star he did not have to go far

cherished as a baby, loved as a child

love given readily, everything desired 

mammothreptive existence crazy and wild

a dangerous teenager demands a just

everything gotten must be a must

what could not be had could be got

mumma wiped his nose covered in snot

theft is a must to survive on a crust

stealing a car hidden by the rust

drugs were the ticket to an ill gotten gain

made enough money to holiday in Spain

arrested at the airport not to visit again

to him it did not matter, if it’s all the same

caught in a mall, by the fountain in the hall

shoppers listening to the music played by the band

stealing an iPad from a delivering van

surrounded by police with gun in hand

the TV news said as he gunned people down

a wrong kind of star completely out of control

inexplicably sad became overthrown 

the police shot the boy who is now in a hole

mum wept hard she could do for him no more

never knowing the reason or what Kalma is for

Scary Wind

The winds are raging away, an angry storm

birds are cowering from the danger abreast 

trees are frightened of dangerous deathly snaps

fences are barely standing on concrete posts

Pets in hutches of destructive taps

there has been a few this year

not much sun then again not much cheer

maybe soon summer will bring some

along with it some fun and lots of beer

Don’t confuse a sentence

Don’t get caught

Out, for the night all

Night, is too short to

Sleep, in tomorrow 

Instead, go to the 

Circus, is full of 

Clowns, are deranged

Lunatics in the

Asylum of life

Long live America the 

Greatest was Mohammed 

Ali ran the lecture about

Elvis was the

King

L. 2 B E….vil

Evil is in the vein developed in the brain

It does not adorn the heart given to us 

or from the line with which we came

poisoning the blood 

from evil we have seen or gained 

 

If I can give… a moment

If I can write words to heal a heart

to help someone else’s pain depart

if I can offer joy to a little child

give them a lift to be happy & calm

not over anxiously wild

have fun in the days to come

a positive outlook of joyful fun

if I can die for others to live

then I can go quietly without worry

In a peaceful sleep

to have blessings in my soul to keep

Poem of Bart shape (kind of)

A Rut is similar to a Rat with a ‘U’ instead of an ‘A’

living off scrapings left behind

No improvement of any kind

a Hamster stuck on its wheel 

round in circles 🥶 on a pleasure thrill

fragility in blindness forgone the kindness

take away the heat, eat seed not meat

three blind mice, there is one with a cane

Tick, Tock, Tick, up the clock again

dreadful goes the thought

when the creature comes

You are once again caught

all that saving for nought

See the pattern

begins the face with a Bart 

looking for a start

you cannot see

for looking at

Time to Fly

Passing the most wonderful years of my life 

four years and four months to be precise

such a wonderful place to behold

troubled in mind, yet everything concise 

doing my best for Van, Gillian & Callum 

losing my heart on love not Valium 

Ryan my friend, Ryan my boss 

Colin’s friendship, he is a loss 

the wind brought change that did not suit 

Moving along without the boot 

if things did not change they stay the same 

all my friends not one to blame

time to go, make a change in life

not even a word to my lovely wife 

feeling sad and a little blue

Jade & Carolyn, Lisa too 

thinking of the young that grew and grew

forever more I’ll think of you. 

The Robin

A Robin flew down from a local tree

while I sat on a bench musing history 

it decided to land ever so close

Staring at me with a knowing pose 

I gave a morsel of seed from my bread

the Robin ate well, until it was fed

a little chirp later flutter away

be great to see it again some day

Brothers and Sisters

Spirits all around, the mystery no one knows

guide of the Holy Spirit reality or a show

Morning onto night, not a day to delight

shiny silver dagger splinter in the heart

violent egotistical being ready to depart

never could begin, never could they start 

apologies are easy, forgiveness a strength 

love and respect, a kindness without the length 

bridging the gap of love, a blessing from above

make peace in your head before, all are dead 

Or

One way or another 

it will work out

One way or the other

Surge and Rush

Go through the door crafted from steel

for you heartedly step then slip on the cill

a window in age consumes what has gone

remember the person who was once known

the spider crawling its eight legs of craft

the vines of the history that were meant to last

be brave in the venture, strong in the choice

have the the last laugh be full, then rejoice

newly welcome yet not fully known

a day in the future of the grown

be slow to steadfast, patiently quick

understand what is expected that is the trick

Tunnel Dwellers

Tunnel dwellers living in the dark

sleeping on the ground or in the park

hands out hoping for a handful of help

From a cold careless country in a gambling belt 

Tunnel dwellers beneath the feet

of those in casinos with riches complete 

wasting millions to win or to lose

fodder for casinos from years of abuse 

Tunnel dwellers all around the globe

strength in surviving, no ability to cope

serving time until winter comes

digging in deeper in a last desperate hope

America the great with a penalised state

walk past the homeless, life is great

England the wealthy, counting a penny

those uncared for children haven’t got any

apathy rules supreme it is often seen

countries around the world are obscene

prostituting children in wealthy city’s

no care for the poor and no time for pity 

They must see the past about people’s need 

war is inevitable with xenophobic greed

governments to blame for inciting gain

billions of poor still suffering in pain

Tunnel dwellers in the dark

hidden underground, no future, no spark

the poorest of poor, children in tow

In the darkest, deepest places

unnoticed in a hole

Triggered Emotions

here at rest weeping from memories of the past

shadows of the ghosts haunting will last

simple pictures in an historical mind

remembering days when things seemed more kind

passing through life as if I were blind

The pie and mash shop, F.W. Cooke’s its name

Kingsland high street, Dalston, no other the same

Sir Thomas Abney, five to thirty-five 

enjoying the moment watching my children play

while caring for others in a kind way

a little glimpse of what once was

carrying emotions of the unworthy cost

fighting the torture, the cost of pain

hoping to never visit it, ever again

I’ll miss my family to my death

my friends that were never there to see

that’s what I hate most about me

one day soon our lives will end

then there will be nothing left to mend

Changes

Facing atrocities,committing expectations 

changes altering your choice of a happy life

not your own doing a merciless decision

stealing your worth as valued person 

downward spiralling, depressive grudge

it will not improve, by an out of control judge

discounting money, irrelevant schemes

make the changes yourself for happier themes

You inner person is not a slave

worth your “weight in gold” they say

be strong, while you live and behave

Yet changes only change

if strength in choices are brave

Richard

Set upon in a car park taking blows to the head

beaten with a blunt weapon until you were dead

your skull smashed into pieces 

Clothes tattered with creases

attacked from all around until your life ceases

They said it could be drink to help the pain

Shoppers in cars thought, ‘this is insane’

parking in town, a horrific disturbance 

should have gone to Derby to watch the races

lots of people watching, shocked looking faces

‘A horse, a horse, my Kingdom for a horse’

they were the last words you spoke of course

an angry Tudor force, suddenly became barmy

men of military brave-hearts from the local army

saw you were King Richard iii juiced up and smarmy

Last day of his life, died at 33

strong as an oak, of the royal family tree

1485 the date of your death

it wasn’t a car park when you drew your last breath

Gilly and Callum, well they go shopping, instead

A Little Green

A time of truth encompassing the winds of change

sometimes it remains the same

there is no help for a dog with mange

laughable it may seem for a teenager with a dream

youth has an expendable strength to rule the world

though in our hearts, we were all a little green

golden summer days exhibiting muscle and rage

spectacles of love arrive with the joys of spring

‘the young don’t know they’re born’ 

the words my nan spoke, I hear myself bring

to be young can seem obscene 

though in our hearts, we are all a little green

If only we could to feel youth again

wake up not feeling sickness and pain

the daily struggle of perpetuating age

being able to turn a new page

the winds of change are hardly ever seen

when they do they are almost never seen

 they can leave one feeling a little green

Sinking low

The hurt in you I cannot undo although,

It is of my making, a horrible person I can be

decisions made for small victory

I weep deeper with a drenched heart

a fail stench of misery is within

failure as the day that should not begin 

but alas the torment goes once more

can I not rest in bed and snore

close eyes and sleep forevermore

hurting you it wounds me deep

to see you cry and never sleep

I am not worthy of forgiveness 

the evil within passes into deep

I want you so much yet, your not mine to keep

The Dark of Day

In my mind I travel

the galaxy here I go

I like to see planets with an orange glow

Stars flicker in a pale moonlight

emblems of the sun shoot out

colliding nebulas have a secret spout 

there are twinkles of mystery all around

possible life in an unknown shroud

covers of blanketed pearly clouds

the light of day has to come 

presentation of our only sun

exploding colour of autumn trees

beautiful sight of bumble bees

not seen often in my shrouded life of dark

unless I am walking in the sun lit park

mostly move through the long hard days

until the clear night shows the stars at bay

I know I am not considered insane

tho’ the struggle in life has always the gain. 

Universally

Little boxes of architectural perfectionism 

Picasso cubism with a mathematical correctionism 

closest to intricacies developed from Marxism

palaces scraping high in the sky as byism 

conglomeration of structurally built colonialism 

colourful spectacle observed as stars by alienism 

reaching creationism of planets in a solar system

rewarding with humanistic caring from planetariums 

saving earth by reaching out to unique worldisms

twinkles of light across planets of spaceism

reaching communities as complete peacefulism

Bitter to the end

The shiver reaches your soul when you are alone

It cuts right through you in the damp crisp air

too long have you felt the icy wind

may you strive on in vain nothing will change

you never wanted anyone 

so no one is what you have 

alone you are until your death

Not so long after, you died alone

broken hearts stand aside to watch your going

lowering your ropes with tears in their eyes

looking into your life as through a bunch of spies

hoping to hear you say “I was wrong”

but like your life it was in vain 

for you died as you lived, all alone

everyone went away shrugging off the pain 

there you still lay in the icy cold day, alone yet again

Baggins from the Shire

Protected from a vest of Mithril, glowing sword warns of orcs so close to you, Sting’ in the hand of a brave warrior to slice the few, never before had a hobbit oh’ so brave, taken a ring of power to rule the slave

a screaming menace grasps the precious so tight

until lost in the mountain on one dark night.

The ring called the bearer in need to be free

it chose its host wisely for a greater need

a master is calling for the power to feed

One ring to rule all; the masters greed

he will look everywhere with his wandering eye

he will send kings thus slaves across the sky

on land to find the ring for the power is nye. 

he feels it and sees it, the hobbit is close

the one true precious he desires the most. 

a goblin or dwarf or twisted from the shire 

Sméagol’ called to him other self G-G-Gollum 

whichever his loss his precious is stolen! 

to follow and have at the end of day, to be with the precious for there is no other way.

He hates the baggings the conniving thief

will strangle and grab the hobbitsies’

dragons breath and fire of gold

accompanied few with adventures told

desire to sneak fore-warned a thief 

Bilbo Baggins, master mischievousness 

takes the precious and gambles stone

gives up the portion that belonged to him

Thorin Dwarf, king under the mountain 

angered to hurt beyond belief

receives a blow, the dragon gone; overthrown 

killed with the black arrow pierced on the patch

he once and for all had met his match

this story ends for now ere’ is born

the future belongs in another mighty yet small.

Happy Teenager

There you are racing happily in your vehicle of two

enjoying what life offers with your friend and you

observing your struggles of health then not

still you are young, enjoying all you have got

compared to others you have not a lot, true

cheerfully happy and often not blue 

Though a smiling teenager with all your life to give

not a care in the world for how long you could live

I have only one prayer for a child that is true

I wish all children that struggle, could be like you

keep cheerful for sad times and a day that’s blue

racing the corridors in your chariot of two. 

Always has a say

Contemplating life, it’s devastating in store

I cannot tell, for I’m not wishing to bore

thinking of a history where hurt shows no bounds

damaged with a heart that is openly found

some say I am at fault, some are correct in thought 

a fragile individual, emotionally caught

on the outside strong yet, do not belong

enough, has been said, it’s time now for bed

to crawl up the stairs, resting a buzzing head

reaction to the words, once or twice said

speak can be bitter, it is a cut like a knife

sticks and stones could take a persons life. 

forging ahead is the only way

depression dredging on, it always has a say

The book

I wrote a book about 10 years ago 

although unlike my life it’ll never end

unlike my life it’ll never be broken

never need to mend

it’ll sit on the shelf next to its friend

never alone with only itself to fend

I wrote a book 10 years ago

it’ll never be fake, decieve my heart

it’ll never be finished although it had a start

never have reason to leave the shelf

what’s the reason to read a book 

without a finish never requiring a second look. 

Winds changing chill

Whisper goes the wind in the wild fields of grey

the bitter Icelandic cold is calling to say

“better get home quick with no delay” 

“It is going to be cold until may”

“the chill is hard, the snow lay thick”

“lucky for you, your house is brick”

In a changing world for boys and girls

drains are clogged with fattened gel

seas destructive plastic waste

pour down sinks your mouldy baste

wipe the smirk right off your face

I’d rather not be here in this place

Ignorance is bliss without a kiss

never forget it could be missed

or bomb the world and wake up pissed

if it’s dark is there nothing to see?

a tree falls in a forest, it’s just a tree

when everyone dies, will Jesus see ? 

You were there

The darkness passes over a static moment

crumbling rock of volcanic liquid  in history 

forgiveness is a difficult duress within a mystery

good for the soul they say perhaps another day

pause, allow oneself to breathe, wipe it off your sleeve

soon I will be dead it’s not something that I dread

it’s an end to the life of carbohydrates and bread

I would have been nothing if it weren’t for you

life changed me, like the taming of a shrew

you were the answer to the life in a stew

pissing it up and losing a shoe

struggling emotionally of mental dread

more times than I remember, I wished to be dead

each day was more hurtful than the day before

I would be nothing if you hadn’t opened the door

cast aside dreadfully for wanting more.

I’ve never been lucky, when counting the score

Suburb

Waking in the darkness of night

the moon shapes the shadows, 

predatory creatures roam the streets of fright

Foxes screams are heard from afar

cubs hunger a cry of wah 

cars rumbling at the concrete road

killing all in their path

creeping along the street that leads into a passage 

waiting is the man with a knife 

fearful from a life of baggage

‘a peaceful little town’ they say 

then not return once they have been away

who is next to be caught in a web

for they cannot go back to living dead

Prayer of restoration

Oh lord hearken thy call

release thee from thine abominable fall

let thy clutching for joy be at the end

thy peace of eternity 

tho’ forward do send

Unquenchable Loneliness

Thy soul in darkness departed from all sense of awareness, disconnected tho’ is considered normality, untouched by reality, feeling a deep sense of unquenchable loneliness. 

A shimmering dagger placed close to thy heart, one small joust of release, reappropriating disordered whirlwind of chaos then peace.

silence as a restoration of thy soul endures a wait to infinity 

gone are expectations of inconsequential ability,

sleep for what appears to be eternity,

never to wake. 

What can I do at 62 ?

Working long hours, a life I have lived

never expected anything, had nothing to give 

promoted many times to strive even harder

still there was no storage to put in the larder

I might just quit, what else is there to do? 

for a no good bastard of 62

Grasping at happiness, failing at all

many times over there is no drop to fall

career minded slave yet awkwardly blinded

deceit is the gift from trusting in kindness

I know it ends soon then I will go home 

though knowing my luck, I’ll be digging up bones

Poetry of Rhyme

One day I decided a poet would be brave

thus started the works of colour in grey

I glanced up at the clock ‘‘twas end of the day

my heart not content but filled with dismay

for it was broken by whatever  

some nonsense I had written

forlornly rhyming gibberish 

from a soul that had been bitten

A photographer I fancied

would be geographically flourished

so began taking pictures of the undernourished

mr blobby at his best in a white chequered vest

drinking a strong looking beer In an alcoholic mess

ignorantly not realising his heart was bereft

at the end of his nightmare taking a rest

someone said a ‘painter you possibly could be’

I held a brush in my hand and began merrily

painting a shadow, a wall, a house

spreading the paint in shape of a mouse

painting skirting, as grey as my heart

sometimes wishing, I never did start

then a master came along

said ‘a painter you’ll never be’

fruitfully hysterical, at the state of me

So I turned my life around, one last time

continued writing a book longer than a rhyme

I finished the end, the beginning was next

yet the middle was difficult it flustered me vext

I gave up the job with poetry in mind 

I wrote a diddle with a middle, of a boy with a fiddle 

a poem so soulful like a steak on a griddle

a story of life going down in the puddle

a poet I cannot be without rhyme and riddle. 

Little Butterfly

Come down here or you’ll get stuck 

do not flutter and fly into what’s bad luck

you may be pretty but your daft as a brush

going to nowhere to a higher up hush

come land on my hand I will take you outside

not near the light where you may get fried

there is freedom in trust and love in my word

to do anything but release you would be quite absurd

with a little understanding it flew and I cupped

sitting for a while not leaving abrupt

within a few minutes it flew into the sky

with a flap of its wings to whisper goodbye

A gift to the world

My one ‘true love’was a man that loved his mother

A man that cared for the world

A man that tried also to please everyone 

A man that was manipulated through life

A man in love with his daughter and wife

A man with a beautiful heart

A man that spoke to each and everyone

This man loved music and was considered a king

with a god given talent more precious than any

The day he died the whole world

Fell in to mourning destroyed by such loss

I was as heartbroken as were most 

stories have been told and the truth been lost

I pray to God that he is in heaven 

I also pray that one day I shall meet him 

by the side of Jesus Christ our lord

Thank you dear Lord for a gift given to all

Elvis Aaron Presley 

A la Carte’

Im not paying for the art im paying for the food

So’ instead of leaving me hungry and in a mood

give me enough to eat, then I’ll feel full

After eating I dont want to feel hungry as a lord

I don’t want to feel hungry at all

then go up the road eating McDonalds 

Our Dogs

Our best friends are our dogs, they love to go out, waiting in anticipation and looking at us intently; which is their talk, waiting for their favourite word ‘walk’

When we go to work people left are disgruntled showing it upon our return, they rarely learn, our dogs no matter how long alone, are excited to see us, wanting nothing more than to give us a fuss, they don’t hiss and cuss; ‘not our dogs’ they love our hugs and cuddles then to sleep off their hard days sleep. Feeding them are no hard joys, eating food that is pre-baked then now and again having steak

When we go to bed they lay on the end, no trouble to mend except the extra leg room to stretch, then slowly slip up the bed, resting behind our knees then nearer our head, waking up with a kiss to check if we’re dead.

We will only have them for a few short years and when that day comes we will cry tears and tears, why do we go through it against all odds, because we love nothing better but to love our dogs. 

 

No Daddy’s rich girl #

I grew old but I did not see, the last time since you desired me

I remember my dad he told me ‘no’

You don’t go messing with any old hoe

no daddy’s rich gal from head to toe

No, No, Nooo daddy’s rich girl that can’t say ‘no’

Son, find a nice lady that you can love

a pretty little girl that won’t be shoved

I tell you this now coz I have paid

for loving everyone I have laid

they left me empty with nothing but bone

while talking to guys on the phone

so don’t go messing with any young hoe 

no daddy’s rich gal from head to toe

No, No, Nooo daddy’s rich girl that can’t say no

Swee—et as a cherry and nice as a pie

blond haired beauty from eye to eye

ve—ry tasty and a cute hello 

Great kissing lips you dare not go

So I say don’t go messing with any hoe

No spoiled rich girl from head to toe

No, No, Nooo daddy’s rich girl that can’t say no

Love & care

Enter the heart of a man alive

existentially focused on a will to survive

ministerial grimace, dreadful low fights 

struggled for always, or forever will strive 

War aimed at the poor a Thatcherism trait

unemployment is not welcome at the working gate

yet wealthy side stepping taxes is an acceptable fate

cash in the pocket of anyone’s mate

I believe in a socialist utopia 

where people can be in peace

not struggle to survive

thank not the rich for being alive

Everyone deserves peace and happiness forever

wealthy, poor or lying in the gutter

so be kind to all,  place feeling in your gut 

capitalisms  a way of living 

if you don’t mind being stuck in a rut

The fall

A Rocky Mountain, a long way to walk

desperate and alone 

it’s not worth the talk

a friend takes you under his wing

a moment in time hearing him sing 

rock is the toughest commodity on earth 

yet even rock tarnishes over fire

live honest, with a heart of truth

or grow soulless coz you are a liar

when your tired lay, down and rest

live tomorrow, get it of your chest

away awash when the rain doth fall

you will never grow old 

within the mountain call

The Price

The true cost of death is the loss of a soul

floating around houses with nowhere to go

tapping on windows, bouncing on beds

what a waste of time for someone that’s dead

Seventy years alive not achieving ought

then thrashing around dead wandering about

no reflection in a mirror, no smelling of scent

reminder in the garage is a car with a dent

spirit in a bottle, drink in hand

swallow it down then sing with the band

stumble from the pub fall into the car

crash through the tavern with the ornate bar

Mentioned as a person with a good heart

only unlucky the car had to start

a moment of joy, a will to drive home

taking a risk in the vehicle alone

Whisky to stay alive, a minute to die

randomly surprised by a fly in the eye

free to roam in absent abiss 

not a goodbye and no one to kiss

Heavens a gift for those who love life

a passionate faith and loving wife

respect for the living, prayer for the dead

choices were made so lay in your bed.

only a person, fool to be right

sleeping a long way, way into the night

take a prayer for a journey so rough

a road of hell without any love

Night Terror

How serene to be seen, walking in the park

yet not when it is dark, that is when

the monsters come out to play 

they carry you away, to where you dare not stay

Hidden in the shadows unseen

where they have always been 

In the under-grove ready; to tear at your spleen

you will for the last time, ever be seen

The wicked ghouls will first eat your heart

that is where they will start, then open your head 

making sure you are dead, kind of insane 

they will feast on your brain

A rapture of squeals, enjoying their meals 

you were walking alone with a mobile phone 

the last sound heard is gnawing your bone 

never should you have taken that walk alone

Remember that day waking up in sweat 

the blanket tightly round you, the bed soaking wet 

with heart pulsating, a dread in fear 

two thousand and twenty, that was the year! 

Do you remember?

Do you remember when

Days were at peace, feel good about the world?

Do you remember

Waking up thinking ‘this is a great place to be

I love everything especially the trees?

Do you remember 

First love, holding hands, spring flowers, summer sun

Days of rapturous fun? 

Do you remember 

Your children being born, love being torn

miracles of life were the look on your baby’s face

do you remember

much of it or snippets of pieces, why does it go?

I haemorrhage all that I am, no more do I know.

So there was it was

So sweetly discreetly, showing care sweetly

So bitter to taste in haste, a mouldy paste 

So I cried hitching a ride, a maniac by my side ?

So I was fired for being tired, wrongly admired

So I had to let it slide, again I cried until I died

A Bad Day

Today is a bad day, hoping the demons go away

like a bolt out of the blue, head starts to buzz

in dismay, the doom is not welcome to stay

So go away, far away, do not return another day.

Today is a bad day, yesterday was bright 

weather was miserable but everything was right 

easy is hard, everything is a fight

the sun is shining, bring in the light

Today is a bad day, feeling far away

unable to end it all on this good weather day

although peace would be the sway

to keep alive today, maybe tomorrow’s 

Another good day. 

Grief

A painting in a prominent place where everyone can see 

it’s on a wall, set in location; forever 

it reminds us of the sadness, the passing, the hurt

the what was to be, will ever be, never

Nothing can be done to remove the wallow of then

begin again with something, someone new

gradually sinking into the deeper of depths

slicing shreds of the scarred heart of you

Moving on from this torments hold

requiring a move from main focus

an action of emotions concretionally bold 

placing it on a corner wall, out of minds eye 

somewhere in the shadows, dark and cold

I of sound

I being of sound mind; ‘well almost!’ would like to state that on this day 24th May

 I could give up without too much sway, 

My desire is to please but not on my knees so then, 

why am I surrounded by a party that I feel uninvited to be at? 

taking suggestions as if it’s just for them to use, 

feeling alone, so confused. loneliness seems to be a trigger to thy doom, never required or required too soon, 

silence is as golden as the moon, though sharing the peace would be heaven on earth.

forever trying to be a team player without a team or so it would seem. 

I am hated, though I love. 

Not to cause a scene 

Posthumous behaviour

It was the day of blessings when I heard Elections were finally here, it is time to reflect on social care.

Look after souls that have been dampened.

disabled people require an honest assessment 

provide what the nation require for refreshment 

We can be concerned with all other problems in the world, things have to improve for every boy and girl.

Raise people out of poverty, stop daylight robbery,

transparency sought from politicians 

clear the ranks from genetic fobbery

Halt the financial train, the ill gotten gains

the wealthy hand me downs

a national population with frowns

teach children basic care for others

looking after people, mothers and fathers 

and most of all, allow people time to breathe

as a manager love your staff 

give them freedom to be with family

well enough wage to enjoy a life

enjoyment at work not too much strife. 

I am where I lay

In another life, thinking of what has gone by

I could never be judged for how hard I tried

why do I cry for it has gone ?

beaten my brow destroying the joy 

of when I was a little boy

tragedy and sorrow, dredged my heart

kept from the touching sensation apart

a wasteland of sorrow people will say

that’s where I am and that’s where I lay

Summer Blessings

I welcome the summer, colours brightly lit

the warmth radiates with a glow

Plants stretch to reach 

Summer flocks and trips to the beach

I welcome the summer, yet it does not stay long

It helps us feel better, a yearning of health

other people moan whatever the weather

I get a feeling of positive growing, of inward stealth

I welcome the summer, breaking the cold 

the summery smells quaintly old 

the feeling of joy, the heat from above

I love the summer, the summertime love

I welcome the summer, the change of spring

takes us to autumn to colours it brings

Twenty years of grey, Cars, Paint, houses

with winter they grow

I love the summer with the joy that flows.

Remembering The Few

Moving along in daily lives, head of this, head of that

Narcissistic experience, wipe feet on the mat 

they look above what they never want to see

looking forward forgetting history

During Covid while working; ‘hum’ at home

clapping the neighbours near the garden gnome

nurses and doctors, fireman, ‘my the kids have grown’

Policeman, and other key workers alone

there are quite a few that not mentioned before

the silent workers that hold the door

the people that get no victory

the poorest paid in history 

Dustmen were ignored by the claps

caretakers unblocked toilets

cleaners that cleaned the mats

bus drivers that caught the disease

where were the claps for these?

Those not mentioned here are the forgotten 

man and woman holding peace for what is rotten

uniformed and smart gun in hands 

The soldiers quietly protecting lands

The biggest political shame of all

Businesses were handed money to see them through

while they were closed and paid a few

excluding millions for a Tory trick

laundering money that done the trick

There is nothing much now; that we can do

 except have a thought for the forgotten few

The loveliest thing, a personable note

remembering all in something you wrote

Clap your hands before you rest tonight 

 remember the people that did alright

think of them and what they knew

then begins  a new tomorrow

to notice the few. 

Clubcards

I’m in the club awfully rich, unlike you, who are a bitch

Tesco, More, Nectar plus four, prices cut at a score

a secret little place consumer war

is it fair to create cuts of this kind 

when people struggle to keep unblind

A secret club to make you special

rob the blind with inflatory schedules

I urge the markets to play it fair

Cut down profits and open bare. 

give cuts to all who shop

make these special clubs all stop. 

Greedy

Ever wondered why everything is so expensive and wages are low, it’s all because of Capitalists greed, if an item is made for a penny then how does it equate to 0.50p in the shop?, the simple answer is every person that has a handling of this product along the way to the shop has to make a profit which bumps the price up.

Companies are making millions to billions of pounds in profit, when profits are down then Jobs are lost!, why? If all companies were to accept lower profits then wages and jobs would not have to suffer, let’s face it if profits were capped to a slow growth then wages could be kept at a decent rate abolishing the need for food banks etc. 

Things have to change, rich aristocracy is simply taking the royal ‘P’ out of ordinary people and then blaming ordinary people for the mistakes that they themselves make. We need to vote in a party that takes into consideration the human race as a whole and not the wealthy. Just something to think about!. 

A forever chance

Sunshine that I bequest bring forth my happiness

have it shine for one last time, 

true to word I am but thine, 

never let the thunder rule; 

the rain soak to a swimming pool

forever keep your heart for me, 

within your love my heart is free, 

a lifetime spent for a sip of wine, 

a snippet of chance our lives entwined, 

intoxicating fever with one more vine, 

the choice to choose was yours not mine, 

I waited in anticipated stare

the moments of pain, a historic fear

silently I sat with you in mind

to any other woman, completely blind

I found my queen without a shoe

My love eternal just for you. 

Little Boy

Once there was a little boy who became lost

he felt so cold within him rose the frost

not a person understood his iniquities 

other children would poke and take the piss

it hardly felt that he belonged

in this world of torture with not much song

how could he become a man?

when always down; wearing a frown

whatever he had, eventually broke

he sometimes dreamt; yet in them choked

waking up crying, desperately sad

felt so unloved; forever would

chosen choices, as he should

always alone in the neighbourhood 

poor little boy, nothing went right

he always had a smile to show

never letting others know; hurting in fight

it will remain so; keeping it wrapped tight. 

Kick

Kick back and hold your own

Might aswel coz your all alone

ain’t no fun in being coy

masticate freely without the joy 

Choice to retire; really?

Experience the thrill; taste the bitter pill

travel worldwide with a bit on the side 

enjoy life to the full try not to be dull

They’ll find you in the end-on that you can depend

The fog on the Tyne, work in the mine

black bras and bondage, will take an advantage 

them hills in Yorkshire and Cotswold west 

Meant for the young providing no rest

As a ordinary person who’d love to retire

forget your future; things are looking dier

zealous greed for money, xenophobic arsehole honey

become a stupid poet like me, care for each person

then see; relinquish anger, feel free

A Government tricks

Swindon to Gloucester, Earth to Mars

Much less pollution, less of them cars

Smokeless theme lowering torture 

Clearly blinded from an unseen future

Mum and Father have to work

They cannot claim tax from a washer woman’s dirt

Both parents pay, what about the young

Put them In an institution for working class scum

One earn for the bills, one earns for Taxsome money left for Mc’ds, to feed little MaxFollow the dream keep the filthy richThen sit down and, think!Ain’t life such a bitch!. 

Deeply red dread

Auburn hair with a ruby streak

eyes of green enticingly unique

Twas the moment a glimpse of hell

to fall deeply into the devils spell

Capture a snare and cut the heel

unable to alter the way ‘o’ feel

but it was many a year ago

when twice as stupid and twice as bold

Etching arm was a gritty mistake

Lines on the face and a deep heartache

if I didn’t die then, then there’s been a mistake

the baby unborn was yours to take

Cirencester Parish Church

The story of this church is a mesmerising tale

It tells of gods own treasured gem 

a cup of pure wine here flows

a brightly wondrous past gone by

young people rest an age and nigh

they were so very young to die.

Voices of angel boys and men

who practice strongly on and then

sing a heavenly hallelujah hymn

then back to school they curse and sin

forgive them lord for; all begin

a heavenly place to give and bring

The flag is raised a king renewed

the earl of bath is long since past

regularly passes the market square

51 transport arriving there

historically once I was the man

Who brought dissimilar ones to town

Your way through

When life becomes brighter expect the hit

when all is going right, something turns shit

if it happens then chew down on the bit

take hold of the reigns to get past it

Challenge the unappeasable that holds you down

through a different direction without a frown

if you are feeling low, and depressed 

enter a new challenge without the stress

Usually things go wrong as life appears right

there must be something, that sparkles bright 

a single thing to give one hope 

a little bit of love to help you cope

If at the end you cannot find

a reason to live, confused or blind

close your eyes then try and find

the one thing left that you’ve left behind 

Look for the good and it’s the good you’ll find.