Monday, 6 July 2020

The cursed

Goodbye my friends, goodbye the hero
Trick has fell from one to zero
A meeting chance, one last dance
From Rome in Italy to Paris in France
Closed communication
A wit, a woo
A dreadful end, a trip to the zoo
There is no sorrow
No care from you
That was the way
you know it too
Too
too.................... too......................too.

Monday, 1 June 2020

The Prince of Duplicity

He is gone, you will see him no more, along with his iniquities he has been subjected, pulled into the dark, quiet forevermore, as a fallen pebble into sand of quick, remorse shall follow him until his vision of day implodes, his soul dissipating, thus gaining a place in hell forevermore. 

Gone is he, the man of power and pause, a prince of the realm, nay a prince of iniquity, his reputation in tatters before the world to see, the difference from a fake reality, forbidden to practice highly charged sensuality, freedom no more, for gone is he, gone is the prince of duplicity.

Wednesday, 13 May 2020

The parcel 

I received a parcel addressed to someone else, there it lies, collecting dust on the shelf, I often look at it and wonder what I should do, the van man said it is for me and not for you, I could open it, to take a look inside, then again what secrets might it hide, I could take a cheeky peek but it may be something that I cannot keep, it might be mucky or something yucky it could be something rare or Lucky, I’m ever so concerned, a person could be missing out, I should open it really to find out what it’s all about but I daren’t as it’s Royal Mail and Im worried to find out now, it may belong to a neighbour or a present from a friend that they’ve saved a long time for something special to send, it’s agonising, so much I’m filled with tension, I fear it will be there when I collect my pension, okay, I’ll open it, no, I won’t, no I shan’t, no I can’t. I’ll leave it on the shelf for a little time longer until I’m feeling stronger. 

Thursday, 7 May 2020

Anticipating Glenda

Patiently she waits for the wall to fall, not only to see the sky again but to feel it, a window open to Glenda is a glimpse of someone’s life, a person that’s taken the horse by the bit, then releases the creature into an acceptable fit, it jumping with its new found freedom, leaping into the air for joy.

She sits silently, looking for change, hoping that John will come her way again, sometimes she glances him drinking tea, stroking her hair, kissing her face, like it used to be, memories bring him back for one last feint moment, yet not too clear, her memory fades just the same. 

She sleeps and in her slumber, she dreams, of her House in the sky, John is there, doing the simple things, like mowing the lawn, then she wakes at dawn, he is again, gone!. she lives in hope of those moments they are together, for when she dies, she knows they will be.....forever

Glenda is fed her tea at six, lights switched out at ten, it doesn’t matter to her, so long as she can be with him again, the carers are kind and gentle beyond reproach, they dress her in a lovely dress with a gorgeous broach, John bought it for her, when they had wed, he was her one and only living coach.

The pasture where John lay is far, far away on the other side of the U.K., Glenda waits patiently for the wall to fall, for the last time..she is thinking of the never ending moment, like two young lovers, in each other’s arms, hardly seen, on the field of green, very much in love they will be as bewildering spirits in the night, a pair of white doves taking flight. 

Forever and a day. 




Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Cyclops 

That one eyed goose showed no fear, he followed closely, he was always there, pecking at your wellies, no matter what time of year, Uncle Bill would say “bugger off out the way”, “do you mind?” But the goose would come back and bite him from behind.

Cyclops, as sinister as a wasp, chasing around, without release, in charge of the animals and rounding up other geese, Uncle Bill laughed in his ironic way, yet that silly old goose, would just bite him anyway.

Miss you both Pat and Bill, you will be in our memories forever.

Wednesday, 25 March 2020

Julian Smith to ..........?

Surrounding awareness, fog driven mind irreparable,   Satan’s guide to elusiveness, driven to despair, taking a step further away from God.

For god is the lord, shepherding as Jesus Christ at the head of a gentle leadership for survival of the human race, striving to tread blindly into the darkness, then coming through into everlasting light.

Understanding the requirements to make sense, intelligence has never forsaken me, losing the ability to gather thoughts on the other hand is preoccupying every minute of realisation to step intuitively forward in confidence.

Anger, aligning with frustration at the terrible thought of losing memory and the purpose of everything that goes with it, feeling loss of an important history then knowledge of an indescribable beautiful face that I once knew and now barely recognise, the answer belongs to my mind, whose brain has fiction and a knowledge that is hidden forevermore. 

Then follows death, eventual mortality, taken in by hope and faith, either confidence of a resurrection to look forward to or a deep dark occurrence of nothingness, Irrespective of wantoness and a condition of a lost mind.

I am Julian Smith.

I am Julian ssss

I am Jules 

I am J

I am Me, I think

I am

I

Friday, 20 March 2020

Sparkle dust Spring

Pyrus Communis, pretty white flowers, Forsythia, little golden bells in gardens, sweet cutting of a newly grown lawn, crispness of the air in the early dawn.

Narcissus growing plentiful to lighten the dark, camellia rose shrub in the Parks, Cherry blossom, beautifully tall, leaving the most wonderful flower of all, a new year begins as the Magnolia fall.



Thursday, 19 March 2020

Gracie

He looks out of the window, it’s a solemn day outside, rain is falling again, a small grey squirrel is hanging on the feeder table, helping itself to peanuts, a sparrow hides under the wing of a pigeon, cooing softly. 

The nurse startles him “you all right Bill?”,  he nods, not expecting to see anyone enter his room, ‘they don’t normally!’. 

 “d’you wanna chat and a cup of tea?” She say’s in a broad geordie accent, William nods,  “okay then, if you’re sure” she say’s, then leaves as quickly as she came in.

 He looks at the small wall, drab magnolia in colour, ‘not a pretty sight’ he thought, he then looked along the wall at a framed photograph hanging, covered in dust, the picture was a photograph of his wife and himself, sixty years earlier, ‘now’,’she; was; pretty’, he thought to himself. 

William stared at the picture, mesmerised by her beauty, remembering every, line in her perfect face, her gorgeous scent of sweet rose, to touch her skin, as soft as a silk cushion, a cushion which he now held tightly, after what seemed like five minutes but was almost an hour, he wept a deep tear, all alone, to himself. 

William glanced out of the window again, there he saw the squirrel, chewing nuts, this time it was joined by a friend, a big brown rat, gorging himself, ‘my Jake should have caught that rat by now’, ‘where is he?’, he thought to himself, forgetting that Jake’, his cat, had been taken into care about the same time as he had been taken into the home. 

The nurse entered, this time a large Jamaican woman, “well bill, are you going to talk to me today honey?” She asked, William thought ‘if only they knew my name was William’ not Bill’, then nodded, “I’ve brought you some dinner”, “are you hungry”, William was hungry and nodded, “Good, we have Pie and mash for you darling”. 

Nurse kindly fed him his food with care using a fork and a spoon, then helped him drink a cup of tea, she never checked if he required changing, then left. William was wearing a pad but was wet. He was mostly unable to do much for himself anymore, he was Ninety two, William had gone downhill after his wife had died.

William sat in his chair looking around, ‘not much to see’ he thought, he would have watched the television except he’d dropped the remote control on the floor three days ago, he could not reach it and could not ask for it.

After some time of staring out of the window it began to get dark, the sun was setting although he could not see it above the clouds on this dreadful grey day, William glanced at the Star shaped clock on the mantelpiece it said six o’clock, he nodded off. 

The nurse came in at Seven P:M, she woke William, “Bill are you awake?”, “Bill”, he opened his eyes and nodded, “why don’t you ever watch tv man, you wouldn’t doze off, you must be bored, William rolled his eyes, “Are you ready for bed honey?”, he Shook his head, it was far too early as far as William was concerned, he wanted to watch Television.

“my goodness Bill”, ‘William’ he thought, “your wet man”, she changed and washed William, then with a hoist, tucked him into a freshly made bed, he was protesting, the Nurse asked “what honey?”, William lay still, he was looking at the ceiling, he could not express how he felt so he gave up,“well goodnight honey, sleep well” Nurse said, William glanced at the time, it was quarter to eight. He lay still, awake, feeling sad. Feeling alone.

Sunday, 15 March 2020

Killer

A passion for life with a story to tell, unlikeliest confidence to chat to every girl,  he is lonely, hidden, insecure at fault, incredibly dangerous with desire that’s wrought, a dinner with one, a drink in an inn, gifts of exquisitiveness thrown in the bin, living with failure, history of sin, forger of a craft extraordinarily din.
The headline reads some tragic news, another sad story adding to the blues....... Nineteen year old, drowns in a bath, silenced with a rope in midst of a laugh, newspaper reports the tragedy and guile of a young lady of misfortune, crazy and wild.

A demeanour bright, clothes to match then torn off in the midst of a tragic fight, Walker of fashion, lady of the night, met the young man, she thought he was great but never realised that he was full of such hate, bottle of gin later, refusal of sex, as if his soul is encarcerated by some kind of hex, he had a mind of troubled beguile, paranoia felt a hated refrain, finished the girl with no thought of pain, strangled and drown the confident lady, releasing her gain.

Encountering the situation again and again, wallowing in guilt not likely without sin, desperate for passionate love to be won, the need to be a persons number one, incredibly unlikely to enjoy such fun, always wanting an unwanted run, love cannot be strangled or chained up with need, that kind of desire will only end one way, all alone with another death on another day, he could never achieve anything in any way.

Investigation, closing the net, they wanted to teach him a lesson he’d never forget, cornering the suspect by a bridge, he climbed high to escape attention, “come on down”, “we will look after you”, ‘I can’t take anymore’ he said, tying a rope above his head, ‘I never meant to, but they laughed’ , “who laughed”, ‘all of them, no one cared’ I just wanted love’. “Come down and we will help you”, born to a mother on drugs and a father shot dead by the feds, the young man tragically died that day, a piercing sound rang out from below, not the police who shot him down but the young girls father who’s daughter had drowned, there he swung, not a sound, No one knew his name or cared, come what may and one may ask, why should they?.

Friday, 13 March 2020

UK Lockdown 

Go beserk, have a rest, go to work, get it off your chest, cough all day, invincible perks, look like deaths door in a glamorous shirt, a week in quarantine, stay indoors with your partner breathing rapid and poor, inhale eucalyptus through your e-cigarette, drink some gin, you might forget, science speaks of braving it out, before you find out what it’s all about, when at last we reach the peak, stay indoors for another week maybe die from the havoc it wreaks, maybe grow a defensive streak unpopular popularity requiring a sleep affecting the weak, the poor, the old, visit a festival, go on, be bold, retrospectively cold, infected by the thousands, ten fold.



Tuesday, 10 March 2020

Passing on 

In the land of nowhere, where nobody goes, featureless darkness, where nothing grows, I can see a mist far ahead, does this mean, I have woken up dead, have I entered another plain?, where nothing is the same and everything has changed, I feel nothing, I am left without shame, no noticeable pain, is this the grace I sought, yet without any gain?, is this hell or is this heaven?, consumed by a quake, soulless, completely forgotten. 

Thursday, 20 February 2020

Contemplating Sleep

Closing my eyes, mind lingering for ages, going over the day, it’ proclaiming lies, I am punished day by day frequently remembering the anger, ‘no’ hatred towards thyselve including the varied ways that I am mistreated, often relinquishing responsibility for such actions abated, why then, oh why am I so cut by terrible happenings unrelated?, struggling, tormentiously, psychologically anxious, ending the evening in serative sedation.  

My heart contemplates every shred and ordered slice, lashing contentiously at thy soul causing it to weep deeply without release, throat tightening around vocal chords garrotting words expressed from an abundance of self destruction, a life bound by sorrow, alone as a child at play while friends form without delay, not being in or part of a team or so it would seem, ejecting every possibility of ever being accepted or ridiculous as it may seem, actually spending days being ridiculed and outcast, isolated, hardly ever seen. 

Growing slowly into a man, wound tightly by invisible chains, fearful of making incorrect decisions thus not making correct ones, a whole life of penetrating excursions into unknown movements, untraceable patterns, regrettable truths, a person reflecting worthlessness, yet a moral bounty of honesty, is this the person that I have become or the person that I have always been, hiding beneath an impeccable camouflage of hidden persona’, then ageing, acceptance of change as it derives, fearful of none, knowing the fullness of life, children to continue the genealogy with the knowledge of god in their lives.


Tuesday, 18 February 2020

A day out in Dorset

Narrow twisting turning roads, flooding deep fords, revolutionary action, driving like a lord, then engine stalls, engine stalls

Damp reality, clouding the mind, feverish storm, falling behind, slipping the slurry, on a childish grind, elasticated tyres, crash then die, just crash then die.

There she was strolling along, looking at the views, an impetuous sea gull lands on her head, the damn sign says it must not be fed, it steals an Ice cream from her hands, an ice cream from her hands.

On another day, maybe in spring, the sun would shine in Lyme Regis, alas not today, still picturesquely charming, the sea rolls on alarming, there’s only one set of young having some fun, surfing the waves, riding on high, riding so high.

It darkens now in this damp dreary place, towards the end of ‘Storm Dennis’, when it is time to go home, pretty as a picture, there’s one little face that brightens the day, he brightens everyday.

(Especially his Mum and Dads)





Monday, 3 February 2020

Klixd’ An alien in the park

In Greenwich Park where it’s stark, in the middle of the night, deserted and dark. The gates are locked, the boundary is sound, not one visitor is there to be found. The keeper keiron works a night shift, he is usually fast asleep, it’s easy with a kebab, a small tipple to the lip, sometimes its a pizza or a curry from the delli, followed by a sound of rupterous snoring, with an over filled belly.

 There is one fella, I haven’t yet said, his name is klixd but calls himself Fred, he is eighteen inches tall. Translucent blue eyes and curly wurly hair, matches his crimson red, shoes made from glittered leather wool, he has a small round bed and a small round stool, lives within a tree, five feet beneath the roots, on this hundred year old oak almost thirty foot tall.

Alongside the gravel path, with his magic stick of Oak the little man Fred began to choke while swallowing an Acorn, he waved his stick at his tightened throat, he opened his mouth, making the sound of a goat, the Acorn flew across the beautiful lush green lawn, it hit a deer, a forlornly fawn, straight in the head, knocking it out, there it lay sleeping quietly until dawn.

The little man ‘Klixd’ had crashed landed hard, while he was sleeping in his little alien craft, he found himself happy not to be dead, instead he was embarrassed to find he’d wet the bed, he immediately chose the most important action ever, washed his pants in our dreadful rainy weather, then switched on the radio to contact ‘Glixcy’ his nine inch friend as small as a pixy.

Fred gave up as the radio sparked an arc, he decided despondently to blow up his little craft, he ate an acorn on the ground of an oak to prepare a magic stick as he’d lost his magic cloak, he broke off a twig from the nearby tree then thought ‘I’ll blow the breath of fruit inside of me’, knowing that would help to be able to survive, some would say a little contrived but it was so good that he was still alive.

The very next adventure that he set himself on, was to find a place that he could call home, he looked at the Oak, so old and so tall, then crafted a door for people who are small, invisible to the eye, so others may not find, a man asleep in his pyjama hide, fred made a hollow within the tree, then spun around to chisel it deep, feeling so tired he needed a good sleep. 

A bed and a stool was to come next, he shook the stick in a rounded flex, poppety pop like a banger race,  they crashed from above and fell into place.   A bed and a stool created in Oak, a perfect little gift for this talented little bloke, exhausted all over from the crash and the fight, fred had, had enough of this dreadful night, so he took himself to bed and set down his stick as a little hazy, homely glowing light with a flicker slick, flick.

Fred stayed a while, some would call it years, to him it was just a glacxy of a Glarkxen. (Meaning only one year), it was more time than planned, he grew a long beard, it changed colour when he cheered, another colour when sad, all colours of the rainbow, but red when he was mad, he never stopped looking for a way to go home even after all the fun of playing in the snow. 

Walking to the river to wash his stick, he observed a magazine that was rather thick, on the front page, some interesting news about ‘Greenwich Observatory’ with its telescope and fantastic Views, Fred became light headed to find it was so near, he quickly waved his stick with excitement and fear to grab a lift from the same earlier Deer that felt compelled to at once assist, without any doubt and close to a tear Fred charged forward with the bewildered deer, in his voice, excitement and cheer.

It felt overwhelming to see his home planet again, 3rd planet on the right of Jupiter, yet further back by two and a half million light year’s, poor old Fred, he could not hold back the tears, overcome by the thought of his little boy all alone in the pit of cheeslegrime, Fred was heartfelt proud, he thought ‘I just want to go home to be with that glooxcy son of mine’, his  mother giver died some deckens of time ago in the grizzlegum wars meaning (war of women), I ask you, who would have a war about slimming ? , only glarkxen women.

I should lock up before I’m found, leaving the building, not making a sound, Fred noticed there was a light on in a shed next door, he quietly peeked through the window, there was a large man, head on the table having a snore, what a dreadful noise, exhaled from his hooter, the only noise that Fred heard like that, was his old mother giver’s looter, (a looter being a slugger that ironed out her figure). 

There no was some food on the table laying around, it looked better than what he’d been eating, food he’d found on the ground’ he sneaked inside, using his magic stick for a key, first he stooped in to the corner for a little green wee, then quietly climbed onto the table, he put the food in his bag, he found more in a cold box he’d opened the word ‘fridge’ in chrome on the front, some odd things he had found, something called M-ilk, something called Pie, something called yoghurt that splashed in his eye. Fred put all things in his bag, then left the shed without saying goodbye.

As soon as he arrived home, Fred took some of the human food, Pork Pie that he ate caused him to break out in an almighty sweat, he had some cheese that tasted similar to a food back on his planet called skeexse, then he drank a glass of a strange white liquid called M-ilk, it caused him to be rather scxilt which as you can guess, meaning rather tipsy to the hilt, straight into bed dizzy in his head, Fred slept for a few days, waking on Wednesday in some kind of a haze, his eyes a glaze, on this fine summer day he decided to have a lay-in until Thursday.

Week on week Fred often visited quiet and meek, to the Observatory and shed, then going late to bed, usually tipsy as the other week, drinking his M-ilk and eating his pie, munching some spaghetti, yoghurt in the eye, Kieron had noticed so much food disappearing, he thought to himself, ‘if only I had better hearing, He changing the battery on his defunct aid, then set out a plan well laid.

While pretending to sleep, head on the table, Food everywhere, Ham, cheese, Pizza galore, Kieron heard a noise shuffling through the door, it was a little man singing to himself a little dainty, words he did not understand - ‘Nixt waxys grux ext’, ‘Soxtys groixcd baxt neext’ meaning -#now what’s there to grab to eat, something sweet would be so neat#, as Fred stepped up to grab a piece of pizza, keiron lifted his head and with shock grabbed Fred, “it’s so nice to meet ya”. 

Fred went berserk, dropping his magic stick he gave Keiron such a thumping kick, alas it was without Joy as Keiron believed he had grabbed a little boy and not a small alien man as tight as he can, he held Fred steadfast, Fred’s strength could not outlast the mighty muscle of ‘Keiron O’Shay’, Keiron waited for him to calm down so he could have his say but Fred was sunken in dismay, it would take a while until Keiron would say, “calm down or it will be a delay that will keep you here until day”, Fred responded with a cry that sounded like “oooxayay”.

Eventually Keiron allowed Fred to have his magic stick after whining ixciii, ixciii, pointing at its way, causing it to flip, he put it to his ears, saying “ixciii oox” on each ear, then Fred cried reduced to tears, he sucked the end of the stick next, he became angry and vexed, out burst forth from his mouth, “let me go home, you ugly whoman, spixiii spix”, keiron replied “now that’s where we are in a fix”, “tell me who you are and we will go far”.

Fred informed Keiron “my name is Klixd, I see a whoman mother giver, walking a big furry shixp Daxs on a lead thingy”, she called ‘Fred’, I liked it, so I am Fred” He explained everything about himself then cautiously asked “pleased your sir,do not make me dead”, Keiron replied, “I will not kill you, have some faith in me and you will see, a better place to pee”. 

Fred explained about his craft, his feeling of being daft, his antics with the deer and the tree, he himself who pee’d, his son who is alone and having no fun and also asked Keiron if he could have another Hot Cross bun, he spoke of how he’ll never get home to the planet third from Jupiter, the radio on his craft that arced exir xir, had died, Keiron a Citizen band radio fan, told Fred he had another plan.

Keiron met Fred the very next night, in his shed he turned on the light, on the table was a Kebab, some wires, some bulbs, some things that were fab, in the middle a radio thingy, it had squelch, a light, a thing called a Mike, Citizen Band was Keirons hobby, he looked at Fred with a promising smile, “will this help or will it only reach a mile?. Fred waved his magic little stick and once more it seemed to do the trick, a squixy fixy thing occurred, when strange things on the radio, could be heard.

Fred listened intently to CB Radio noise, he could here Glarksen voices saying the military is waiting poised, to attack the planet Earth without a delay, for capturing their brave friend ‘Klixd’ and keeping him away, Fred replied bravely, squeezing hard on the key, “hmm’ interestingly, when will that be?”, the voice came back, speaking Glarkxen glooxy Tongue, “nine O’clock tonight we’ll be taking a run.

Fred relayed the troublesome news to keiron standing near, “never mind that” he replied “let’s have the Kebab and a beer”, they settled down to eat but Fred was in a dread, he knew he was in some trouble when choking on his bread, he jumped up immediately and keyed the CB hard, he spoke in Glarkxen language, “iox grooux ti krouxx gri card” and “ix grox ti Klixd, Eex ti roxe xowe”. Which in a roundabout way said he’s free to go home now.

The radio replied “soox soo Di minxsissos”, wait ten minutes you do not have a choice!. Fred waited patiently for a slow but quick reply then on the radio came a gooxi grammar, “see you at Big Ben Clock at three O’clock, goodbye”.

Keiron had a rusty car that sped along the embankment while waiting for the lights to change Fred looked on in amazement, a big clock shown the time high in the sky, Keiron knew it was a time on which they could rely, ten to three Big Ben displayed when the car abruptly halted, running to Parliament square, leaving Fred and Keiron exhorted. 

Three O’clock came and no sign of any craft but all of a sudden at ten past three, Fred began to laugh, some lights grew large above Big Ben, growing closer by the minute, whizzy Fizzy Glarkxen lights with Glarkxen people in it, the ship was extremely large it filled up Parliament Square, crushing a few bigger trees it was a cheek to dare, lots of Londoners looking on could do no more than stare. 

The great door slid open from the crazy lighted and round ship, the leader speaking through a speaker saying “hello Earthlings”, “toodlepip”. lots of Glarkxian people came walking down the slope, Fred was sobbing loudly with happy, expectant hope, then stepping through the crowd a familiar sight indeed, his son ‘fluxi wix” was plainly there to see, running up and in the arms of his little bouyant lad, sobbing even loudly now as if he was real sad.

finally the time came to forever say goodbye, keiron was invited to ride to Glarkxen with Fred, way up high, Keiron declined but said to Fred “please, always stay in touch” I have grown fond of you and like you very much. Soon the Glarkxens all stepped back into their craft, Fred was pleased that he was going home to be in his pod at last, “goodbye keiron my friend” I promise to keep in touch, I have enjoyed your friendship and food very, very much.

The door soon closed tightly, on the fuzzy lighted ship, then slowly lifted off the ground to sounds of ‘oopsxy gsssh’ , away the ship passed, too soon, out of the Earths atmosphere, all that could be heard behind was the sound of the Londoners cheer. 

Wednesday, 15 January 2020

Blackheath

Refined and wealthy, reminiscent of a great Britain with a glorious past, stooped in monarchistic history, a warm aura of familiar peace, houses bedded in by acid rain, orchestral educational chime, surrounded by the mean of time, great observatory view of the sky, blackened soil under foot Rhododendrons pleasing to the eye, a peasants revolt would be welcome here, if you were born long ago, in another year, now the grand piano, untuned by rust, dark green ivy squeezes brick to dust, exonerated with forgiveness, John the Baptist church, loved  by ancient duty, Blackheath quaint all over, since my memories of a child, sadly now lost in transition with the traffic of lorries, cars and buses running through wild.



Tuesday, 14 January 2020

Lillies 

I observed Lillies in the garden grounds, elegantly growing, spectacular natural gold blooms, such a shame, a week later perished, red beetle bug the size of a penny munched the stems, until there wasn’t any.


Saturday, 7 December 2019

Almost gone forever

Golden Leaves fall in the breeze from a ruthless rupturing storm, the oldest trees are holding still with vigour, strength and brawn.

 Forests here remember an age they spoke with a thunderous call, to those now gone before mans birth at the beginning of Earths first Dawn. 

 winter approaches cruel and fast, a grand old oak stands tall, wondering when the year will end, he shakes with cold and yawns

Friday, 29 November 2019

Passed through in the night

I stroll through life without a purpose, surviving every storm, the rain falls almost everyday, it’s  to seem the norm

If the sun does not show itself soon, then.......


I’ll be gone. 


Not even knowing. 

Sunday, 3 November 2019

Siblings 

Brother grown down, rocked to and fro’, forever fornicating with a guitar string low, brass section of trumpeted blues, impressing the world with the musical news, should have seen him wearing wide brogue shoes.

Brother lost or never found, superiority earned at a distant sound, worry often of the impetuous fiend, some are worthy, some are deemed, ridiculous situation or so it seems, mostly swims like a trout, right direction, wrong stream.

Sister warm, the comforting kind, sometimes astute, sometimes blind, a caring nature will die for a cause, neglects herself as nature calls, angry in retaliation for being a fool, hurt real easy yet stronger than all, loving sister to everyone and all.

Sister burdened by feelings of grief, intelligence of a martyr, clever as a chief, artistic hand shows a beauty in the heart, quick with humour, early to start, never had time to finish what could have been, wondrous places where she should have been.

Saturday, 2 November 2019

......~**

‘Tis a bitter storm that changes                    
colour to black, quick                                
ere the moment twists our fate  
Ye’, a cruel ghastly flick. 

What a commotion

Blink, irreversible ripple wave, sleep irrevocably saved fall on a hardened floor, destroying foundations at war caution be the sign, if req...