Genealogical Emptiness

I tasted your bone devouring loss once more

 holding you close within my heart

the gravelly taste of dust and stone 

has proven you are gone 

 slamming shut life, the last door 

A  heart thumping realisation, 

I am more alone now; than I will ever be

torture of a heartbreak that can never be free

hope to close my eyes then never again to see

desire as belonging, born before time,

understanding little, infusing rhyme, 

gentle, kindly, loving soul; somehow a crime

to be alternatively meek, others see weak

 rivers are from mountains, paradise we seek

Forests of Doom

A muster of trees,  strong in their talk

they hug one another closely 

Holding fast at the stalk

growing tall,  leaning back, outward and keen

an argument, they have thwart, or so it would seem

Clearing leaves in the winter 

the wind it doth’ blow 

a little woodpecker is making her hole 

a large Douglas fir, keeping distantly lone

he steadies his feet with nuts on a cone

Wild winter passes, the kings bows are strong

everything is fine until them people come along

Hacking down forests, killing the young

making a clearing the grumble has gone

trees stop talking, sadness has come

For everyone knows, there’s no strength; in one

the future looks bleak, man does not learn

kill all the forests with peril they’ll learn

a breath of the cold in the darkness of night

the only air left, if not willing to fight

city’s of finance, toxicity in its girth 

no trees to fell, no life left on earth.

Under a cloud

I prayed this morning “dear lord I’ve had enough”

with all this bad weather clouds of grey cloth

I am not sure he can hear me in heaven above,

emotions so waywardly lost in dissatisfaction 

if only life could for once move in my direction

I would shout out loud in declaration 

I must be grateful really

eating sausage, eggs and bacon 

lasagna with a few Lardons 

may they be enough to beg my pardons

Michael Marland, Woodberry down

Head Teacher - Woodberry Down 

Michael Marland was a force in education with many ideas that led forward a revolution in social teaching, a great man with a peculiar look, my head teacher. for those who met him. This story in the independent helps him live on 

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/michael-marland-headteacher-and-educationalist-861291.html

This world

In this world an alien lives, 

he moves around upsetting the balance

struggling to level out, never can advance

What is it all about ?

If the world stops revolving 

could we fall into demise ?

collapse into darkness with no ability to rise

An alien lives in this world

affecting our decisions causing divisions

ugliness in nature, minor things become major

have you thought; we could look in the mirror

stare hard only to find the alien that we see

the person we are looking at is;

either you or maybe me. 

Old Heart

Life goes quick and I find myself at sixty

It can be hard and it can be tricky

I’ve never knowingly; known the way

I’ve never ever knew; just what to say

I have good days; on odd occasion 

Mostly I cannot work out the equation 

I think I’d try hard and be promoted

for some reason not known, I end up demoted

hurting with self absorption, stupid though I’m not

cleverly disguised discussion; I haven’t got

remembering a friend yesterday; his past

mourning his existence, will forever last

too many shattering thuds, leave a heart of glass

too many failures for hardened graft

read no more, I can hear you laugh

Snow

Snow lay heavily around on the ground, 

It crackled with a snapping, cracking sound

the bin men refused to come this day

due to the high hills, along the way

“what is the point in it” they say

“the rats are frozen anyway”

instead they chose to grit the roads

except my cul de sac; it is forbode 

too far away from anywhere that matters

close knit houses with lots of chatters

cars on drives; snow turns to ice

not home for a day but twa or thrice

hand full of bad luck #

I received a letter, just the other day

it told me of fortunes that were coming my way,

of money and wisdom and joys to behold

the glistening treasure buried in gold 

the torture of freedom are promises bold

that leave you so broken and out in the cold

a promise of heaven would be a delight

Yet it leaves a man struggling to put up a fight

A cheque through the door, made me sixty quid rich

the very next letter was oh such a bitch

Fifty nine forty it said on the bill

Sixty pence change, just seemed so unreal 

for the torture of freedom are promises bold

They leave you so broken and out in the cold

a promise of something is such a delight

a wanton feeling of something that might

today was the day that I might win again

to lose all that money would be such a sin

yet when I cashed in yeh feeling so smug

I was mugged in an alley by a  desperate luck thug

for the torture of freedom is money I hold

It could leave one broken and out in the cold 

the promise of something could leave you instead

at home and alone just crying in bed

Yehess I think I’ll just lay in;…and dreeam instead

A questionable existence

As I stand further in the future from the innocuous past; let thy judgement be steadfast and brutally true,

for the kingdom be chosen for the maker of all things;

then the wisdom  begets the reality of my tragedy.

I know of not why the bequest of one’s righteous existence be lost upon the heavenly realm; Thy splendourous iniquity is judgment upon thyself; not I that have revisited a destined mortality, be it of my own choice; thus an end of freedom to choose, yay a choice of gratification from this, my disastrous being. 

a golden harp be venture of which I am coursed for me, it is not, my love is the sound of true cello, my soul cries a violin of an emotional bleed; for which I have no talent to play, though I pass into nothingness, If it be not gods way. then prevail.

Memory of you #

Looking out the window is where I like to be

way up high in the sky looking down at the sea

the claustrophobic pressure is too much to bare

Yet looking out the window, I can see everywhere 

 Yet it’s so true, that I’m feeling blue 

coz the memory in my mind 

always leads me back to you

The clouds are so surreal, the sun shines across

a feeling of peace inside and not one of loss

Oh England is so green and so is Ireland too

most beautiful of landscapes in the sky is a hue 

Yet it’s difficult to see, why you bothered with me

perhaps that’s why I’m feeling so blue

Coz I still have that memory of you

As we descend on the flight path at five hundred feet

the ground pulls us downwards 

We’re back upon our feet

the heat hits me sideways as I step down from the plane 

I turned to grab your hand my love

but your gone away again

yet it’s so true you’re gone and I’m feeling blue 

coz again it leads me back to the memory of you

it leads me back to the memory of you

the memory of you

Scattered pieces

No shadow of turning, look into onward

I shall not be returning 

steadfastness in my wake

forward strident steps I take

yet when the darkness closes in my haunted past is here again

‘O’ where is peace for thy soul to rest
 hungry wolves are at my breast 
  thumping, jumping heartening thud
forgive me lord for there is no rest

 a hatchling sparrow falls from the nest   

with a golden crown upon her crest 

Sadness in my glance, which they judge

quivering tremble of a beaten cub

misattribution of a splintered grudge

besets the future, lays a fragile bludge

fresh running stream that instead

Is a path to the life of a settled trudge 

The world we live in

Would the world we live in be a better place

where corruption were not so commonplace

Londons streets aren’t paved with gold

escaping for a life that’s  bleak and cold

 A place they kill the poor, the weak, the old

Insurgence of a friendly ghoul

trust your vote to a cretinous foe

things would never ever be the same

if blue blood boiling weren’t in the vein

Trust no one with a thumping hand

the kind that falls but never lands

a politicians spew of drunken lips

Look for the stain of piss on zips

rise up from deep then trust your wit

be of strong heart look out of a pit

darkening the rim then pouring shit.

Upon you heads the blood stealing nits 

Never again control your soul

Eradication of money 

a freedom we will know

end of greed a capitalist creed

end of hatred from the people we bleed

feed the hungry abolish the greed

give the world the love it needs 

Pictures of our own

Every memory for some a reminder of once lost

 triggers a a time of joyful emotional cost

pray for the moment your soul is at rest

an extra vacation of forgiveness 

away the anxiety be it a hardened crest

then be still lost, with no caress

The feeling long past can restart justifiable pain

yet, maybe a reminder to never return there again.

No way off

Each day fades and is done, 

retrieval of memory from the previous one,

Tired, so tired of the following to come

not knowing where this roundabout begun

there is no way off until the trial is gone

Hateful Heart

Gone are the strays and waifs that walk the streets 

Gone are the right wing thugs that steal your beets

Away goes the truth, the friendly face, no disgrace

In the past are the fascist tellers of whitened hate

Lift your arm you encourage hate

wearing a swastika at the garden gate

do not come around here with your rascist spate

the dance will not die, freedom is fate

Wealth is the knowledge of a brothers love 

different nations and a protective glove 

Open barriers and borders too 

Share our food, our wealth, a collective stew

Learn with knowledge, grow together 

give each nation a hand, welcome all those  

from another land, most of all find peace  

let go of the hate with a thousand year lease

Look from glass

You look at the world without a smile 

Moving inadvertently for a little while 

Catch your breath then begin to choke 

Shouting inappropriately beyond bespoke 

For a tiny moment you fall asleep 

Eyelids flutter as if to peep 

Some speak of kindness to 

Relinquish life, Stop the pain 

Never let you be born, again and again 

Pure births for a righteous stake 

Perfect people for for perfect sake 

Accept the reason for a clinical race 

Without a blemish, no mark or trace 

I Listen to your awesome sound  

The youthful joy, a colour found 

No judgement on your face of hate 

No anger when I come home late 

Your imperfections are perfect to me 

The love I hold for you is free 

You bring joy if only for a while 

Unique the way you live in style 

To lose you soon would break my heart 

But understand,  I would try to start 

you will not be able to stay too long 

Yet to be with you now fills my heart with song!  

you will be with me always, even when your gone 

Release

A surprise capture, release in the wild 

Fear on his face as a little child 

Into the field, through the woods 

Away he goes, like I hoped he would 

Put off the way

where the cold wind blows 

Snow covered hilltops  

Icy covered roads 

Slipped on the slate 

Metro has a crash 

The little red car 

A fix cost too much cash 

Out in the sticks  

Wondering what to do  

On the way to Kent  

for it’s there I flew 

live in a house though I owe my due 

couldn’t tell you why  

thrown to the wind 

What else could I do 

Kent the garden of England

Not sure that’s true 

at least I’m not an animal

in a Wild West Cotswold Zoo

Injustice

Impervious to the blood stained Nile 

A hypocrite walking a mile 

arriving in his Mercedes’ Benz  

at the end of the race

puffing with egg on his face

Redundancy leaves her without a home 

interest through the roof 

Politicians putting on a brave face 

while rubbing hands together  

saving cash on higher rates 

What a disgrace!  

The old gentleman dies from a weakened immune 

his friends felt he died too soon 

Well no one cares in that place 

Treating the elderly without any grace 

taking all the beds!  

The homelessness are not fed 

Pleased to be sleeping in a tent or a shed 

Still, I’m still okay Jack 

got the sack on my back  

On my own and on the right track  

reaching the tip of a mountain swoon 

Jumping from way up in the sky  

Hoping to fly into the clouds up high 

Not even that, at the end I would  

Know I’m free from this life…if be..I could

A.C. Milan

Go right, drift from the left 

feet crossed, warning from the ref 

flick & turn, move upfield 

One more challenge, his fate is sealed 

slide in measure, ode to pleasure 

towards the corner, offsets the pressure 

goalie dived backward down 

then climbs up with a wayward frown 

upset pride, feeling like a clown 

the losing side are 1-0 down 

production falls, towards the ground

 in this peculiarly sad Italian town

"Saremo una squadra di diavoli. I nostri colori saranno il rosso come il fuoco e il nero come la paura che incuteremo agli avversari."

— 1899, Herbert Kilpin^[17][18]