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