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.