Rana Plaza

United Colours or the monsoon, they met death all too soon, over a thousand I hear the score, dare not forget a hundred and thirty four more. Joe Fresh with the Mango, Pri their Mark make enough profit to keep a whale size shark. Quiet though they be free, seven dollars, thirty a worker  is a complete travesty.
The building heard a rumble with weight too much and most of it on top it began to crumble, generators on the highest level, the floors were at a bevel. Workers were panicky and frightened  “go back to work or your pay will be tightened”, threatened with the sack, too scared not to go back, each one walked in too soon, their fate sealed their doom, there was death in every room.
Floor by floor the building collapsed, while others worked hard, for fear not to, go back. Most tried to run, the night met the sun, the devils hand at work once more has gained victory with his plan.
Lessons were learnt that fateful day, a domestic building not to be used that way, fire safety, sprinklers and all, generator on top is a forbidden new rule, workers lines have been set up for most of complaints, the workers are treated better, but not as good as saints, pay has improved a few dollars a week, more work, tighter schedule their owners do seek, exonerated, nor blameworthy their fashionable house , one dollar more cost for the conscientious louse. Crumble the concrete or pay the bill, there’s profit to be made if your prepared to kill.

Out of the darkness

The slippery slope of hell, I could not tell. Gradually slipping down shrouded for my miserable existence, I questioned everything, everything replied with anger, viciousness, gnarled teeth from angry black dogs grabbing at my mind tearing at my sanity until I became withdrawn from all of mankind, hurt by the way they mistreat each other, anything to cause pain in a cowardly malicious way so as to protect themselves from their own stupidity and fiery spitefullness, beckoning to challenge those weaker than themselves for sickening joy.
 I whom continually am surrounded by people, yet alone pondering troublesome thoughts for whatever cause over many years, entering a blacker tunnel as I begin each day, year, realm of sadness, never finding the worthiness of life on this Earth, burdened by more than debt could afford, going on until the end when suicide is the only answer left before me, then you were born from one of the dreadful mistakes I have become. Overwhelmingly mesmerised by your sight, light shone from your eyes, your wonderfulness pulled me from the brink of death and desperation, out of the darkness into the light it was there at that last gasp that I found life and began to live.

The Milestone

A stone marks the location where the highwayman waited, where the fisherman baited, where the lost man found his way from lost and exasperated Grass grew on its quiet country lane, a horse drawing a cart slowly up a hill start, 1 mile from where a lover feels the need to depart, from a beautiful lady that broke his heart A marathon was won, joy on all the people's faces then there were none left for the races, a motorway can be seen in the far off distance, yet it lies there still, quiet at the bottom of that hill, there's Buttercups and daffodils, the spring is here, goodbye at last to winters chill, dust spread far and wide from the old windmill Sat navs and gadgets packed lunches with faggots, 70 miles per hour, bread from the flour, it lies there still and for a thousand years will, a secret to tell forever more keep, tears from my eyes where I once did weep, you passed from us mother, my memories still hold, the wonderful things and the stories you told, a lock of your hair is under the throne of the little white rock called a 'Milestone'

Normal/Insanity

Are we a person who is inward looking out, other people around moving at a pace while we consider it's just another race, perceiving that insane normality could be on the sharp point of a blade, maybe the slanted edged absorbing disciplines to be normal, the other sliding down into the depth of hellfire losing the will to be strong, evidence of any emotional adjustment regressed to a former self of loathing and fragility, anger & paranoia pursues a weakness buried deep within humbling broken spirits, one predicament left to decide, hopefully for not too long is 'which side are we presently on?, are we going to slip to reveal a deep wound for others to pick at opening to a sizeable crater, the poor will of an exposed crumbling nothing for all to see or the strength of an ox with plasticised skin?.

When the darkness fell

The months were warm, the sun shone bright, a picturesque few weeks that were quite serene, the greatest times in life were shortened by that scene, as the dark cloud ascended from who knows where, into a life of confusion wrought with despair, destruction and chaos had found a new friend  that's when i knew, it became the new end.

 Unexpected, imaginary life times of trial for man had become the weakness in himself, that killed with a smile

Limbs torn from flesh, bodies lay still, blood on the kitchen floor, thick and congealed, flies lay the eggs for their own chosen meal, tortured in mass dying and ill, the future of man silent and still.

The corruption of the makers were the only takers, allowing that wretched horror to be brought,the national health weakened by greed, the filthy rich had grown their own seed, poorest of all died long ago, left in the mess they were allowed to sow. Poor health, hunger and disease had killed, all in its path all weakened until still.

The months were warm, sunny and serene when the darkness fell it was quite a scene, the dark cloud grew larger in the sky, no one had time to stop and ask why,

In a moment we were there, then no more, when the darkness fell at our front door....

It fell

It fell a long way into the depth of an upturned spire, a cross of Christ the lord crucified upside on.

Falling and falling, flowing downwards around the shape of barley twist, begging to catch a barb on the way, yet missed. forgotten memories, names long gone even the one with the consideration of a song. The chemicals not working, barbiturates all the same, forgotten the tune, word as a name, tumbling on into darkness lay asleep or dead?, it's all going on inside of the head, only one can tell for the thoughts still trouble, treasured history among the rubble, lights long fading in to dark of night 

love to be saddened the lessened to share

But what's the bother now, not a soul alive cares.

The last time

He recalled a reflection of his own history, it was brief although he had lived more than one life, in his time. He remembered his children, they needed his love so much when they were young, now all grown up living their own lives in the way they wish to live them, they had wonderful children of their own, his grandchildren, his future generation, carving a way forward, more precious to him than they  could feel.

The love of his life is beside him, clenching his hand with her slender pretty fingers, knuckles holding the gold rings stopping them from falling off, she is weeping yet accepting that fate must have its glory, he is so tired now, the pain in him is ill conceived, striking sharply. The nurse speaks quietly to his passion, he cannot hear what is being said however a thin tube is brought over to the bedside and a bag with Clear Liquid inside is placed on a hook, a syringe driver is put into his arm with the tube attached, the liquid flows through the small tube. He cannot concentrate on anything with the dull, yet piercing ache through every part of his being. As his body consumes the liquid, he can feel an immense throbbing pain bound with a paradoxical feeling of no pain at all as if he was not in his own body.

 He takes a look around the room, there are many faces, his Mum, Dad, Children, Grandchildren, Sisters, Brothers, Uncles and aunts and others that he did not recognise, "Oh My, How.....?" then felt as if something or someone stopped him from speaking further, he turned to glance at his love, "you are so beautiful" he told her, he thought that from the first time that he had seen her bright smile across a darkened room although he always pretended that he had not noticed her at all, he reached to touch her short blond hair and wipe away the tear from her soft blue eyes, "it is what it is" he said quietly, "yes" she replied with that same bright but now feint smile that she had shown him many years before, he grasped her hand with as much strength as he could muster then felt no strength at all as his hand slipped away from hers, he had become very weak, with a longing for sleep at the same moment the pain binding his body appeared to lift out of him and dissipate into the light above the bed, leaving him with immense peace, he moved his neck for a glance at her beautiful face then shut his eyes.