Light emitting diode, spinning entangled ray, secret of DNA in the nuclear fusion fight, splitting causes division as negative power of force, fading to non existence, a darkened dimming course.
Plasma combination, led rayed sight, encapsulated nuclear heat in shells of micro might, cross hair strands particles of gas, injected as stars in a millimetre mass, the higher revolution twisting, turning high, a volcanic class a million miles high
Despise the shame of it, embarrassment accompanied with narcissism, oh to be fool at the realm, transparency without the remorse, a belligerent PM born with wealth of course, why of course ?
Climb up the hill, deny the chance to fall, work hard wearing your comfortable wool, keep close to the pack, not returneth thee to slack, weigh down the burdened sack, a sad sheep shall lie on its back.
Waking at five in the morning, peaceful tranquility, not a sound to disturb sleeping butterflies, here I am alone, disturbed no compensation for hardly any shutterbies, the trickle of an over zealous pump from my fish, yet still I wish, a desire, only to be cured with a loving kiss.
Six o’clock the birds sing a song of wake, collecting my jacket off the hook, I shake, resembling a man who’s spirit is ready to amalgamate another day with good intentions, still dormant from the hard floor of redemption, still away I go, leaving the quietness of my life.
However strong, the change is too long, my hearts desire is to be at home once again, missing the precious moments that I am within your life, my companion, my love, I dare say, my wife, incorporating the chase, at five.
Too long the song is mellow and sad, aching to dance lively with fun, a little fad, frequently the chance to move near In keeniss, I jerk for a minute to the awkward obscene jingle of the beat, until I collapse in a seat, retiring for the evening.
Weekend walking incorporating all the colours of my desire, deep red sky warns of danger to come, pleasant none the less, a peace unknown for some, while walking through the crested path gravel underfoot, I spoke to the little red breasted Robin, he rested close, baying for my attention or maybe for a pose, I will never know
A perfect line with the edge spread, so typographical the news being said, white paper, black print, headlines such as this must be worth a mint, tragedy strikes all the same, it wasn’t the print, but it was the name, my thought was ‘Someone has gone wrong in the head’ the day that I read “THE KING IS DEAD”
Tainted bite carried in the breeze with chimney smoke, wrapped in garment quilt and fine, sheep shiver woolly less readying for lambing season, the John Deere’s chugging lights shine in the fog, farmers wife cooking delicious pie in her old green Aga with logs.
Annie waits for the lift in her twenty floor block, gone ten minutes since 9 O’clock, shopping bags are heavy, icy cold shrill, up twelve flights with a weight that could kill, seventy two years last Sunday week, husband unwell, he has the inability to tell.
a family of four, man and woman, children two and five, Adam had an accident tragically died, Kate in a wheelchair MS bound, still she can get up and move around, sadly not entitled because of this flaw, although unable to open the kitchen draw.
Oxford to live Oxford to die, a university challenge, a long time to cry, birth into wealth, a history at thirty born into a world where he is ejected and dirty, becomes a politician, climbs to the top, lost touch of humanity, has a fear to ever stop, promising one day to make them all pay, cut all the benefit’s to richen his way,
Be the judge, the go between, smoke is smoke, a proportional screen, money in paper goes unseen, sometimes rich and sometimes poor, decide for yourself what your tax is for, for all to share or the box in your drawer, make your vote count, remember, who for.
Lost in a troubled mind, yet I find the truth is hard to bare, there is not a soul there, no one dare be caught in the fall out of despair to dissipate who knows where, alone, in fear.
in my solitude I am the storm blowing leaves on a dreary day, the noise in my head will not sway, thus leaves venturing near, rise up…..to blow away,
placid Perfunctory , oh my heart despair, an angel in the desert wandering within the proximity of thy soulful care, a sensual clad day invites eve, night falls to take advantage of thy meekness, abuses the persuasion of my weakness, a mirage is at hand, alas once again everything turns to sand.
