Deserted Street

Men and boys say good bye all know the reason why. Called up to serve in a war they don’t deserve on the front line, not reserves. Whole Streets fighting together as a regiment. Swathes of streets empty of men who will never return. Desolate streets no dads to greet, no sons to hug mums, just dear Johns, to all the friends you meet.

Workers side by side, they all came for the same ride, work as a team one unbreakable seam, and go down with a scream. Waste of men and boys who will never know life, but briefly met strife. No guns fired or fixed Bayonet charge, the enemy is still at large. Longing for home, their bed and clean sheets, seeing their families again and walking down those deserted streets.

In their heads, their family implanted safe return not taken for granted. Over the top their turn to drop, an entire street, downed by men from an unpronounceable town. Leaving heart ache in a deserted English Street. Mothers cry, children wonder why, when the officer drops by house after house on the same Street, tears and sadness at each one they meet, finally leaving the deserted Street.

Magic Weaver

Lost in your shadow, your billowing love, free as a bird, not pure as a dove. Come find me tonight, in the dim candle light, open your mind and dictate my plight. Make me tingle and writhe in pleasure, let me feel your warmth and caress in good measure. Run your fingers through my hair, down my body and anywhere you dare. Let passion flare, you won’t scare.

Tempt me with your fruit, make my passage to it an easy route. Caress my body with your lips, work your magic with your hips, make me scream in your magic dreams. Love me until I am coming apart at the seams, until I can take no more, but pleasure screams. When you think my body has had enough, come find me again a little rough.

Send me to heaven, open the gate, don’t make me anticipate. Lay with me in the afterglow, my body twitching, sending a signal of contentment so you know, you have been responsible for setting me alight and making me feel high as a kite. I want to weave magic with you every night.

 

 

The Corners of my Brain

In the far corners of my mind live thoughts and feelings of many kinds, running around forming rhymes, wanting to be on time. Synapses fire signals around the wire, some inspire and some drop me in the mire, sending signals of desire and that my heart is on fire.

 Free radicals firing around the dusty corners of my mind, trying to find some place to bind and save a memory. Sometimes, there is dark matter and my brain begins to clatter. All the negative clatter, not sure what’s the matter. The dark places in the corner of my brain are where I go when I’m in emotional pain.

 In the corners of my brain is an area full of love, of doves and words that are cozy and kind and gentle. Then there are travelers, that move around and flick thoughts into my head. Sometimes absurd, they hound and pound, as they wiz around transmitting sound and messages from the ground. Yes, in the four corners of my mind there are thoughts of many kinds; long and short; good and bad and some that I ought not to have had.

 

Little Boy Soldier

Little boy soldier what have they told ya? Kalashnikov on your shoulder, ten or eleven not much older. Did they tell you that you might die and stop you from having a cry and did they tell you the truth about why? It won’t hurt you won’t die and if you do you will be a martyr up in the sky, carrying a gun makes you bolder even though you might not get older.

Why must you die living a lie, no chance to give peace a try. No emotion, no regret, just hardened beliefs kept. Little boy soldier, this gun is no toy it will only kill and destroy men or little boys, it doesn’t care which at the flick of a switch. Running with the boys playing big boys games little boy soldiers a country’s shame

Little boy soldier huge weight on your shoulders, does your mum approve, what have they told her? Where will you go when they come for you? Can you kill them before they get you? Little boy soldier lay down your guns until you are older and can take the burden on your shoulders. Go home to mum while she can still hold ya. Tell her you don’t want to be a little boy soldier marching around with a gun on your shoulder. Never again do you want to see men die, without a tear coming to your eye. Little boy soldier please please cry and ask this cruel world why?

 

Underground

Lost in a cave underground, over a hill and under a mound. Darkness is my biggest fear and everything that I can hear. I am unarmed no gun nor spear, just me and the cave and plenty of fear. Dark cloaks me so I cannot see, my lantern is dead it’s just dark and me. Moving forward as fast as I dare, not knowing where, not going back further down there

I crawl along on my hands and knees feeling all the rocks and gullies. One wrong move and I’m over the edge, perched upon a tiny ledge. Water dripping on my head, oh how I want to be in my warm bed. Ice cold rock so slippery and wet, I haven’t gone 10 feet yet.

Spiders webs entwine my face, I wave them away with great haste. Time stands still at this slow pace, dirt and grime all over my face. Then up ahead, did I see light? I rub my eyes to check I am right. My knees are so raw, my hands are so cold, I’ve been here for hours, I hope someone has told.

Echoes and scurrying all around as rats and insects run on the ground. I push on up the ledge, not daring to get to near the edge. The light gets brighter the hole may be big, I cannot scurry as I am too big. I lay on my stomach as the roof closes in, through the letterbox I wriggle in. I can see light ultra-bright streaming in from a height.

I hall myself up with all my mite, heading towards the beam that cuts the night. Lighter and brighter the cave starts to get, I get excited and start to fret, I need to calm down I’m not out yet. The last part of the ledge is full of grime but I can stand up and make better time. I head to the light as fast as I dare, wondering if anyone will be there.

 

Shadow of Doom

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In the dark and desolate land, I felt someone take my hand. I shuddered and my heart quickened as their grip on me thickened. I’m rooted to the spot turning cold from hot. Shadows engulf me, darkening the night, they left me wondering, as I could not fight. Fear was here and I dare not peer at your face, I’m just rooted in this one place.

Pull me forward with a start, beats missing from my heart. Walk me to the valley of death, an ill wind blows like your breath. In the valley of skeletons and skulls the fear and pain will finally annul, vailing me in your cloak, squeezing me tight, while I choke.

The world is black and the end is near, why did you bring me here? no light is present and this is not pleasant, all I can see is the moon’s crescent. Then as the life ebbs out of me, suddenly, you make me see.

For I will return not as an angel but as the devil, ready to devour and to dishevel. This is the end of the angel in me, now I have Satan riding with me, watching death and destruction with glee. The horsemen of the apocalypse and one of them is me.

Riding my mount with great speed, of the earth I must feed. Destroying with waves from the sea, fire and brimstone set light to the trees, death and destruction for all to see what happens when you mess with Satan and me.

Election

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No MPs just candidates peddling their lies and messages of hate, now the election has a date when we all go to rate. Will they buy bombs, or give money to moms? Will they look after the old or just leave them out in the cold.

They all say their words but some are absurd, when they win they pretend we never heard. Promises made and then reneged, social class becomes a farce, when politicians get paid so vast. The gap is massive but we stay passive and let them rule the roost.

War on the world and war on the poor while they keep money sitting off shore. Money is their driving force not people of course, they would sooner you walk than have a car of course.

Low tax and no tax hacks, yet they charge us more to fund their wars. who is paying for this pain? the usual people they are all the same, they want to make you feel ashamed. what about people who moved to Spain, what have they got to gain? will they move home again as their money takes a drain.