December 18, 2013

 

 

The cheaters

The divers

The overpaid skivers,

who bring the game

into disrepute.

 

The complainers

The groin strainers

The pulled muscle feigners,

who fall over their

very own boot.

 

The time wasters

The disgracers

The off-side racers,

who still continue

to shoot.

 

The lazers

The grazers

The failed trail blazers,

who unashamedly

collect the loot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s just a place

where he can be

alone and have

some privacy.

 

It’s just four walls

with his own door,

away from siblings

on the second floor.

 

It’s just his space

where he can aspire,

to be who he wants

in his hearts desire.

 

It’s just a haven

where he hangs free,

away from nagging

and complexity.

 

 

 

 

Festive shadows

of Christmas past,

and romance, never

meant to last.

 

Nights of merriment

and wild high jinx.

Thoughts drifting back

to the party minx.

 

When Bohemian Rhapsody

rang out everywhere,

and the only place,

to be, was there.

 

When fun and laughter

was without restrain,

and never actions,

to defend or explain.

 

Life seemed so happy

and intoxicatingly carefree.

With the new kid in town

on top of the tree.

 

Then at the end of the night,

the tempo slowed for us too,

when Stevie Wonder just called

to say ‘I love you’.

 

 

 

 

Dear temptress of my soul, I cry

as with sorrow, I bade thee goodbye.

You warmed my heart with love so hot.

My inhibitions, I soon forgot.

 

Oh temptress at my bending knee,

no more can I afford your fee.

I cannot see you anymore,

for soon I will have, children four.

 

Forever you will always be,

my calming ride on a tempestuous sea.

And when weary grow my eyes at night,

I will dream of you until morning light.

 

 

 

 

Oh God, what devastation there!

Where once was life, now just despair.

A world within a world all gone,

as sorry eyes in horror look on.

 

No time for grieving, pain so acute,

starving survivors, no choice, but to loot.

Only the world at large, them, now can save,

and limit their heartache, and an early grave.

 

 

 

 

 

He moved into her house,

but never offered the rent word.

He climbed into her bed,

but never professed the love word.

He assumed they would be one,

but never said the ring word.

 

She realised things weren’t right,

but withheld the go word.

She changed the locks in time,

but never mentioned the key word

She woke up all alone, and smiling,

thought of the ‘free’ word.

 

 

 

December 16, 2013

 

 

A friend as old

as time receded.

In the background,

but there when needed.

 

A friend, who knows you

better than you.

A sounding board,

an opposing view.

 

Who leaves you with

an alternative plan,

so delicately put,

as gentle as they can,

 

but smart enough

to sit in your brain,

making sense of that,

which you do complain.

 

A friend to calm

and pacify.

Making less your madness

and justify.

 

A friend brave enough

to say you’re wrong,

after listening to

your tale so long.

 

A friend to back off

when not needed.

To give you space

with new ideas seeded.

 

A friend, a pillar

of your life.

A building block,

in times of strife.

 

A friend, a bloody

nuisance too,

when old stubborn you,

can’t see their point of view.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What untold stories

lay in Chentocks Wood,

where many a maiden

got up to no good.

 

And young boys smoked,

for the very first time –

too old to swing from trees

and get covered in grime.

 

There, flourished nightlife,

where courting was rife.

All car windows steamed up,

road testing, for a wife!

 

Many secrets, worse than these

lay in Chentock’s Wood,

if folklore is to be believed –

but I have no thirst for blood.

 

So, for now I’ll just say this:

‘Follow the thorny thistle Trail,

and turn left at Chentocks Bottom –

but be sure you don’t inhale.

 

And if there is a full moon

on the night you choose to go,

you may not be alone

so keep your headlights low.

 

And one more thing I beg you,

when you finally arrive,

do not outstay your welcome,

or you will be eaten, whole, alive!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So scared was I,

I could not breathe.

I thought my eyes

did me deceive.

 

It hit me like

a thunderbolt.

The realisation

made me jolt.

 

I could not scream.

I was struck dumb.

My hands did shake,

though my fingers numb.

 

I left my body for a time.

Crowds came to ogle,

as though there had

been a crime.

 

It’s human nature,

but I, like them,

could see the blood,

which would not stem.

 

The park swing had hit me

with full pelt,

and around me now

the people knelt.

 

That’s when my soul

returned to me.

My head, it throbbed.

I could not see.

 

Some said ‘she’s dead’.

Some said ‘Not quite’.

‘A faint pulse is there,

she might be alright’.

 

Their voices then,

drifted away.

No further recall

of that day.

 

I awoke in hospital,

my head clean shaven.

The Padre stood there,

saying ‘He’s a brave un’.

 

‘He’ll be up playing

cricket, in a bit’.

My Father weeping,

then had to sit.

 

My Mother, in disgust,

gave the Padre a look from hell.

Saying ‘He, is a she –

can you not damned well tell’?

 

‘He meant well, Dear.’

my pacifying Father said,

with his hands on his head,

and his face now bright red.

 

Even more tension built

when the surgeon appeared,

he saw Mothers face,

and on his back heals reared.

 

Having no alternative,

and feeling trapped.

He said he could operate,

but I might finish up tapped!

 

There was a chance his scalpel

might touch my brain,

and forever in limbo,

I could remain!

 

The operation over,

I was home within a week.

They watched me like a hawk,

in case slurred words, I did speak.

 

The first time we ventured outside,

had Mother out of her wits.

We saw a woman from the next street,

who thought that I had NITS!

 

and suggested to my Mother,

a good lotion at a cheap price,

that was gentle on the scalp,

whilst removing all head lice!

 

My Mother went ballistic,

in her usual protective, volatile way.

I then wore a blue and white footy bob hat,

until my hair grew back one day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 4, 2013

 

 

Looking out I see you,

and view you ten fold.

My optic nerve magnifies

each detail untold.

 

I see fear in your eyes,

you cannot disguise.

You think I might charge you,

and take you by surprise.

 

But I am really very gentle,

and would never harm you,

but do keep your distance,

because the bull, he is due!

 

 

 

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