BECAUSE  I  CANNOT SEE                                                
  LORD WHY THIS ACCURSED LIFE,
    TO LIVE AND DROLL IN STRIFE.
     
    IS IT THE CURSE IF FORMER BIRTH?
    OR IS IT MY FATE'S WRATH?
       
    BEAUTY OF THE WORLD IS DENIED TO ME
    DAY AND NIGHTS ARE SAME TO ME.
   
    UNSEEN MOM'ND PA COME 'ND GO
      SHATTERING THE CLUSTERED WOE.
   
    FIDGETTING THE DAY TO BLUNTER,
    O'R THE RIGHTS OF PLOTTER TO PLUNDER!!
         
                                                                                                             

Poem 2

Daisycutter

While
f
u
m
b
l
i
n
g
Old
Hands caress
Arabian sands
To scoop out
The blood buried
Deep within
Its bitter lands,
Their young errant kin
Sow into their dreams.
Lines of severe hatred
So hard to relieve.
This is not fate,
This is what is happening
NOW. So what
Are you going to
Do about it, eh?
Just sit there
And frown
???

Poem 4

One Nation

Any man born of a woman

Surely dies

One nation under a fraud GOD

A GOD who hides in lies

One nation under Satan

Debating where to attack

Start off in Afghanistan then west to Iraq

I've seen people die for this country

Never have I seen this country die for its people

A people willing to die just to be dubbed equal

We turned our back in Eden

Now this is satan's sequel

Our faith is faded and faint

We manufacture atomic bombs but tell other nations they can't

We spend billions on a war

But won't pass a bill to build the poor

A land full of torment and grief

One nation under a fraud GOD

Who's the real commander and chief

No one is secure in their home

Homeland security

Is a cover-up for political impurity

Every mans on his own

One nation under a fraud GOD

Where satan sits on the throne

Jesus said beware of false gods

And all those who will oppose

We shoot Satan in our veins and tunnels through our nose

He hides at the bottom of beers

Disguised inside our fears

Two headed knifes

In wasted lives

Wake up to see the sun

The straw that broke the camels back

Must have weighted a ton

One nation under a fraud GOD

A GOD who takes form in a gun

Poem 5

Kingdom Comeuppance

Reign, Reign thou fearsome king
Enthroned by what foul fiendish rite
Heavenly mandate was never thine
Enslaving peasants for their lives
Through sycophantic bully-boys
Enriching coffers laden full
Ill gotten gains thy road to hell
Thine heirs corrupted by thy will
To follow suit, to kill, to kill
With honour thrown from castle keep
While shepherds mind thy stolen sheep
What flock of torments be thy due
To lifetime pleasures bid adieu
As well-led rebels storm thy walls
And rampage through thy laden halls
The tyrant toppled from his throne
And Satan comes to claim his own

Poem 6

OUTSIDE

Three into two won't go.
One is always one the outside
Looking in with hope or heartache.

Suddenly that is me.

Poem 7

Memories
 
She looks at the photo on the wall
Remembering and regretting
Her life flashes before her eyes
Sad and depressed is she
To see only what they want her to see
Painful memories
None happy or hopeful
Only that depressing feeling
As she looks back trying to forget
Only to remember
Tears fall down her pale cheeks
Unbidden and unwanted
Pain cascades through her
As anger burst forth
No longer can they hurt her
No longer she has to suffer
No more memories
As the blood runs freely from her wrists
She laughs a chilling laugh
And thinks to herself no more
No more can they hurt me cause now I am
FREE
 

Poem 8

Brother
 
Brother I miss you.
I want to know where you are.
I hope and pray, you are alive.
It must be hard, but you must strive.
 
I don’t understand.
You say that they make you feel normal.
But they’re making you worse.
It’s like you put yourself, under a curse.
 
I don’t know you anymore.
We used to have the same front door.
Now your living on the streets.
Avoiding the coppers on their beat.
 
Why did you give up, on what you had.
Just to waste your life, being bad.
You know I’ll always love you, although your mad.
It makes me sad, to think of you.
Knowing what your up to.
You had your chance to get away.
But you seem to prefer, to stay.
 
You say without it, your head is a mess.
Before you took it, you weren’t the same I guess.
And I’d like to confess that I miss you.
Even though your not the same.
I can still picture your frame.
 
Now you’ve left, to go and play a game.
A game you can’t win, a game full of sin.
 
In the end it will make your life shorter.
So what’s the point  in taking it.
Living for another hit.
‘cause tomorrow, you will wake in shit.
Or next to it.
 

Turtles

Quiet intonation masks
an aura of deceit

before the pleasantries begin
pray do take of your seat.

a mantled brow an air of woe
the light it fades and casts its glow

so no imposture hides from view
and with it notions wither

thickened plot will boil not simmer
first to last do palms perspire

inward contemplation then
of scenes laid out for mice and men

care not or fully grasped for need
oblivious to end of deed

and onward in for such a time
as carrier can self remind

a vessel fill it full with meaning
write of wrong but stand not leaning

herein lies the truth of nothing
mere fragments looking out

end to end and stacked so neat
turtles all the way

Untitled (work in progress inspired by T.S. Eliot)
 
In memory we search for beginnings.
Reaching further back for flashes of fructification.
      Reaching further back
Beyond being frozen to mud flats                                                
      Or bathing in the burning salt of sunlight cold winters.

Attempting to find rapture in the eyes of others
 
      Gently fading down the row
      
      People gesture in adagio
 
Those moments
When the energy of your days seemed hell-less
When the cold was not cold
And the antler sprigs of life
Held heartbeats without asking
Or taking
 
      The farmer’s seeds begin to grow

      Scarecrows flicker as the wind ablows
 
You may remember your emotions,
Both as they were when fresh-raw and
How they were when they’d been exposed
To the world a few times:
Soft hands upon limpets.
Or you may, of course, find nothing
But a sensation.
A picture
A paintbrush
A question
      Will red hands still seek to crush your red heart?
 
      Restless noises rain down on the lane

      The night has found its voice again
 
Any beginning may hold many
Ever decreasing circles of memory,
That merge to sew together the strings of sky trails,
Some part of you still vying to cannibalise
The fruits of your labours
Savouring their perpetual sweetness with pride-love-vigour,
Having forgotten those sacrifices you made
In the first place
To turn a sow’s ear to a silk purse.
L'esperienza di questa vita dolce
(the experience of this sweet life)
In all its many dark diverse angles-
Can sometimes be illuminating
 
      She burns with every step in air

      She calls my name, do I dare, do I dare?
 
I do not know much about beginnings
I know even less about endings
Though I do know the world that they have shown me
I cannot take you there
At least not yet
This is still the time for you
 
      There is still a need for my beaches and seas

      For many adventures, alone, through the trees
 
Contentment reigns the while (as it should).
      It has begun

And (For the while)
We are home….
We are still here.