Trace

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Water traces curves
Of showered, moist skin, fingers
Follow down to play

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Buff

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Buff is a box
An almost fraternity
They try to squeeze you in
At any cost.

Some of us
Obviously won’t fit
So are discarded
Straight away

We are the ones
To watch
We are the ones
That bring the change

We are the ones
To fear

Photo by Mister Mister on Pexels.com

Trading spaces

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Trading spaces

To be another
Would it bring wisdom
Or confusion
Would it destroy
Our sense of selves
Or broaden it
Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Detonations

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Magical detonations
Stars dying
Dust flying
Seeding us
Not all explosions
Bring death

Photo by Damir Mijailovic on Pexels.com

Tears

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Happy Happy joy joy

Tears of joy 
They warmed my cheeks
When you first smiled at me
My son
These days
Teardrops are frozen 
With a thousand
Fears
Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Judgement Day

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Judgement Day

Perhaps 
Today's leaders
Don't fear Judgement 
They know
There will be 
No one left to judge
Them

Photo by Viridiana Ortiz on Pexels.com

Spiral

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Deja Vu

History repeats
Only more intense
It's not a cycle
It's a spiral
Down to doom
Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

Memories

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Sunlight pleases him
Teases him with memories
Blotting out real life

Photo by Mathias P.R. Reding on Pexels.com

Old

By Scott Bailey © 2017

I am nothing to behold
I am weak and I am old
My mind has given up
My body
Was always a schlup

Now should come the switch
The uplifting twist in the tail
But my mind has given up
And once again I fail

Photo by Craig Dennis on Pexels.com

Let It All Out

By Scott Bailey © 2017

This is is age
Of SHOUT first
Ask questions later
Of passion
Without pause
On consequences
With no apparent cause
Denial
Blame
Anger

Just think

Image from Pixabay

A Dream I have

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Idyllic

A well kept garden
A hidden nook at the edge
By a stream
Overlooking a valley
I sit and write
It is a dream I have
Fishing hut on the River Teviot by Oliver Dixon is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

Bruised

By Scott Bailey © 2013

 

He would never see his son again.

Unless…

Unless he went made it through today. Found the strength from somewhere. Put aside his pain.

The trauma his son had suffered had not been at his hands. Logically there was no responsibility for it on his shoulders.

Logic was a weak fence against raw emotion. Emotion that told him that he had failed as a father, that the protection he was supposed to give had been lacking, just that once.

Nobody agreed with him.

That made no difference.

So, he would not compound failure with failure. This was his last chance. He would take it.

He had tried all other avenues. Therapy, prayer, medication. Nothing worked, Yet what it had done was show him the way. It had made clear the path he needed to tread.

So he took a deep breath and rose from his seat. He nodded to the doctor signalling his readiness. The doctor frowned but kept his piece. He opened the door and let him enter his son’s room.

The room was sparse, clinical. His son lay curled on top of the bedsheets, motionless. Awake but unresponsive. He did not look up or acknowledge his father’s entrance.

There was a small bedside table to the left of the bed on which sat a plastic beaker of water. The bed was positioned by the window. Sunlight tried to make an impression on the coldness of the room but failed. The only other furniture was a white chest of drawers and some empty white bookshelves.

Then there were the books.

The books, many many books, that should have rested on the shelves or strewn on the floor. An impressive collection for one so young.

They hung impossibly in the air.

He sighed. He knew what came next. It had all become familiar to him. This time though he did not avoid it. He did not flinch or try to defend himself. This time he smiled at his son.

The books flew at him. As if thrown by immense strength and anger. The hard spines whacked into his flesh like dull nails. Again and again and again. Raining pain upon his body. The books that hit him fell to the ground limply, twitched like dying flies, then were suddenly whisked up and flung again.

There was no let-up.

He could feel his body being pummelled into a bloody bruised mess. But he took it. Stood calmly, raised his arms towards his son and kept smiling. Gave all he had left to him – gave him his unconditional love. Took the punishment not meant for him.

The books whirled faster as the rage grew. Like a tornado of leather and card, they descended on him, pounded him. The pain passed over what was bearable to no longer being processable – so he no longer felt it. He knew he would not last much longer – if this continued his body would fail him. Darkness crept inwards along the edges of his eyes. He kept smiling, locked his legs and stood, arms out.

The whirl became a darkness that was trying to beat his flesh from his bones. He felt like the bones themselves were splintering beneath.

Then it stopped.

Suddenly all the books fell to the floor. Sunlight sprang into the room as if a lock had burst.

His son looked up and held out his arms for his father.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Competition

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Competition


Stats
And myself
These are my competitors
When did the stats
Creep in?

Catapults and Boiled Sweets

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Catapults and boiled sweets
Sailing boats and jam jars
Watching tadpoles
Playing in the woods
Hunting newts
Swings and roundabouts
Wistful thinking
For the days
That never were

Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

Roots

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Local flavour

Here my roots are deep
I am nourished
I can reach out to the world
I don't need to go there

The Tip of the Flame

Tip of the Flame
Image from Pixabay

By Scott Bailey © 2015

The glint in the dark
From the deep of the cave
The thirst that draws
The primitive out

Out from the dark
Out from the safe
Into the harsh
Changes of life

Leaping from age to age
The fire that burns inside
Connecting us over time
To the fires that have passed

Every ancestor who held it
Was a winner in their life
Success upon success
And you are the tip of that peak

Alone

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Stranded

All alone
Stranger in a strange land
But alive
Next step
Taken in fear?
Or as a chance
To start again
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Holding Hands

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Tiny, warm, fragile
Fingers tightly holding mine
Treasured memories

Image from Pixabay

Swords and Bows and Lore

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Bedtime Stories

Swords and bows
Chivalry and Justice
Robbing to rich
To pay the poor
King’s who were not above the law
And magic
Ancient lore
These were the stories
That filled my head before bed
What happened to those times?
Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

In the night

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, INTJ

I like to walk
Late at night
In peaceful darkness
Treading by starlight
Comforted by silence
Secured by solitude and peace
The parties are overrated
Photo by Josh Hild on Pexels.com

Menagerie

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Menagerie

Life these days
Sometimes it seems
Those who profess
To lead our countries
Are nothing but a menagerie of animals

But animals do not seek war
Or wealth
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Impossible

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Impossible

Life these days
Seems impossible
We have to remember
These obstacles
These weights and walls
Were made by us
We just have to find the strength
To remove them
Photo by Martin Lopez on Pexels.com

Bone of Contention

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Bone of Contention

You fly the yellow and blue flag
You welcome them with open arms
This is all good
It is the least we can do
But you
Left children to drown in terror
Because they did not look like us

Their bones
Will contend you
Photo by Gerhard Lipold on Pexels.com

Show and Tell

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Show and Tell

Leaders
It is time
Words are not the measure 
Of your worth
Show us
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Comfort Zone

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Comfort Zone

Fires rage
But not here
Bombs fall
But not here
People starve
But not here
Only when this comfort zone
Is breached
Will we really act
But our ability to do so
Will be inadeqaute
Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

Adrift

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Adrift
Lost
Floating
Free
No goals
No direction
No chains
Just reflection
Sparkling stars
Burning sun
Gentle waves
Life undone
Free
Floating
Lost
Adrift

Image from Pixabay

Sailing, Unfettered

By Scott Bailey © 2017

I am a ship
Crowded into the harbour wall
Anchored sound
And safe
But I can see the sea
Beyond the gap
Calling
Lulling
The storms come
The harbour shields
But still, I am tossed
And battered by
Uncaring waves
The chain is strained
The anchor holds
For now
So many storms I have seen
How many more
Before the chain breaks
Setting me free
Lost at sea
Sailing unfettered
Unmoored

Photo by Scott Bailey

Always Descending

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Always descending, never ascending.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I can’t get used to this feeling
Moving downwards, moving down.
Is it really like this? What are we doing?
Do we really want this?
Is this the thing to be?
The chains that pull the valves and the levers,
That drive the steam through pipes of dreams.

Dream worlds falling, morning calling,
Pull the chains on, shoulder the yoke.
Down to business. Down to labour.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I don’t like this, what am I doing?
I don’t really want this, what is to be?
Enter the shaft that takes us downwards.
The light is dimming as our dreams descend

Photo by Anjeliica on Pexels.com

Qualm

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Calm your qualms
It’s all change
It’s all good
Still
The trembling
Still

Photo by Gugulethu Ndlalani on Pexels.com

Collaboration

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Collaboration
Is knocked out of us
Systematically
In the school system
Filling us up instead
With competition
And greed
Perfecting us
As the ideal consumers
The perfect wheels in the
Machine
Those who hold the levers
Know
Collaboration
Could bring them down

Photo by Dio Hasbi Saniskoro on Pexels.com

If you liked this poem check out my novel – the theme of this poem is the central theme of the book – see below.

Mankind Limited

Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.

Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.

Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.

On one level this is a story about how different people react to the ever-growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.

At another level, it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.

Read an excerpt here.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

U-Turns

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, 180 Degrees

Politicians
Are vilified
For their U-turns
Personally
I admire those
Who can admit they are wrong
And stay to deal
With the consequences
Photo by Zachary Kyra-Derksen on Unsplash

Karma

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Let not victory
Excite you too much, karma
Has her eye on you

Photo by Eva Elijas on Pexels.com

The Dragon

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Silver screen

Look into the eyes of the dragon and despair.
The beast is released.
They thought it tame
Thought it was a game
Now
It's free
And they will pay the consequences
Of their fear
Image from Pixabay

The quote, the first line of the poem, is from my favourite film, Excalibur by John Boorman, spoken by Merlin.

Nicole Willamson as Merlin

Official Hospitality

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Government Guide to Hospitality
We welcome you with open arms
If you can afford it
If not, go to hell

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Erasure

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Erasure

There are days
We wish to erase
But would we be the same
Without the pain
Without the shame
Still…

Ghostlife

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Ghostwriter

I don't need a ghostwriter
I need a ghostwriter
Ghostparenter
Ghostlover
I need someone
To live my life
While I write

Lab Rats

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Lab rats
In a maze
Looking for
The exit
The Prize
The BIG CHEESE
Suppressing
Suspicion
Sure knowledge
The maze is it
The maze is all

Photo by Tanner Johnson on Pexels.com

Playlist

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Playlist

The story of the impossible
	The impossible climb
Save the last dance for me
	While the world burns around us
I’m a believer
	But I cannot believe what I see
Walk away
	Never really a choice
Nights in white satin
	But no knights to defend
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Ignoring the suggestion again and instead, I am taking the first five random songs from a mix that my music player gave me – which is a mix of my own chosen songs and others it suggests I might like. So the five titles I interspersed with my thoughts.

Pink

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Pink
A delicate shade
Of colour
Hijacked
By toy makers and marketers
To smash young minds
Into shape
And conformity
Give it back
To salmon
And cold autumn evenings
To flushed skin
And lips
And artists
And leather bound books
And bank notes
And fresh ink
Pink

Image from Pixabay

VIP

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, VIP

My wife
My life
My every breath

Together
Forever
Until death

This is the way
We need more today
Love

Fantasy

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Fantasy

Looking after their friends
Interests
It’s what they excel at
Imagining them being able to cope beyond that
Is just fantasy
Welcome to your government

Glory Days

By Scott Bailey © 2013

So the soldier walks alone
beneath the
starry night
He has no aim but distance
from the bloody fight
But the war it still pursues him
snapping at his heels
He slips into the forest deep
beyond those broken hills

O glory days
Those glory days
They’ve shattered
and they fade
They only left a rumour
A shadow
where they laid

So the sword is silenced
with a deep and lasting chill
In his heart, ​the war goes on
the beating never still
Behind the hallowed orders
that laid so many low
Is revealed the empty truth
the sickest, cruellest blow

O glory days
Those glory days
They’re gone
they never were
So the soldier walks away
from guilt
that he defers

Image from Pixabay

Seven Days

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Seven Days

In only seven days
The world was turned upside down
The lovers of peace
Watched it drain away
The shadow looms
The wall is too high
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

The Lonely Tree

By Scott Bailey © 2016

The lonely tree
Stood atop the blasted hill
Stark
Barren branches snatching
Rays from a mist-shrouded sun

Every now and then
Upon an errant breeze
Flits a weary bird
Resting one more time
On its final flight
Then falls

All around the roots
Dead birds and ash
Giving meager succour
To the lonely tree

One day
From that blood-soaked soil
This tree’s seed will rise
Green will conquer grey
Once more

But too late
For this final witness
Of our fall

Lonely Tree

#ClimateStrike

Screaming

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Grown up

In our depths 
There is a repressed scream
Distant
Held back 
Leaking through 
As stress
As inexplicable grief
As depression 
But what that scream really is
Is the child inside
Yearning for escape
Photo by imustbedead on Pexels.com

Sonnet for our Times

By Scott Bailey © 2013

So it seems to me that beyond the news
Beyond the web of the media spin
There are places still where the only views
Are battlegrounds full of unearthly din

I see the most pious places burning
Where the holy words still hold high accord
Where simple souls for peace are still yearning
The peace that those holy words won’t afford

Yet here where reason and science abound
We live comfy lives secure in our ways
No bombs rain down on our manicured ground
There is no revolt, no passion ablaze

There’s something wrong with this picture I see
Is it really this way, can you tell me?

Image from Pixabay

Perspective

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Perspective

Some say they are liberators
Others say they invaders
This conflict dominates the news
But the only view that counts
Is the victims

No o’s

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Twenty Five

The blackbird perches
High in the silver elm tree
The wind tests the trunk
Photo by Jozef Fehu00e9r on Pexels.com

A quick one – a haiku written without the letter o.

Planet of the Savages

In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, No Thanks

Visitors from the stars
Passing by
Would be appalled
And leave well alone
Abandon us 
As the hopeless savages we are
Photo by Somchai Kongkamsri on Pexels.com