What’s behind the story
What is the reason for that news
Who gets the benefit, the prize
The envelope with the bread
The law successfully passed
The company tracked greased
Somebody’s life made easier
At the cost of somebody else
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Taking my son to my old school
Following the bus I used to take
Still the same number
Basically the same model
The same smell of classrooms
And I wonder
Is this it?
Are we destined
To repeat lives?
It is not enough
I want more
More for my children
Than was there for me
No fear
More doors
No prejudice
More joy in knowledge
Is that too much to ask?
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Dark gathering cloud
Brooding and beautiful
Waiting for the flash of light
The spark
The piercing blue white crack
And the wind
The raw whipping wind
And the release of rain
and the rainbow
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Very tired and stressed out so today’s is an old one – but one of my favourite old ones.
I am the factory wall, despised and so defaced
Covered with graffiti, defiled and disgraced.
I am the concrete tower that holds up the concrete road
Bleak and faceless white, bearing my toxic load.
I am the bin on the street, bursting full with waste
Where rats and vermin crawl, around me in distaste.
I am the battered traffic cone abandoned in the hedge
A used forgotten prize of lives lived on the edge.
I am the street side gutter where dirty water flows
A place of infestation, where all the darkness goes.
I am the discarded knife with bloodstains on the blade
The close but unseen menace lurking in the shade.
I am the lofty tower spewing clouds into the air
That speed across the oceans, killing without a care.
I am the broken shelf with screws rent from the wall
That supported all the books and caused them all to fall.
I am the sodden cardboard box flapping in the street
Broken, limp, forgotten, always under feet.
Once I was a poet, bright-browed with golden haired
Playing harp and singing, songs into the air.
Once I was a druid learning from the trees
Drawing strength from bark and wisdom from the leaves.
Once I was a warrior with proud and shining sword
Singing with my war band a deep heroic chord.
Once I was a chieftain with princes round my hearth
Against war and cold and famine our mighty hearts did laugh.
Once I was a king whose soul was all the land
Who tended all his people with a strong and generous hand.
But I made other people suffer
Now suffer myself in turn.
But as you wreak your vengeance
What lesson do you learn?
What lessons do you all forget?
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They trickle in
The protesters, the bitter, the dispossessed, the poor
They swirl in slow currents
Exchanging thoughts, views, ideas.
An oasis for the outcasts
The Man sits by the pool
And fishes
Taking what he needs
Watching the rest
The pool holds no threat
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Eleven fifty
Nine and almost out of time
Yet still ploughing on
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Hushed concentration
Then with a sudden surprise
His name is written!
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Pardon me for interrupting
But that was just a step too far
Not really a sporting move
Two years
Two years you have been playing straight
That is to say
Murdering
But with the proper tools
The ones from our markets
Hardware, hard and solid and paid for
That gas – tut tut – just too far
So hand it over
There’s a good chap
And we will let you
Get back to your war
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Clouds piling up dark
Lightning flashing – sky to ground
Rumbling all around
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Wandering the shore
Through new lands everyday
Ancient fishermen
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I am a mirror
Distorted
Even cracked
But a reflection still
I share with you my fear
And passion
My fear is blue
Deep dark blue
All sharp angles
Like shark fins
And knives
Fear that turns me
As white as a clown.
Alas, my fear is my passion
My love
I seek it out
To taste the thrill
Of the fear and the chase
And I share it out
While I play my games
with the orphan
the fear
the dark, dark blue
that bears
the sign of the bat
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Silver twines
intricate wires
thin and delicate
stretching from misty past
to infinite future
Each one a story
a thread of life
Twisting they come together
Winding, entwining
Further down the road
The twines form a rope
Stronger
Older
Wiser
Thicker
Stiffer
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No reality.
That’s what attracts them
No history, no baggage
Only dreams of the night
That’s the attraction of the mistresses,
the hookers and the one night stands.
No reality.
Better to live in real love
Than empty dreams
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The lights on the corners of the boxes of steel
Are giving me a pain in the head
Like the fools who drive slowly in the outside lane
They are driving but their brains are dead
They have a purpose those lights you see
And I expect them to flash
Maybe that is my big mistake
Forgetting people are so rash
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Imagine
Me
I kill without discrimination
for race, for age, for sex or sexuality
I take saints and sinners
I take your loved ones
in return
I deal you pain
without explanation
when asked
the answer is
that you cannot hope to understand me
As a man
you would lock me up
revile me
or label me insane
But I am divine
So that’s OK then
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Yet another wall
How many before we’re home?
Prevaricating
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29,000 over all – but still – progress. Just need a few good reviews
Our voices are simply the shadows
Cast by our dreams and our thought
If the shadows become ineffectual
Then our voices will end up as naught
Yet shadows can give us the outline
Of what is looming above
If we take note of the darkness
We can give those dreams a shove
One thing we must yet remember
To give those shadows a shape
Sunlight is needed behind it
From brightness the dreams will escape.
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Glistening silver
A delicate spider web
Fallen tree around
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Taut relationship
Strained over a bloody mess
Chemical fallout
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Worn out, knackered, done
A brimful of boxy fun
In old Legoland
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Sound, sound, drumbeat hard
Too loud, who cares, light flashing.
Thumping beat, hot air, alcohol haze.
Saturday nights of days gone by
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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?
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Been busy with DIY today and now my back is aching bad. So this is one I prepared previously – but new on here.
Winter’s wind blows fierce
through silk and wood it does pierce
a lonely howling
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Splashing on the beach
Throwing pebbles in the surf
With red sun sinking
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A pain in the back
Plus lack of sleep is the bane
Of relaxation
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Listen to all the anger
Hark at all the fury
Just remember that
You no longer own the jury
Humiliate the whistleblower
Make him out a fool
Wielding propaganda
Like an old blunt tool
Don’t you know we’re cynics now
We can see through all the lies
You will have to do much better
Or suffer the surprise.
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Some big news – for me anyway – I’ll write about it properly later.
So the gate opens
Let’s see where the road will go
As I bare my soul
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Tiredness saps me
Nausea weakens my soul
Hope is a hand up
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Is society
Tension on the webs between
Elites and masses
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As a race
We should step up
To eliminate the gap
Between the haves and the have-nots
Between the singers with their bling and the slaves on the line
Between the bankers with their blank cheques and the children in poverty
For most of history most men women and children
Lived in misery, died hungry.
We are a disgrace
As a race
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Back from the shore
Into my arms.
After an explore
In a world of charms
A world full of wonder
Mystery and fun
Of beaches and crabs
And space to run
Breathing salty air
Hearing laughter ring
Dancing without a care
Of what tomorrow may bring
So dance some more my son
Enjoy the sun and sea
When the day is done
Run back home to me
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The bearer of news is coming
The bearer of mystery
Will the news be good
Or scary
The bearer of news is coming
Anticipation is strong
Slowly our dreams are condensing
So long, so long, so long.
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Sir Richard Francis Burton
For who life was so certain
He was a master of disguise
Caught Mecca by surprise
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Primary colours or simple fruit
Clickety click click and point.
Open the way to a blind deluge
Illuminate the mind
Bright blinding highway – superfast.
On a never-ending roll
Swallow it all until we drown
Where is the straw of truth?
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Turn upon turn upon turn upon turn
Green upon green upon green upon green
Tracks and tracks and shining silver
Decision making machine
Can it take the pressures
Of expectations on board
Will I
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Sad, sad news today – just a short one.
Another one lost
Too short, too precious, and gone
Little heart flown high
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The vessel is cracked
Still holds the sacred blooms
Still revered
Though the blooms are without root
Rootless. Dying.
Still revered.
Water though refreshed,
Still stagnates
Dead blooms replaced
With freshly cut.
Repetition
Builds a patina of respect
Authority
Habit.
The vessel is cracked
Empty of life
Yet forever filled
and revered.
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Stereotypical headlines
Reactions just the same
Ample opportunity
To apportion blame
Night time is for thinking
Sorting truth from lies
But in the sunshine morn
Dreams just fly
So it goes
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Autumn golden brown
covers the hard icy ground
a leafy carpet
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Bird sings by the pool
in the spring in a soft cool breeze
her voice a sweet sound
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Bug me, drug me
You’ll never touch my mind
Not that you want to
Afraid of what you’ll find
Afraid of the secrets
of someone in the know
Afraid of the exposure
of your elaborate show
So go on with your programme
Sticking to the script
Until the day you are aware
You’re playing in a crypt
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Slowly the shadows pass
As memories retreat and fade
Passing beyond the glass
Like springtime budding grass
New joys together are made
Slowly the shadows pass
This pain we will surpass
And sunbeams will cascade
Passing beyond the glass
Though sometimes the shattered glass
Will cut us like a blade
Slowly the shadows pass
New light will surely trespass
On the lawn that we have made
Passing beyond the glass
Those memories we can’t bypass
But their colour has finally greyed
Slowly the shadows pass
Passing beyond the glass
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Time and time again
So it is out with the new
In with the older
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Where the crashing sea
Meets the shifting cracking ice
Hunters hunker down
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More than a year’s passed
Memory is still red raw
Watching blue eyes fade
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Brushed by death today
Twice.
Metal boxes speeding
Too fast, too near me
Driven on by the wrong thoughts
Or expensive wanderings
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Starlight is silent
Waves crash and roar on the shore
Then there is matter
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Sometimes the news leaves you despairing of humanity.
The news chills today
The child killers found guilty
Will justice suffice?
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Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 