Lines and words and lines On one screen they mean this Elsewhere something else On paper strangely old Before my eyes Flashing by Doing magic But why For the small ends Of small goals Chipping away at mountains
Is it enough? These words We gather here From across the globe Our thoughts thrumming Over strands of the web They gather and agree Mostly And we know What is wrong with the world What is right How to behave And with well picked word We condemn Or cajole the effective ones.
But is it enough? Just the words.
Yet once upon a time There was a spell A magical combination That set me on this course Of reason and reason-ability
Maybe it is enough If someone somewhere Is moved by our spells To do the right thing.
Swirling, whirling milky clouds of stars Spiralling down to the black hole Supermassive hungry dark Swallowing all it can Axle of the wheel Sparkling star arms Shining cloud Holds our Home
Worn wooden floor Distant, ancient scent Tobacco long gone Beer, deep red in thick glass Salt and vinegar crisps Pickled eggs Pickled patrons Warmth and welcome Long gone like the smoke One missed
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
The new can’t replace the should have been The should have been haunts us forever Though the new will be a healer And receive all our love just the same. It’s pointless being angry at fate But that doesn’t stop the burn The frisson on top of everyday stress For the should have been we always yearn. The new will have its own should have been. So maybe we will understand. And make a happier life will be. At least that is the plan.
Coloured bricks
Red, blue, yellow, white
and many more.
Many shapes
Many sizes
No limits
Many surprises.
Build a fire engine, A house, a school, A lake, a park, a city, a town. A space station and spaceships and an alien host. A castle, a bridge a knight and a ghost!
All this and more build it all And never ever build up your wall.
You people don’t understand.
It’s tradition.
It’s sport.
It’s in our genes.
Blood.
Jobs are created
By the sport we choose.
By the blood we shed.
Surely that’s enough.
Of course
The same can’t be said
For you
And your cock fights.
Shining argent in sunlight or silver sheen in the rain
Letter, rings, lions.
Phoenix or tiny names
Even flying angels and leaping fluid cats.
Bright, alluring but for many
The last thing they will see.
Motes of dust
So we have been described
Floating in the vastness of time and space
Small, inconsequential.
Dust motes made of dust from ancient dead stars.
Yet.
So far.
Amongst all we see,
the starfields of diamond dust,
the ancient piercing light,
the glowing, magical, wispy nebulae,
the rainbow rings of Saturn,
the storms of Jupiter,
the blinding light of supernova,
the singular dark of black hole,
world after world
galaxy after galaxy.
Nowhere have we found
yet
Anything that compares
to the complexity, the wonder, the intricacy,
the magic
of
the thoughts of you and I
The redistribution of wealth from the masses to the very rich minority continues apace. The groundwork has been laid.
First, we were seduced with the idea of quick riches – that we could join that elite. Invest in stock and shares – and be a part of our club they said – while they sold off our services.
Be free of your landlord – they said – own your own home – they say – while they sold off social housing.
Invest in your future – save for a rainy day – build your pension pot they said – while they took that money for their own ends.
With the rise of the subscription services model – we no longer own anything. Gone are record collections and family libraries – to be replaced with an intangible library
And now – the pressures start. Our kids start their adult lives saddled with debt from just educating themselves. We, their parents are so under pressure from austerity that we cannot support them. Remortgage after remortgage – after all nothing is as safe as houses.
But when the time comes and we look for our pensions – they are not there! They have underperformed or have just been stolen – gone into the black hole of bankrupt companies.
And then – surprise, surprise – there are suddenly all these companies that can help – with equity release or webuyanyhouse.com quick sale promises. All that property – that once belonged to us all – that we dreamed of passing down to our children is being hoovered up. They will end up in the hands of a very few large property magnates.
And we will be back in a feudal society once more. When everything is owned by a few – power will be theirs.
Respect is
Expected
Everywhere you go
Respect my rights
My views
My thoughts
We have forgotten
Respect
Should be earned
Not expected
Mutual
And reciprocated