They speak of winter as if the world has come to an end,
and so the Tudor houses are bolted up again .
For just as the sunlight dims on tops of hills and mountain streams ,,
on Cold winters and stormy nights .
Where some poor sod is chained to the walls of Bedlam hall ,
and all he sees from dawn to dusk  is darkness
and .
rats that crawl as  vermin ,their new found paradise .
So faint the fair lady’s breast that beats and finds no Nobel knight at all ,
just servitude to some wretched soul who knows no better hense ,
For into this world I was born .
The cruelest winters when rivers froze ,
and stay dogs  dug up just ice and snow ,
and wailed mercyfully into the night .for                  Bbbbbb.            there was no food in the lader ,
no mutten  or bread to eat ,
no work for life was harder than anyone could dare to think or speak .  And so many cruelty of which they did not understand ,
behind the walls of sanity ,
Is lost to every man ,
for silence feeds its  ghosts in years and every way it can .

locked doors and silent walls when love is not a guest .
But we embrace what can’t be known ,
Gods love and joy and peacefulness

As we walked I wondered if this Avenue of trees ,
where birds of paradise were lined in cages hung amgst the leaves ,
as far as the eye could  see .
Is that what you think of me ?
That love we share ,
In birds so rare ? said I
“ My darling don’t arose love “ she said
for these things are for heavenly creatures,
such things are not meant for me
for I am a creature of the dead “
and with that she shrugged her head .
“ But I do love you and that’s with all my heart
and if that were true in what you said .
Then Why does my heart leap like a young buck before a small bud
can reach  the sun ?





That is when the dark heavens awoke,
to thick dark clouds ,
and puffs of smoke ,
Where nothing would ever be the same .
Thou lighting bolts from heaven called out her name.

Lucinda I weep for you “
as  the might oak was split in two ,
It’s bark burns in  front of you Lucinda ..
as Men and women arise from where they slept .
and thunder bolts of dazzling ray ,
With a smell of death from beneath my belly wails ,
as she walked away .

And my walls of stone have been brought down ,
they lay before me on the ground .

And where is the sun ?
the moon and the stars ?
How the loved ones gazed apon.

their dazzling array .
and the sun by day ,
for they have vanished from our sight ,
thou it be the dead of night .

For the corn is wet and no good to eat ,
all ruined in this Bog of peat .

Yet I walk and must never stop ,
bid it not this journey must end .

Make haste that I should find my friend .
Are you there is that you ?
a horse and cart I meet along my way ,
but they are in great haste and don’t delay
The kings post must not be late “


The birds are circling far above ,
a young Buck that once bound and  lept  for love
now lies dead in a field of mud.

And I grew weary when will this end ,
to walk alone without my friend .?

So I looked out into the yonder road
and yet I did not see her ,
not now ,
not then ,
not ever again ?  .

As. the first fruits of spring ,
started to move
into  her womb warm and still ,
a beetle crawls in .  as a
bud sees its dawn
on a cold frosty lawn
And it cry’s.out
for some light ,
but is soon choked
by the chill of the night .






       Ii

But ..Then if we survive
grow strong roots
Until we thrive,
or waver
like tall trees in winter .
That  sway in the wind ,
and are cut down by our sins ,
and surrender all manner of awful things!





Yet some will find love  ,
and pick  it’s fruit from its orchards above
and will ripen and grow ,
in fields without snow
only to pick the fruit from the orchards of a stranger .
when the evening shadows. fall
up to her room they will creep ,
only to darken the rooms of her chamber .

And when winter kicks in she will turn to her honeysuckle sins
With her apples she picked in September.

only to  
break the heart of the one she most loved ,
because she fell for the arms of a stranger .







Yet others will mourn from the day they were born
and sorrow and vice ,
for they will never think twice ,
and so reap the sickle of the ravens daughter .

And then the oaks branches will break
for the cruel winds will take ,
and lighting will bear down ,
with black clouds all around
and  strip from her Maine
And the strong winds will  prevail
and call out aloud ,
“ I will soon have you’re trunk
and your branches .
And if all else fails I shall
call upon the one who Maims
and it will tear down you’re roots from your
Mountains .
And so then toss them
Into the seas .
And so separate the skies from the trees
and shake them by hand .
from the mountains.






But the strong winds soon left ,
for they thought it best ,
as a suckled the breast of her daughter.
and the birds were so blessed
as the trees shoots were covered by the leaves of the old oak tree
as a mother sang her sweet lullaby’s to her daughter.

And then Autumn came
as acorns started to fall from her branches .
again .

My Father was a gentleman ,
he loved to do what was right.
but above all a loving Father
in everything he did ,
beit playing catch with a rugby ball on Sunday afternoons.
Or digging the garden always with a pipe in hand .


Tall dark and handsome ,
was my Dad in so many ways .

So tall my gran never lost him in a crowd
or so she used to say ,
you could see him a mile off for he had fair Curley hair ,
when all the other girls could only stand and stare ,
my mother asked him for a dance as love bloomed in the air .


But it was my sister Father took too the dance floor ,
as she learnt to waltz across the Room ,
to the tunes  of Bacharach and Rich ,
on some smoke filled  afternoon .
But when the lights were dimmed ,
and moon set far above the stars ,
which somehow looked down on them ,
from other far out galaxies  hidden from afar .
the waves washed up against the shore ,
with moonlight and roses beaming in their eyes ,
‘‘Twas their nights of paradise that encapsulated the room ,
every single night .


Yet when the mornings rays sent to lighten up the room ,
with sparrows and blackbirds chirping their O so happy tunes ,
Memories of childhood stars ,
bring memories of love .
Sitting in my bedroom even to this day ,
those memories stay with me ,
and last throughout my day

Today has gone ,
we lived it well ,
with all its sorrows ,
we can live to amend .

And so a poem lead to one two and three .
and I said hello .
For now today is over ,
and we must all learn to write again .

And so it’s been four years since I said hello ,
and my poems I write you love to follow me there .

A fallen rose without a name ,
will the world ever be the same ?

A falling tear that falls from you’re face ,
just before you’re warm embrace ..

Both of these things I will do ,
all in memory of you .

For i will  hold in my hands the Autumble showers God has planned ,  and when rain clouds appear  from afar ,
I shall awaken the morning star .
With such beauty such as this  ,
from which I was blinded from such a kiss .

Which is why I never saw you’re rose of nameless  grace ,
fall in silence before my face .

And I never saw you’re tear ,
thou I was forever   near .

But I will still hold rain clouds up in my hands ,
for that is what God has planned ,
for I felt you’re hug when you were near ,
and for that I will hold up
the world ,
my dear .

If love has never ending dreams ,
If some should die ,
and some should live .
If Earth and Sky should be as one ,
then melt into the setting sun .
If ghostly shadows of our past,
should reclaim our souls at last .
And hopeless dreams could one day become .
like earth and sky ,
Moon and sun .
And as we walk ,
by our selves or with a friend ,
and the world looks like it’s about to end .
A baby cries ,
not one but two ,
a girdling and spluttering now splits
the earth in two .
And  enters  in
a new born babies cries
New life for that. Poor  mothers crying eyes ,
once red with pain ,
now in her eyes hide a softer blue ,
now as deep
as only her babies new .

I found myself once of desolate shores where the cliffs and rocks ,
found high  in their mountainous peaks ,
that once battered against the shore.,
thousands of years before ,
eroded against where the seagulls nest .
Far away from where ainchent city’s once fought,
but now found rest .

All of what’s left of them are statues of marble eroded by the sea .
once decorated in beautiful ornate colours grinded out of stone .
now left abandoned ,
alone .

And as I walked I came across a cliff ,
where seagulls flew far away from this land ,
to distant shores they took hold of the winds ,
and so I thought what a marvellous thing .
If I could fly just like them ,
Sumon up the power of gods not men ?

But as  I spread my wings ,
and I did not fly ,
instead my wings
Plummeted down from the skies ,
to die .

Where ainchent worlds once had lived
we’re now lost in sandstone marbel and grit .
And I saw various colours of small fish as I fell ,
deep down below where the waters swell .

And so I began to wish that I was up there ,
In the clean blue heavenly clouds  ,
somewhere where heavenly voices can be found .

But alas my wings now we’re to fail ,
for not even Zeus with all his power could ,
Make my wings go any higher .
and I forgot how to swim like a fish in the sky ,
or even down below .
How foolish to think that I  in such a brief time ,
I could lose my life ,
In a blink of an eye.
A
And so I lost my will to live ,
and death took hold of me with its icey grip ,
so I drifted as if for days ,
deep into my yonder grave.
Far away from the fish I had seen ,
or sunken vessels that were once king of the seas .
Somewhere I didn’t want to be .
Yet in the vastness of the seas above ,
I found nothing here ,
not even love .

They came in their droves to remember their  dead ,
the fallen ,
the lives they had lead .
Taken away by a shell to what the cost ?
Innocent lives on their way to hell !

The battle field ,

the mortal dead ,
to live forever in our heads .

To what the cost where freedom lives ,
Our right to walk when we dared not live !

Bereft our watch at the garden gate ,
Daddy’s only running late ,
he’s gone to war ,
be back for tea ,
Bereft the watch that dos’nt bother me !

So the skies darkened clouds stayed away today ,
as if to salute those that had fallen some sunny day ,
where poppies lay ,
In green fields far away .
Those who limbs were blown to kingdom come ,
for the children they will never see ,
before them lies immortality .

For those who did not make it back ,
Who won’t stand in terraces to chear their team ,
to roll cigarette papers and tell their ***** jokes ,
for them the mortal screams .

And now her letters lie forgotten not read ,
forever in a draw underneath her bed .

But Daddy will be home soon she still says to her kids ,
he’s gone to war ,
he will be back for tea ,
You just wait and see .

Ashford s crowds who had gathered to wait two minutes to remember the brave ,
walked their dogs ,
drank plenty of tea ,
and paused their busy lives to Remember thee .
Returned home ,
Shut the gate ,
to remember Joe who just ,
came home late .

Walking home late this afternoon ,
past O familiar streets and shops ,
past all too familiar faces ,
their completions tired and worn,
but they wore masks with smiling faces ,
as they all dragged behind their backs their  heavy loads
Their  coats and dressed torn ,
and they kept looking to the skies ,
as if for a sign which never came ,
to lighten their brand new morn .

It wasn’t dark yet ,
yet enough light not for me to fumble for a match to light my  candle ,
so to mark the way before my eyes .

But at this unGodly hour how life could suddenly change .?
For no man or child or lady would ever now be the same .

For a sneering darkness now covered this land ,
it’s clouds now formed likened to a doll like features ,
of staring eyes and porcline face .
It winked ,
then smiled ,
it’s deadly grin .
So  when they pulled their loads ,
they never gave in .






In labotories ,
in Petri dishes ,
under microscopic lens ,
It took to flight
and called them it’s friend .

But as ***** stalk their prey
Untill it’s nothing but skin and bone ,
this life form filled-the.  skies ,
as we mask our lives from its breath ,
we call death ,
Is hid before their eyes .

But only when the day gives up its fight ,
and men hold up lanterns ,
Which shed no light ,
and.  they return screaming back to their homes ,
only to wait for morning to lighten their loads .

And so in a land far away a little girl came in to play ,
she picked her doll up from the floor ,
then placed it in its doll house as it was before .
Just at that moment the sun came out ,
birds sang ,
as the crocus bloomed ,
In all its many colours .


And then I heard the first lark of spring ,
O what a pritty little thing
O what joys it brings,
as man gave up the loads he bore .,
and so they danced untill their feet were sore .

For there canst finds me no sweeter thing ,
than this little birds reward of spring .

O darkest night
that spake not in loves fairest white flowers descend
that fall  in fragile pieces ,
perfumes that ignite   into. loves never ending   flame .
But is so then dashed upon life’s cruelest shores ,
where seagulls who’s heads were smashed against the rocks
died in agony once more .
once again to be denied life’s sweetest joys ,
against that now blood red shore .
And loneliness is but like a feast to every pedetory bird ,
and beast ,
that swoops
scavages
lurks and
feasts ,
Upon every lonely  soul
Who walks this earth
Who’s ghostly apparitions dine alone ,
as a Spector is at a  feast
where lovers  gorge on wine and beef .

O darkest night without a friend
Where lovers walk
May shadows end ,
So I alone might be so near
so as to hear every lovers heart felt chear

even so ,
they can never be
ever so belong to me .

of Thine ,
which are
Pruned back from
thy blessed vine ,
can never be forever mine .

Cora you’re beauty is like,
the humming bird when  suckling her young ,
she feeds feeds on nectar under the hot rays of the sun.
In their nests of their branches above where you sleep .
It is where the
flamingos fly and rest their wings under a blood red sky .

And when I listen to the streams that ripple in your heart ,
let me not be the one that tears it apart .

O  let me then plant curry plants at your door ,
so when you awake you might smell their sweet fragrant  flower once more.

For. When  the moon will rise its orbit will set in your gaze ,
and we shall let it wonder around all our days .

And i shall tell of the milk maiden O when her work is done.,
to bring milk to you every day so you can separate your curds and whey .,
under the gaze of the midday sun .


Yet when you wipe the sweat from under your brow
it brings only the smell of lavender some how ?
beit you graze a finger ,
or splinter your thumb.

And when the ravens call ,
as they do every day when the night time falls
cover your eyes and ears
for you must not tell of
what they have seen ,
and what they have heard .

And as for the scoundrel who forever knocks at your door
who always demands more more more .

More for his master ,
more money than bread,
that was meant ,
to feed your poor children ,
and keep a roof above their head .


For if I ever see him again ,
no good will become ,
should I not want to smite his breath from under my brow,
and leave him dying
In the heat of the sun ,
Untill deaths dark angel shall spread her wings all around ,
and commit his bones unto the ground .


It’s where th£ ravens rest in hollow trees ,
and love is brought gently to her knees .
And death is but a hollow crown ,
It’s where maggots and flies shall gather,
all around .

I looked on from where we stood ,
beyond the cross and our sense of brother hood .
Beyond the suns rays  that shone on down ,
past mans diety it’s earthly crown .

On to fields so far away ,
where poppies lie still today .
Where brave men fell unto their knees ,
no pomp there is at this dark hour ,
alone our thoughts should mortal dwell .?

Or of Christ Jesus death upon a cross ,
for never was there such a greater loss ,
the sacrifice he gave so man might live beyond our days .

So as the green grass turned to black ,
then red ,
the suns bright glow left a golden bed ,
and a golden stairs on which to climb ,
Up the stairs for the final time .
Close the gate tight shut ,
for Daddy’s come home for lunch .

Mr George once lived in a large Georgian house ,
before the factory’s were built In this Surbiton town .
Back for tea at seven every night ,
after discussins   with the wise the bad and the good .


But for Mr George and his beautiful wife ,
and his clockwork life ,
in his well to do manor soon packed their bags ,
to leave their new home
With all their clocks on carts they all  moved away ,
With a clipperty clop and a bag of hay ,
goodbye to Georgian Town as  they moved
far far away .

Soon the houses came and the factories and railways too  
so the little house saw ,
Instead of green trees all around ,
coal and industry were  its only sound .
Gone were the cows and fields of green ,
now new houses were built ,
out of his window now were seen .
For a King had died and time moved  on .

And so the landowner subletted the little house ,
to many families when the foremen moved out .

And more and more what ever the cost ,
and so our little house was feeling quite lost .

The noise of the factory smelt iron and Cole ,
the thick black smoke.
The many people who came and went ,
and no one cared for the stench and the mud ,
that was left .

One privy  now for twenty or more ,
all crying and screaming on his now filthy floor .

So the rats and vermin moved in as well ,
and how he remembed his happy home ,
of mr George a family man with his clocks and wife ,
and his o so happy life .

Serth the red skies they give not a stick or a stone ,
that loves great harbour should build us a home .

Where magpies mock and steal ,
a ring through my window went ,
on the beek of a bird ,
all black and white ,
without lament .

That ring that I had on.my dresser would ,
Stick us together like concrete and glue.

It was a ring that without words that read ,
with all my heart I will worship you .
But  now the bird has stolen it instead .

So will the skies O blessed thing ,
before I die ever return my ring ?

It gavest us pleasures like ,
walking together in the rain ,
but as red skies are above ,
and silver lightning strikes ,
tis my shutters I close to hide me away at night .

And if that magpie should ever return , to bar and bolt ,
It shall not take ,
the love in my heart ,
for it is with that that I wed ,
not symbols of gold or cotton or thread !
But with ever lasting sweetness and joy ,
the bird can’t take ,
or mend or do ,
or sow together me and you .
that which is in my heart I employ ,
to do such a task to stitch us together ,
untill  our  words do not rhyme.

O  for silver  then shall I wait untill dawn ?
For what did I see on my newly mowed lawn ?
A heart made of silver a locket with a picture of you ,
with a red sky sunrise ,
that’s forever thinking of you .

This afternoon in the coffee shop ,
after church  ,
a black coffee sprinkle with cinnamon,
drank with ease ,
the Sunday paper on my knee .
I looked up to look around the room ,
a daughter holding her mother’s hand in the corner of the room .
Two lovers looked into each other’s eyes away from their lap tops .
Others just sat there in silence ,
keeping their thoughts to their own .
A cup of coffee milk or black ,sugar or sweetness for their tears .

In a field of pure delight I watched the leaves ,
lifted by the wind ,
dance !
Like girls with daisies in their hair ,
held hands without due care ,
run around their play ground ,
laughing and shouting.
Faster they run ,
round and around ,
untill like leaves they fell to the ground .
As the wind died ,
then picked up again ,
the leaves took to flight and the girls danced again .
Untill scattered to all corners of a field ,
whistling,
howling
chased by boys ,
who stole their dolls away ,
like dogs in a field let off their leash ,
in the middle of the day .
Then  just like leaves ,
to the tolling of a bell ,
were swept inside ,
never ,
to be seen again .

Lost my poem oh what a shame ,
and now it’s time to start again ?
For if you find it sing it a song ,
for what I’m doing won’t take long

Her eyes were sunken into the night ,
how once they lit up so bright ,
like the light of a thousand candles,
lifted high on a chandelier.

Once she glowed with an   inner light ,
of innocence cast into the night
a love that shone like a burning hue ,

and lived without a care .
She dressed in what her mother gave her ,
her ever loving mother though could not save her ,
for her mother left ,
when she fell for a sailor .
so then she dressed for whoever she liked
and so she came to answer to what ever name he gave her . fr.    Touted from dawn till  twilight ,
her eyes grew dim and their  lights burnt out .
Then one day she gave birth to her son ,
killed by her own hands ,
for it had to be done .
Cast aside ,
with not even a welfare state to provide,
Into a paupers  grave .
Her mother now all skin and bone
for morning afternoon breakfast  lunch ,
and a sip of gin ,
for every grin .

So she tied a ribbon to her hair ,
Which once was neat now ***** and black ,
But at least she looked pritty ,
for when the men came back .

So they dressed her in her favourite gown ,
with a daisy and a ribbon around her waste and hair ,
a nameless grave an empty mouth ,
but at last a. beautiful saviour ,
to meet her there .

I walked in the shadows of my grief,
alone ,
for no gravestone could speak of what we had known .
For you who had hung so radiantly amugst the stars for a while , now ,
crash landed through space and time .
No rescue boat could keep us afloat ,
I saw it as you’re stars went dim .
so I could be by your side .
Is there nothing in this life that’s mine ?
for it all reminds me of you.


So here I stand to what an end ,
for my best friend has gone ,
and even death dare not claim me still ,

defeated by Christ ,it dare not draw me in.
And sleep my only refuge ,
to which I must awake .
Oh for pity’s sake .
You walked away many moons ago ,
please come back or tell me which way to go .

Her eyes were dull that killed the day ,
Monolithic colours of stone and clay
but when she met him ,
with his heart full of gold ,
with his bunch of red roses ,
true and bold ,
her shining knight her cavalier were words only for someone else’s ear .


A thousand colours he had to hold ,
with a heart set to conquer what he could not hold
Yet a graveyard that hid his heart,
somewhere to bury it when times got  tough .
on a windy days that shall come a time
for all of us .
when her flowers have all decayed ,
and she looks in silence at the one , for the choice she has made.

But if truth be told at what a price ,
for a price of daffodils,
if love should bloom ,
and melt her heart of ice.

amgst all the difficult things in life they bore ,
That either should say “ I don’t love you anymore .”

But to exhume their hearts with shovels and picks ,
In windy grave yards where no one sleeps .
For in separate beds where they now sleep ,
with wet damp pillows of tears do they weep .

A shivering sun arose ,
It’s embers we’re cold ,
when you said we were finished you powdered you’re nose .
Now here I stand broken and all alone ,
In a space we once called,
“ Our lovely new home “

With unknown guests ,
that peer and stare ,
and fix their eyes on me  as if I’m not there .

But I have seen them moving about ,
In chambers and sculleries when the light has gone out .
Suddenly I can feel your breath on my skin ,
musty and rank ,
as the  fleeting winds ,
that blow a chill upon my spine ,
and take my breath away in the darkness of time .

My time has gone ,
and so have you ,
and the mornings suns rays bring  a damp to th3 dew .
as the branches thicken behind the trees that bring a reddening glow ,
where the sweet Alyssum forever blooms .
As the  ravens  flap their wings I feel. my heart pumping tight to my skin ,

lost in this dark forest where  I thought I knew what was best ?
Then death brought its pungent memories of spring                       of  you and i and a tatty old photograph ,
in a book on a shelf with its pages torn out .






So I light a fire to warm my feet and toes ,,
and a flask of black coffee to face my  foes .

But now they have gone and I’m all alone ,
for the ones that once looked just peered and glowed .
Just the warmth of your touch O heaven knows ,
how long I have been awaiting all on my own.
I hear A knock on the door ,
and your cheary smile ?
Now The fires are stoked I guess your not there ,
an open door brings a chill to the air ,
but I can here voices ,
They pull up a chair,
and we spend the night talking just as if you were there .

I shall wait beside you’re coffin my love ,
ready for you to rise above ,
ready for you to spread you’re wings ,
above the dust and all mortal things .

For you were taken from me my dear ,
for if only sickness could have waited another year ?

Now daisies   ripe upon  the earth arise above and all around .
The bell above you’re head I left for you to ring ,
makes but not a sound !

For the foxes howl yet eary scream above you’re grave ,
is most sereal .

And the rodents that  sharpen their tiny teeth on you’re slab
are drawn by the smell of you’re rotting flesh ,
and  feverishly naw at thy  stone instead  .

Now the rain drops a patter ,
for now it won’t matter ,
one drop after another ,
upon you’re grave .
Can you hear them falling ,?
It can wait until morning,
for  the dust clouds are forming ,
calling for my Daisy above her pritty head .


For if the body snatchers come ,
I shall shoot them down one by one .

And if some fine gentleman should share you’re grave ,
I shall make sure he has washed and shaved .

And if you’re ghost should ever flee ,
hail me down a carriage so I might follow thee .
And if that bell should ever ring ,
let it be not the winds that blow it still ,
upon thy beating breast .

She perched on a tree for a little while ,
her feathers as colourful and bright of all Gods creation ,
when she began to sing.
Her  plumage sang as if to worship God ,
I had never ever seen such a beautiful thing .
Her beak was of a golden colour ,
far brighter than the stars ,
her breast was of a morning sparrows first call to brighten up the day .
Then all was as it was meant to be ,
Gods peace ,
Joy and love and harmony.

Then the crows like vultures gathered as she sweetly sung ,
and they descended on the most beautiful bird as Gods creation sung .They pecked at its bright colours ,
untill not red breast but blood did I see ,
and they stole her radiant plumage
to give to the devil to see what he might think ?

Of falling stars and heavy rain clouds ,
her feathers turned to black ,
and her song was full of sorrow ,
a requiem of man .
How I longed to see the colours so brightly she had pruned ,
but now a distant memory ,
for her home was Gods own garden ,
and it’s fruits of juicy ripe ,
and black is now her garments ,
when once everything was bright
there was no turning back,
for it was the crows who stole her colours
and her  golden beak .


Thankfully this bird wasn’t finished ,
It had one more song to sing ,
the sweetest songs of heaven ,
i heard as she flapped her magnificent wings .

It’s feathers once more became dazzling  ,
far brighter than before,
for  in its beak lay love ,
and I would see that bird no more.

There is a black heart in a tower full of hurtful harmful things ,
and the rains pored down for hours
And there are flowers and black orchids.                                                yet none of them are ripe
And so the seed that I once planted Have all  been  trampled in the night .
by the jailers who now guard me,
with prongs and knifes and hooks .

But you once said you love me,
but that was two thousand years ago .

But There is a black heart in a tower ,
guarded by a thief upon a cross ,
he sat me down ,we talked for hours ,
about  love and what I had lost .
But there is a black heart in a tower ,
and it’s calling out my name
like the rains which are now incessant they are  driving me insaine .

But you once told me that you loved me ,
Oh won’t you say it again ,
this time not with hearts and flowers ,
but by calling out my name,
Play a love song to my heart ,
sing the songs of the lyre
Oh won’t you set this heart on fire ?

I want to feel those nails inside me ,
to take this heart and turn it to white ,
to feel that love forever ,
in this God forsaken night .

(/Woman )”:;O charm me sir so that I might never sleep ,
with you’re words so beautiful and sweet .
bewitch me with you’re poetic words
However daft or obserd.
And love me thou my pale is dry,
that you might fill it Untill I over flow with joy .
That i if I were to awaken you’re love ,
In the pure essence of a flying dove .



Then spindle or twine
Let Love then.  Spin the final twine.

And upon that Twine a needle be thread ,
stitched in red into  the garments of my bed .”

Man ) “But alas I cannot spin or thread or weave ,
for all. You’re practices are to deceive .
And to capture thine ,
for that Would be a waste of time .”

Woman);”Then read me that book you were writing just now
In soft white sheets I will listen some how ,
whilst the candel still burns bright .
For I will weave a spell that will fill you with
all the desires of hell .”

Man )“ But that will cause my words to arouse ,
and the wind and rain will begin  to howl .”

Woman )”Then let hell awake for I shall lie on this bed
Untill you’re softly spoken words have been said “

Man ) “Then be gone with you
my candel blows
and when the wick is out ,
Then Satan himself will be cast out .”

Won’t you sit with me for a while ,
and read the words written long ago ,
In books of profetic words of love .
that shine down from a world above ,
to every child that walks in love .
To every soul that is in distress ,
let it be their  s o s .
So when the world looks black and grey ,
a light shines in hope for another day ,
To every child who wants to grow ,
a smile will greet them this I know .

Test

The winds that once beat against  my door ,
which never give me rest .


For in the darkest hours thou watches over me
as wicker shapes that bends the bark ,
with which no  winds so foul should bear ,

and though this  roof. may   have holes. to mend ,
as he bangs and saws and threads ,
so that I am tempted not ,
Tis with these cloven hooves I tred
to mountainous pastures far away ,
to where no green grass is fed .

For he doth careth for
the blind ,
the sick ,
and the lame ,
those who do  not envy strife ,
yet brings not home it’s shame.

But in quiet pastures gently lays
he puts an end to war .
When  fierce wolves and dogs ,
take the shepherd from the door .

As darkness feasts upon the lamb ,
on hill tops far away ,
for danger is forever near ,
on cliffs tops ,
Left to die ?
No not I,
for it is in truth the good shepherd spake .
For all is said and done ,
and evening prayers are said ,
which quell the widows troubled brow ,
and holds fast the rebel tongue .
So as candel  light adorns the window frame ,
and waits for loved ones to appear ,
they know not how or when ,
When the day is done ,
and nightly clouds ,
draw ever near .
loved ones from out of the shadows shall appear                              from every field and farrow ,
the blind ,
the frail ,
and the lame .
O good shepherd won’t you guide me
home this very hour ,
to seek thy face again .

How blessed the night ,
that’s just before dawn ,

That draws out the light ,
Out of the vastness of space .

Which joys are brought forth by the pitter patter of the rains .



The unseen man who walks by day
Who is broken inside .                                                                ­                For his lady has left in a terrible rage
For
Now  he drinks whisky all day and all night ,
and keeps a bottle of pills and a gun in a draw by his side .
                    
Blessed be the child who kneels at his bed
his candel burns brighter than the rest it is said .


Yet The candel that still flickers at night ,
when the widow
has no food to eat ,
and her children are out begging in the street .

The desperate child ,
Who has nowhere to hide

Blessed be the mountains so vast and wide
the unknown universe that has yet to be seen .
That we might one day figure out the wonders of God ,
In th£ termites and butterflies,
One the harvester of tears ,
the other ,who gives wonderment to the child ,
who chases butterflies in a field .

Blessed be the harvester the sower  of seeds ,
who gives hope to the lost ,
for he is the giver of dreams .

Please don’t go ,
for were once friends a long time ago ,
Spoke everyday with laughter and a joke ,
don’t you know .

Oh there you are you still have that smile ,
it’s just a picture on my wats app all the while .
That face book picture hasn’t changed ,
and the like you gave me ,
just wasn’t the same .

Now we don’t talk like others do we just wats app  say ,
how do you do ?
And so I have turned into a bitter old shrew ,
who dos’nt have any friends the way I knew you .
Yore a tale of two old friends ,
who now don’t talk ,
just like and make amends .

And so they queued before the supermarkets opened ,
desperate for toilet roll,
and soon the shelves were stripped ,
of meats and fish ,
and the old bog roll .

And the queues were long and desperate ,
despite the biting cold ,
and no one came to see the jester and the joker ,
the playwrite  the poet ,
of Old .

For once they came in the hundreds ,
to pay homage to their gods on stage
of grass or board or water

From miles like flies to stadiums built for their gods and Kings .

And so their lights went dim ,
and then went out ,
and the grass then grew like **** .
and they forgot about their gods of athleticism and speed .

They lounged about and eat starchy fats with ready meals ,
and watched tv .
And so even the Churches lay empty ,
but the Christians never slept ,
they never eat cakes and biscuits and left them on the shelf.
And so they got together ,
and so the  virtual church was born ,
with online services ,
they herolded a brand new morn .

The people gathered all around ,
to see the Spector that had fled,
when the sun went down .
With forks and anything else they could find ,
so to save the sick ,
the lame ,
and the blind .

Far in the distance the red sky a blaze ,
set alight by the suns burning rays .

For every night just before sundown ,
Ghostly apparitions were seen in the town .

They came to gawp ,
they came to stare ,
so poets could dream ,
and write without care .

And so the red wing which looked for bugs on the ground
soon spread its wings
amugst the wind and the snow, and the foul ,
and when it left it could not be found ..

And so darkness fell on this land from dawn to night when the
Sun went. down ,
and spread from afar ,
Untill the morning light .
they just wore masks to dig a hole for their dead ,
into a pit their bodies layed .

And so the ghosts with their gawps and stares ,
we’re only there to help the folk in their prayers .
And when they had left the boils and the **** ,
that clung to their throats ,
and ****** all their blood ,
left without warning as the red wing sang .

So the child who had the fever and the sores ,

could live and breath and shout and scream
and dance for the joy of the Lord .

Jack Rann was a simple man ,
as the rich got richer he found a simple plan .
To bleed money from the rich the best he could

In the market place a pick pocket be ,
but even that wasn’t enough for he.
For the wealthy walked by with their heads in the air ,
they didn’t look down ,
and never saw him there .

So to the stage coach he rode both  day and night ,
with hardly a wink he rode through the night ,
on hay did he lay with his steed at his side .

All the money his clients spent on good food every night ,
and where did he lay his head ?
by his horse by his bed .

Each night he heard them in laughter and joke ,
drinking and singing telling a ***** joke !

All that money did he watch going from hand to fist ,
and he had it not ,
not a dime not a stitch .

So to his faithful horse he took ,
Jack the nine tails around his silk breeches .

rode this land with a grin and a smile ,
a pistol and a cunning plan to charm the ladies and gentleman of
their wealth as they passed by ,
was Jack the nine tales scoundrel .


Then one day to such bad luck ,
the Duke was like a sitting duck .

In chains he faced the gallows there ,
the flowers he wore  when he was there ,
around his silk breeches .
Jiggled a jig as the noose pulled tight ,
at tyburn the gin ran over that night .

But who could forget this lad with a wink ,
who hung by a noose by the dance of a jig ?
hung at Tyborn tree .

my words are lost .
they cant be found ,
lost ambiguas to the ground .
In silent thoughts some profound ,
my words drift far away ,
never to be found .

For in merrinent they dance above my head in letters and pros that are left
unread .
So please write down in pen and ink
those thoughts in the night that cannot
speak,
that drift away as  if you dream ,
in multicoloured stars unseen .

And when you wake at  three a m
to silent thoughts begin again  ,
the words you lost that you  will never
find ,
lost forever in your mind

This night we salute the night soil man ,
for when you are safely sleeping in your bed,
where cesspools lie ,
where rats and mice are fed ,
In the secret corners down below,
is somewhere you don’t want to go .

It’s where ladies with their hankies frown ,
would rather think not of what goes down ,
but indeed would spray sweet perfume ,
so not not to gather
the gasses they might leave in the room .

So the next time you go to the loo ,
have a thought for what the night soil man can do for you ,
who Catches a thief upon your door ,
so when the mornings clouds break ,
once more ,
and the suns rays with bleary eyes you rub to awaken your tired eyes ,
You open up your WC,
and you never wonder what lies beneath ,
those which mother tells you “ good boys and girls don’t ask “
their secrets keep ,
and must speak of no more .

The birds are approaching in their thousands appear ,
now sit down here and let me lend me you’re ear .
For the harvest is ripened ,
and the birds steal  it’s grain ,
for man toils in sorrow ,
and nothing will he gain .

For  His sons and his daughters are starving
and the church takes his land ,
his crops
for the kings subjects own nothing ,
and die in their shame
for monistories and land
Holy war crusaders who march without debt,
for all the kings horses ,
Power and wealth .


And then came famine and war ,
Pestilence and plague
death and disease ,
like never before .
“;bring out you’re dead ,”:
as  England’s pleasant lands were stripped of their . Wealth .

O,wreath of the nations where brave men hath trod
and carried the cross ,
for those who have nought .
And brought reforms where once slavery was rife ,
to the families who have children ,
a home and a wife .
And held up banners at factory gates ,
where machines and smoke brought nothing but death on a
Plate .

How tender the years that brings but tears ,
that brings forth the grain ,
with the sickle and shear .

For once the grains have been harvested
and the birds have all fled ,
the farmers wife still
brings home nothing once her family’s been fed .
o


....

Oh meadows of no beast and fowl ,
I wander where the wild winds blow to every discontent .
For above me and not below ,
the Bearded Vulture circles high above my heavy load .

Far above what I can see ,
the far off murmring of the trees ,
for distant lands has come to this ,
from far away  an evil kiss ,
Where the Bearded Vulture seeks its prey .


For my journey is thick with pine and birch ,
and rugged staff ,
and thicket and bristle and thorn .

For his is the heavens above Gods earth ,
that by his hand gave it birth ,
to feast on bone ,
not rotting flesh
and to seek out kingdoms vast in wealth .
High above what we call trees ,
high above the bullet and gun ,
where man wages endless war and the songs of peace are never sung .  
Far fowl then where cows  and sheep ,
graze in pastures not knowing this ,
that don’t in terror look to the skies ,
to seek out the talons and beek .,
and what ever flys .

Once hundreds roamed and called their home ,
built over centuries and still ,
they lived in peace ,
and the land bore fruit ,
and they feasted upon their labours ,
still,.
Children played out in the sun ,
life was pleasant on the side of the mountain side .

But war Lords grinding machines of war ,
the Ottoman  empire was no more .

The battle cry of Independence Day ,
and all the love would be blown away .

To kingdom come with  bullets and guns ,.
and homes left in ruins as the people ran .
All those plans to one day return ,
their homes lay empty ,
And the birds built nests ,
and trees gathered their roots .
And so where once a family’s prayed ,
gave thanks to God or Allah for their day ,
Mother Natures sowers got to work on,
what man had built brick by brick

For over the years as time passed by ,
no war machines or diggers could ever replace what war had ***** .


Just a ghostly reminder of mans need to grab the land ,
for immoral  greed of  evil man .

And so if you listen and be still ,
what lies behind the farmers gate can still be heard ,
the towns folk chatter beside this mountain side ,
and the sound of laughter as evening draws nigh .

Earthly  shadows fell
as  black clouds in slow procession started to meander
across the sky ,
as  grave yard  tombs started to cover  my eyes ,
the moment you’re presence left my  bed .

For you’re love for me that which once lit up my  skies
in radiant colours of you and I ,
a furnace that once set the moon ablaze
in so many different ways .
And  comets burnt the atmosphere that
was set ablaze in falling rays ,
the moment you drew near .


For you touched my heart in so many ways ,
like when we walked as if for days ,
across  planitory realms of space
forming
shooting stars of amazin grace .

For  we would watch the sun fall and rise
in glorious colours before our eyes .
“ For there lies infinity”  you said
as you squeezed my *** just before bed .
from which billions of stars are formed ,
and then die
each one set
before our eyes ,
like in some cosmic catastrophe,
like a story time that didn’t rhyme ,
as children cry themselves to sleep ,
in loving memory of little Bo Peep .


But for a time we lived,
and died ,
in such a short span of time
like shooting stars before our eyes

Goodbye my love
as I touch you’re ghost ,
but it’s what I want to feel the most ,
the soft touch of scent upon you’re skin ,
as if some day  we could start again ?

I sit alone staring into a world i do not know ,
or call my own .
For The pitter. patter of the rain ,
the song of the birds are a song unknown.

For her breath with mine was once so entwined ,
her hair once dangled before my eyes,
so elequent ,
yet so divine .
Yet her perfume on her lips I drank like the finest of wine
now vanished in a blink of time .

And so I sit in this chair of mine awaiting the sun ,
to shine ,
she was everything to me .
Divine .

For the song bird had never felt so sweet ,
as when with the daintiest of flowers ,
and her enchanting smile ,
she kicked off her shoes ,
and we jived a soda pop ,
a diddly dop at the local hop !

And O it is not yet spring and the storms of winter must
wither and fade ,

and as the rays of the sun shine on ,
Ice cream floats ,
and boats pass by ,
we will kick off our shoes and jive some day as the Ferrys sail by.

Then when the sun sinks behind the mount ,
It’s golden colours now all array ,
our Ferry shall we board on that day ,
and sail away under burning soda pop skies ,
where lilies dance in streams ,
far away ,
as we pass by .

I walked all alone in a garden where all around flowers started to bloom .
They open their eyes towards me ,
staring as if without a care ,
not even bothering if I had seen them there .

I walked further into my garden ,
a statue of a lady greeted me there ,
her eyes were far from me ,
as if I hadn’t seen her there .

Then when she thought I wasn’t looking ,
she turned to move her head ,
just enough so to see me ,
then quickly turned  away instead .


So I sat down to eat an apple to see what she would do ?
But after all it was a statue and they never look at you ?

So after a feeling of paranoia for  that’s what I felt I had become ,
the clouds started whispering to the noon day sun .

Then I had another apple and sat quietly on a bench ,
so the trees and their branches could talk-quietly amugst themselves ,
but they stayed silent ,
and all of a sudden I was left all alone ...
and all by myself ,
I set off towards home .

A bird pecks on a window frame .
Across the room ,
there was a cage  ,
its bars were cruel ,
yet kept the warm sunlight    
that beamed across the room .
" Are you.alright ?
asked the bird ,
who was outside ,
not trapped by the bars ,
thar held the other bird inside .

" i have enough water and seed to
keep me fed
and a bell that hangs from
my roof that keeps me safe ,
when the cat comes out to play .
And the lady who is elderly ,
who pokes and stares and says "
" pritty polly "  as she pulls a face ,
then lights a cigarette in at the foot of the stairs .

And  i can still fly ,
as i move side to side.

And so the cat arrives and claws at
my cage ,
as  i sqork and flap with fists of rage .
And theres a mirror ,
that hangs by itself from above  ,
so i can still see if i am  still  in love "?

"Thats all very "well said the bird
from outside ,
but the skys are blue ,
they have awoken for spring
and your stuck inside
with a cat who cant sing.

The bird didnt wait for an answer ,
but when he returned ,
the budgie  ,
dropped dead from his perch ,
as his  cage was opened ,
the old elderly who by now was very frail ,
fed him to the cat ,
with its very long tail .

And so every night on her porch before ten ,
the cat who could now sing
with the old lady and her banjo,
They sat on a rocking chair
and sung to the birds ,
in the cool night air ,
O haven’t you heard ?

Beware the flight of the black gull ,
It’s wings are not broken ,
it hasn’t food to eat ,
yet lies in far reaches of our mind could ever reach .

It’s shadows await me ,
It’s beak is strong ,
It hunts when I am tired of being alone so long .

It sees my indifference no thoughts of its own ,
if evil awaits me I shudder then sleep .
A thought for the dying ,
life is better than hell .

Seen through blinding sorrow ,
don’t pity my pain ,
for I sort it and craved it for tomorrow,
for now it’s going to rain .

For the black gull swoops to pluck eyes from its prey ,
a prayer for the dying it will never go away .

So when I am good ,
It still looks down ,
when I am away from it’s shadows ,
It’s always around .
i Look up one slip ,
and I’m gone !

And winter gave it’s stormy blast ,
where’s sales were lost to their riggin masts ,
and souls were cast down upon the waves ,
never to be see. Or saved .

But as the sailor gripped his mast
his fingers now a mix of blood and grit  ,
for days without water or food  he went

Before the freezing waters lapped around his waste ,
and all he could hear were the cry’s of his men ,
begging for mercy before another wave swilled then again .

Forty days and nothing to drink ,
Forty days of rotting meat
Forty days a sailor ,
and all without Ezmerelda .

And they all  missed their wives and ******
or ***** who used to tie them
to the floor ,
but above all the women they loved the more ,
there was no one like Ezmerelda

And now the waters are all around ,
and our sailors fingers bleed as frost.bight  cuts off his fingers and toes ,
but all he ever thinks of his days with Ezmerelder .


and still he sings ,
Forty days with nothing to drink ,
Forty days of rotting meat
before the waters took him down

She hid herself from my sight ,
Of which i could not embrace ,
the beauty of her loving touch .

The crystal waters of the seas ,
reflected gently on her breeze ,
all of which were not mine ,
but borrowed from her wings of time .

Yet before do I now tremble in fear ,
for the crystal waters becon me near ,
never to look upon her face stretching out towards the mountains .


There the shallows of dark waters where ,
caught like moonlight in the air ,
she pulled me under ,
Without a care ,
as if I would ever follow her there ?


And there she stood in crystal white ,
her eyes beamed ,
though they hid not light,
and I was able to see her face ,
it shone as if it were white .
My lungs were full ,
I could not breath ,
and slowly ,
slowly ,
I sank to my knees ,
then .
All  went black ,
Indeed .

Light filled my blackened gaze ,
all was lost
untill I heard her say ,
‘ take my hand ‘ .
and so light entered by moonlight ,
my soul I surrendered to thee .

There. Once  was a dancing firelight unto which their  embers burnt ,
bewitching of the evergreens beneath where no one. ever  goes .

  For it was beneath the firelight she  went dancing ,
I know not how or when ,
or how long she stayed.,  for above it I heard  the Sylphs singing ,
their songs again and again .

Or dancing spirits i could not say
their form I could not tell ,
but she looked at them with piecing eyes ,
above the moonlit knell .

But if phantom bells don’t haunt me ,
as her winds sailed ever near,
a melody I heard you singing ,
were as sweet as lavender .

Oh these wretched wounds were borrowed she wore them like a trinket
on her ear ,yet                                                             ­                             when she turned to look at me her countenance disappeared.
Her brow and cheeks looked farrowed ,
her eyes gave out a stare ,
she took me back a moment ,
then  looked at me as if I wasn’t there .
Then turned away ,
as the fire slowly died ,
she took a stick to poke it ,
then looked into my eyes .

But somehow she was different ,
the girl I knew so well ,
she touched my touch as We put out the fire ,
as the sun rose ,
behind the trees ,
their naked branches I could not see ,
as the sun gave out its gaze so well .
Then smoke began to choke me as                          
I forgot what I had seen, as she whispered to me ,
“ now let my demons die “
underneath the evergreen.

Wishing my supporters a very warm
Christmas    
special thanks to Fawn and crazy D,
and Dragos !

How silent the wood seems now ,
that everyone has left .
Or perhaps they never were ,
to the untrained eyes of the unwanted guest ?

The streams and Brooks are still flowing ,
their waters never end ,
and the birds will soon be chirping,
alive their happy song .
to reclaim the wood that man once trod ,
and thought he once belonged .

Her Queen is now in paradise she  goes a waltzing through her trees ,
caught only by the passing dancing whispers of her leaves .
“ She looks happy now for the strangers bones
have now all broken ,
for they have turned to mulch before her feet ,
and lie a compost for her bed .

and the leaves and trees before her , they form a trail before her ,
and so ,
break out in song .

they go on and on and on .
As the winds and trees obey her ,
and sing her happy tune .

And soon the trees are Waltzing with each other in her wake ,
for nothing shall stand before her ,
not man ,
or beast or snake .

For the costers who once sold apples ,
they stripped them from her trees.                                                         they  came across a glade in the Forrest .
They  lit fires and gorged on anything that flew ,
or swam ,
or moved ,
then fell in silence to their knees .

And by dusk they all had all vanished ,
not a *** or burning ember to be seen .

As as for the men who came with axes to cut down what they could find ? Well they disappeared like the stranger ,
under no rock or stone could they hide .

And as the sun rises softly ,
into a warming pastel hew ,
her warm rays balm in sunlight ,
as the Queen takes up her throne ,
to gaze upon in glorious sunlight ,
for  her throne is made out of skin and bone ,
content that man knows  best,
to think that the Forrest is his home .

If you never hear from me again ,
just remember this ,
it is that I loved you with the fondness of spring ,
for it was not in a twinkling that I did depart ,
but it was to ever lay upon the ruins of my heart ,
the sadness it would bring .
For Not an ounce was it not spared ,
upon these mill. Ponds ,
that rippled ,
that laid bare upon this  frozen earth ,
those daffodils of spring .


But alas this winter is eternal has laid contempt upon my brow ,
as our bodies perish ,
from this cold ,
but  let it not be like this if it  is it to be remembered ,
for only  by the merriment of youth ,
shall it be endowed ,


That we should ever spend our days on earth ,without a friend ?

And the dear sentiments of when we first met ,
are now only tinged with the  deepest regret .
That these bitter winds one day might end ,
and if they do I beg  of you ,
that you will see me ,
not then  as the years have marched on ,
but as a companion and a friend.


But if not the years than what ?
For the years in all their  dearest forms ,
should dare to charm what we once knew .
For if it were my last food parcel would I not give unto you ?

For if it not Charity should ever boast about things just as these ,
It is that this endless winter should ever  bring us to our knees ,
and walk cap in hand to our Lord and master of thi# land ,
that he should take pity on the plight we now stand ?
Or if a passing stranger should walk on by ,
and take ruth,
under these blackened skies ?
Or just find one more thing to wither and die .

But they themselves have not food to eat ,
and walk aimlessly about these  forever cursed streets .

And as of now you lye unmoved ,
upon the ground
as snow gives you  it’s blanket of spring ,
unmoved unbowed ,
the daintiest most beautiful thing ,
Layed to waste upon the ground .

For now I to  must sleep for a while ,
for death is only the first flower of spring,
the most prettiest ever eternal thing