do you mean to tell me, Sir, that the turn of a century
means a change in our ways?
that the start of a new millennia will successively bring
a new wave of respect for me?

don't look so ******* sour darlin', I didn't hurt you
3 hours ago, with the walk home I take everyday,
comes the abuse I must also take daily
and my inner monologue is drowning every ounce of self control I hold
but my fearful mouth is paralysed by the anxiety
or is it the fear that has been built into my body
since the day I was born, to tell me never to resist
to the cat calls, the wolf whistles, the rowdy drunken men
shouting at me, always shouting

*******, love, it was only a compliment
A compliment.
Is dehumanising me, demoralising me, and leaving me afraid
supposed to fill my heart with delight? Or the utmost fear.
You knew which you would inflict upon me. You always know.
My palms are sweaty as I walk away, I try to stay calm.
If you see me cry. You see me weak. You will try to attack.

be careful walking home if it's dark, keep something small and sharp with you
would my parents have chanted this mantra to me,
each and every day
had they conceived a boy? No.
Would my gut be plagued with pain and fright
at the thought of crossing a group of boys
in the blackness of night
if I was not a woman? No.
Do I deserve this? In a society  that

*Being a woman is frightful. Being alive in this time, is the most painful thing
I will ever have to endure.
But boys. Don't you forget.
I may be young, and slightly feeble now.
But I am a lioness.
I am growing. I am sharpening my teeth and claws.

I am ready. Do not push me too far. I am ready, to pounce and
to destroy all that has ever sought to destroy me
I am strong. I am stronger than you, and any male
that has ever tried to break me.
You are nothing but putrid boys.
I will not back down. I will not stand around
and watch you attack my sisters.
I am a woman.
And yes, you should be scared.

The symbols of arriving springtime have come late this year
in north-west London.
The blossom on the apple tree outside my bedroom,
heralding the anticipation of renewal
and the promise of life to come
has been delayed by several weeks.
And the flowering is less profuse than ever.

I try to seek the metaphor;
the concatenation of my personal survival
conveyed by the tree’s own growth.
But what does the linkage signify?
Another year?  Another life?  Another death?
Or none of these?

And if I yearn for signs of immortality
then I am doomed to morbidity,
as the tree is programmed to portray
a slow, inexorable but unmistakable decline.

And still I know that morning light
will daily draw me to my bedroom window
and the forlorn desire to see some sign
some hope, some promise, some assurance
that there is no inevitability
of change,
save that it be change itself.
Instead of which I am presented with
a demoralising symbol of uncertain hopes.

Spring should be an optimistic season;
the blossom on the tree should herald
a renewal, not a death.
But this poor springtime growth has
merely served to reinforce
the fears and sadnesses of
Winter’s  tribulationary concerns.

ENVOI
Five days the blossom stayed
and then was gone.
Nor were concerns allayed,
but hopes were thus betrayed
and possibilities undone.

Stoic amid the tranquil tides, the temperate zephyrs
But a fluttering spark, travelling through the aeons
Witness to the wonders of time, yet ever fleeting
The bearer of that which outlasts this eternal folly

However, for a certainty, even this steadfast paragon
Does not foresee what the clock hands have in store
And the fallen mouth their soft, intelligible rhymes
Thus the air carries this ephemeral elegy of euphony

But as the voices dance within those hallowed halls
Sound brilliantly in harmony, a display of fervour
The mosaic of echoes dismantled by fate's clutches
Changes imminently, unavoidably, flawlessly

Alas, the decadent phantoms of the days long gone
In their irrefutable devotion to their fallacious lord
Seek naught but to extinguish the astral avatar
Embodied within the solitary luminaire, ever vigilant

Does the final line of defence lay dormant even now
As the messenger of the deep beyond revivifies
The illusion dispelled, disenchanted, disengaged
Situation growing direr, the peacekeeper absent

Sealed within a decrepit maze, the mirrored world
Drawing parallels between the unimaginable still
Lost its own essence in the steadily rising entropy
For none are safe; the fabric of reality is wounded

Tendrils escape from the fissure, liberated at last
Come what may, the very barriers between realms
Once separating life and death, light and darkness,
Brought down in a prismatic flash of scintillation

And as that which tore this rift open runs rampant
The spectres of the past in their perpetual undeath
Whisper but a single innocent inquiry of naiveté
"May we reclaim our corporeal selves once more?"

An epiphany unlike most defeats wishful thinking
The clairvoyant beholder, the ever-present observer
Held their answer for as long as the currents of time
Although hope succumbs last, what is after hope?

Thus, in the demoralising wake of the bitter truth
Let the untamed flames of fury loose, such tragedy
Doom befalls the woeful, weary and withered worlds
For the inconspicuous spark has ceased its motion

The end justifies the means in the mind of madness

I let it all out into the corner
I shout every word out at me
Can't take it any farther
Need a dead end to let it be

Now I can't
Be spending my days this way
So I must
Find a new way to get paid
Now I can't
Be simply walking away
But I trust
I won't be kept like a slave

This was written with my head on the table
Once again I'm feeling unstable
I found inspiration away from the public
Where I hide like a suspect

Words from on high to continue
Through the anger rising
There's always another issue
It's all so demoralising

Now I can't
Be spending my days this way
So I must
Find a new way to get paid
Now I can't
Be simply walking away
But I trust
I won't be kept like a slave

The things I do to make it through the day
Is more than I am willing to say
Worker #23 reporting for duty
I will break in the newbie

Another ten years spent here
I keep talking my life away
There's nothing more to endear
It will end never or today

Now I can't
Be spending my days this way
So I must
Find a new way to get paid
Now I can't
Be simply walking away
But I trust
I won't be kept like a slave

In this dark and demoralising time
Herds of sheep walk along in a line
Deaf and numb reeling in despair
Look at the pawn shops , they've sold their minds
Instead buying a propaganda of lies
Too blind to see , too dumb to realise
They are the Soldiers of faith
The army of hypocrite eyes
And they march on , left and right
Straight to the moon
In the shadows they hide , as they walk to the doom
Puppets in the hands of the lords
Rage and fury are the new gods
As they open their infant mouth in their names
As they bestow their misguided enlightenment
To be a part of this game
They are filled with words and a thousand sentences
They feed on the present and forget the consequences
And leave their caves only in the time of unification
A part madness , a part hallucinations
And they march on and oh they march on
The soldiers of fate , the army of hypocrite eyes
Straight for the moon
And not even one stands up to steer them of the inevitable doom...

3 am , a cigarette and a bed.
It's the shortest demoralising story and it's not so bad,
It's not sad either ,
it's just cleaning up of all the mayhem caused by children themselves. Growing up into chain smoking  adults who didn't learn to smoke cigarettes from their friends.

The gangsters of Crimson
tell us please about this Doubts malarkey
oh you Guvnor of the Eat End Mob

ye Gotcha, come listen..matey

we ain't Crooks, Con-artists and Extortioners for nothing
we are smart cookies, been in this game all our lives
listen matey, hear me
know what we said, slander is the main leveler
That patsy we have the contract on
the man is as straight as dye
innocent as the day is born
never did a thing wrong, no dirt did we find on him
decent nice upright upstanding fellow
as nice as apple pie and iced cream

But he had the gull to diss our trade
yes we are thieves and crooks and all time rotters
but he said he would expose us after we robbed the ******
others don't say ****, just claim insurance and shut their gob
but not this sunshine, the ****** called us out
he din't pay protection money
then moaned when we rob him blind, now he gets the treatment
don't mess with the Guvnor ye Mr Righteous

We have ways, first thing is to discredit the ******
its Character assassination, public humiliation, we ruin his life
so we slandered him from here to Timbuktu or where the darkies are
we told high tales and hyped the hell outta that patsy
you know how good the ******* are in spreading malicious gossips
we paid their leaders and sent them all out
wow! did they do a good job or what. it went down a treat
the punters swallowed every word, every defamation stuck like glue
even his mother would find it hard to love him
hahaha...think he could stand up to us

after all that malarkey and mud throwing
we now have to stalk and hound the ****** and make him loose his mind
Now listen here, you just can't go to the stupid punters
and say, hound that man, they ain't that stupid
so you give em a good story, nice fake news in juicy wrapper
you create a false scenario, nice word eh, got that from the TV
anyways, you sell the dopes some fake scenario
then tell them you are controlling the mud splatter royal star
tell the dopes anytime they see him they must do this or that
you get the demoralising mob trolls to write dirges and *******
till the day is long, tell them they are putting doubts in his mind
planting seeds to haze, hanker and give the ****** grieve
cause they are confusing him, as well as invalidating the c--t

You see bozos, what we are doing is relentlessly mobbing him
getting at him, snipping and chipping away, wearing him down
make him feel the whole world is against him
leave him isolated, friendless, hounded and helpless
we must make him **** himself for he is a non-criminal grass
and that's how we sort those goodie two shoes out
we poison their world till they poison themselves
we use the punters to drive him insane

Ah, clever or what, who says crooks and villains aren't clever
we are manipulating the stupid masses and they are eating outta our hands
we make them believe false scenario, get the numpties to do silliness
watch how they go for it, all convinced they are doing solidarity
listen my son, the only education you need is no ******* university
come learn from us, the people or punters, call em what you will
are as dumb and brainless as jellied eels
You steal their brains and their stupid minds
an tell them you are teaching them how to **** royal mind
they can't wait to cast 'doubts' on fuckall nothing doing

We know the game, we know the punters
that poor patsy hasn't got a chance
I tell you what though
this contract is the hardest we've ever done
we've put this ****** through the mill for yonks
given the whole nine yards and more to push him over the edge
Yet, the ******* still stands, laugh and even talk back
******* heck, this man must be an alien.......

Go play with the petty minds of your ilk's
where snowflakes drip
and pennies short of farthings marry tool
boxes with blunt edges
waving neon signs of induced paranoia
and coloured seeds in brine
for in their market place of trading places
its for sale at gun point
after all Chrissie Capone sold the copyright
and the blueprint of
planting seeds of staining and discolouration
as they do in prisons
to prey on and bully and intimidate victims
tap on the demoralising skits
and make yourselves puppies on chained leads
but alas not all are brainless
You can fool some of the people all of the time,
and all of the people
some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the
people all of the time.
do majority decide how long a piece of string is
ye simple buyers of neon jives

The schizophrenic with the multiple profiles
sits all day in various guises
venting tirades and his versions of deluded events
exchanging comments
with him selves and notes of friendships with his alter egos
Always deep in neurosis
and in the innate vapidity of the ****** witless grandee
our gender changing
nationalities changing and location changing slime vies and
zig-rags hurriedly from
one profile to the other the physical link so glaring its comical
as it more so exposes the narcissist
the dumb egotist craving attention power validation and self
aggrandisements from him selves
to him selves as he uses his other profiles pop in to massage his ego
Mad and full of bumf and nothing
our poet and poets of doubts and the demoralising schlock
selves congratulates in prolification
Our witless wonder glaringly compensating his small ***** or
even perhaps its a rancid frustrated *****
staying totally impervious that his infantile trickery serves no purpose and his endeavours laughable
The Learned mind sees the classic narcissist feeding his wanton
needs desperately craving eluded self worth
Regardless a weak cowardly inadequate neurotic bullying perp troll is just that....a pathetic nonentity seeking relevance
and fooling him selves