Waking up

Waking up on a cold brown leather sofa

Not knowing who I am

a man and women ask me how I am?

I ask them if they have any children?

they say no

then a child comes in from the voids light

it’s her birthday

she says I will never drive as knight rider plays on tv

then she asks for a sister and two appear

more birthday girls although one older and one younger

Years on I went to that house

a girl not the same one says something terrible happened here to you

because of you

I hear it in the whispers on the telephone

I see visions of the man being arrested

how did I get home?

memories fragmented

this waking dream won’t relent

I am prevented from seeing what happened

A National scandal

A National scandal

that’s hard to handle

Eton boys

with powerful people used as toys

the ploys

of system

billionaires with their terror wrists write cheques

disabled people die with no respect

media moguls cry wolf

when they are predators

preying on our petty fears

making us cry fetish tears

we are the children who have no power

soured by the failing democracy

an autocratic dictatorial government

of hypocrisy

who no longer view as people

an evil view of us as merely slaves

to a system

which will make us redundant

which AI and robots will make abundantly clear

through a narrow lens.

The Emergency Poet

The feel of the pen

on the paper

the poet grabs a verse.

the dripping of morphine

the flow of endorphins

flow of electronic lines

across the monitor

let’s hope we don’t flatline

this mere mortal

needs a portal to the stars

this mere mortal needs

defibrillation to the heart

the way the poetry forms

in the lungs and the mind

the way life needs beauty

is sometimes unkind

I am the blood transfusion

the illusion

of poems

bells chime

Electrons flow

Radioactive X-rays know

Poetry opens doors

I am the emergency poet

I will take flight

in flames

never shall I be tamed

But I will make that heart beat

and get you out of your seat

And on the road to recovery

and discovery

Because poetry heals

and steals back our songs

what could go wrong?

Politician

Spinning

Winning rhetoric

when the masses are losing

make your money on the side

as worlds collide

you have no answers

A gamer a chancer

playing backgammon

a dragon

of a bygone age

waging war

against the poor

and disabled

corporations own your soul

sponsored by …

do you believe your own lies

Media tycoon

your ego more inflated than a hot air

balloon

a lying silver spooned goon.

The heart felt home

The warmth of a fire

in a welcoming home.

The way the words settled I was not alone,

time spent with friends

the tying of loose ends

and memories made in all seasons

reasons why we made this place is home

the love and friendship I was shown

whether playing board games with others

or just laying and chilling out under bed covers

we made this our home

and we feel safe and respected

with freedom to roam.

Orpheus

Orpheus

A beautiful poet singing beautiful poetry

oh no…

lost your wife

went to hades with your life

made king hades and Persephone shed a tear

and let you in

Resolved to rescue your beautiful dead wife

but you would fail

When you turned back she fled back into hade’s shades

destroyed by love

destroyed by love and loss

pray to the sky that you will meet her again

but love is just beautiful blood stain

and what we are is merely blood, fire and dust and a soul.

Exceptional

In the days when the exception they say

doesn’t need correction.

we are all creative

but some have it beaten out of us

at some stage

the war the exceptional person rages

is either to have their words heard

or to keep their creative side alive

and not have it brutalised or strangled

an Angel or messenger of light

has to fight to maintain their angle of light

and their perspective and sight.