Rudolph and the refugee child

A refugee child wondered weary and tired

looking for some food, shelter and warmth from a fire

but the snow fluttered from the sky

was Christmas a lie?

Rudolph flew down from on high

he would take the the child to the land of elves and presents

Father Christmas would feed the orphan child a roast pleasant

and show him the love the best present of all

in our hearts we must all break the wall.

Politicians shouldn’t use people as pawns

Should anything be done for political gains?

the political game

should played fair.

Choose your battles with care

I have seen politicians using people as pawns

I want to reiterate the fact that this is despicable and leaves us all forlorn

yes we need a voice

but we shouldn’t be a means to an end

bend us and we will break

don’t make promises that you can’t keep

just for ambition

I have premonition that you will be found out

and lose your political clout

because we see through your veneer

however thickly it is smeared

and however you muddy the waters

or use smoke and mirrors

you will never be forgiven

for your gaslighting

will be called out

and we all know the truth will be heard

it cannot be caged like a bird

it is more than just a word.

The hero is known as the villain

The hero is known as the villain

Schizophrenia is chilling

in my mind

unkind thoughts strain

hurt by incandescent pain

A voice that chains my soul

yet in the distant soul an angel calls me

the only way I can get to you is time

and living out this life of madness and grime

Ghost FM

The radio booms on speakers

it’s enough to wake the dead

zombies re attach their heads

ghosts clammer for attention.

What’s this dissenting dismal story

breaking from the ordinary

it must be the radio news.

This towns a ghost town and we are out of sight

dead ravens take flight

like they have been reanimated by Edgar Allen Poe

the word nevermore repeated.

Disco lights dance in the dusty ghostly radio station studio

the presenter moves his skeletal hand

and slides the controls to the peak setting.

his voice a long forgotten recording

playing jingles old songs and adverts

for a town where no one is around…

Ghost stories

Rain falling on the decomposing leaves
cold autumn air breathed in warm lungs
the wind blows muttering ghost stories
into our ears.

Pumpkins carved into wickedly twisted smiles
we dress up for Halloween discos and parties with style
gathering sweets as we go
while the full moon glows

Bonfires built as we wait for the 5th of November 
when fireworks will explode and sparkle in the night sky
we remember the gun powder plot 
as we toast marshmallows on the bonfire.

You are darkness

You are darkness

but there are stars shining in that darkness

the night gives the stars room to shine

and heaven is a heart that mines

all the diamonds in the sky

for us when we die

you cannot have the light without the dark

you cannot have light without a spark

which illuminates the dense darkness of night

we gravitate towards the light

we need it’s warmth like a beacon

otherwise we weaken

but the dark is place of growth also

and we grow in the dark towards the light.