The World
Innocents
|
Down Not Out
|
In a war-torn town
on a cold Christmas morn' two children huddle close trying to keep warm. They have asked for no presents, no toys of fun, just for the gift of life and the silence of the gun. Cellular Madness Everywhere I go I see people talking. Frequently to themselves, whilst walking. Hands to ears, eyes seeing little. Sometimes whispered words discreetly spoken. But mostly in a loud voice, echoing off walls. On street corners, in shopping malls. On public transport,, getting out cars. Sitting on benches, in quiet city parks. Buy, sell, deals done deals broken. Marriage proposals, love poems, text unspoken. Texts to avoid meeting face to face. Goodbye,! I have found somebody else. Sign of the times, tinged with sadness. It must be cellular madness. Paranoia Footsteps. Drawing ever closer. Increasingly louder. I stop. Wait. Intake of breath. Look around. No one. Just blackness. I walk faster. Heart pounding. Silence. Then... Footsteps louder. Closer. Glimpse of long hair. Ring in nose. Leather coat. Paranoid mode. ' Dropped yer wallet mate?’ ' Oh! Thanks.’ Nothing But Lint Nothing but lint in my pocket. It could be said that I am skint. I did have cash to start the day. But money, no sooner earned, is no sooner spent … they say. Now I sit alone in a diner cafe. Slowly drinking one last black coffee. But hey! What is that on the floor? Near the leg of the table by the door. It's a new penny coin all shiny with glint. Now there is something in my pocket … besides lint. Satan's Reject
He walked through the misty fog,
as day gave way to night. The hinges rattled on the graveyard gate, The sign for the dead to be alive. The howls of the un-forgiven, were secreted within the wind. No rest for the wicked, No rest for those who had sinned. The flesh hung off his creaky bones, giving off an odious smell. Disowned by Satan himself, Turned away from the gates of Hell Doomed to exist in torment, until the end of time. What fate awaits the living is unknown until comes the time for them to die. Peace Talks
I had an uneasy feeling,
When I saw that meeting. Two men staring face to face, signs of emotion there was not a trace. Each argued his case, weak and strong, Both were convinced the other was wrong. The first one said, ‘Please justify your bomb that killed the innocent, both old and young.’ The second one spoke, ‘Freedom is worth fighting for, those people were unlucky, casualties of war.’ The two men debated all night and all day, taking no heed of what the other had to say. Then I saw the reason why things were so strange, two men stubborn, opinions that would never change. Eye eying eye, two men became one. Speaking with a single voice, mirrored in unison. Why The Sun Works To Rule
At 10 A.M on Friday 13th July The Sun emerged from a cloud. After five minutes shining bright thought, 'Sod this, I'm going back to bed. right now' The Weather King called up Rain But only got an answer phone. Thor the God of thunder, was sick in bed. An accident with a hammer it was thought. Try as he might, the Weather King Could not find someone to replace The stubborn immovable Sun. Who was now working to rule. A better deal was his demand. It was agreed for shorter hours And if Sun was late rising Overcast would cover the time. Longer holidays was also agreed. Forty-eight to fifty weeks per year. So if you want to see Summer Sun. Don't blink when looking in England, Because he might not be there. . |
Recently I spoke to a young man. Let’s say his name was John. He told me all about his life, And the things he had done. Coming from a broken home, and abused by someone close. He said he fell behind in reading and sums, receiving lower grades than most. He left school aged just sixteen, joined the army, felt there was nothing else. He was taught how to march, to obey, and how to kill. In self defence He was told when to sleep. When to wake up, when to eat. He was feeling content, felt his life was complete. He was then sent to the Afghan war, returned with anxiety and stress. The army he loved he had to leave, His nerves were in a mess. He moved into a bedsitter flat, with the remains of his army pay. But soon fell behind with the rent, and told 'Get out right-away!’ Not knowing where to go, he walked the streets by day. At night sleeping on cardboard. In a secluded shop doorway. Passer-byes ignored his begging pleas, muttering ‘He is on the dole, will only spend money on drink and drugs.’ His medal proudly worn, some said he stole. Then one night someone did stop, helped him to his feet. Took him to a sheltered home, gave him something to eat. He was taught how to read, enrolled on an IT course. He was shown where to seek help, and said he was able to find some work. Now he is a leader at the home, helps others change their lives. For those like he once was, I asked if he had advice. He said, 'My friend, believe in yourself, never have self doubt, say to yourself each and every day, ‘"I may be down, but not out." Radio version By Order Of The Committee Children must be kept under strict control at all times. BY ORDER OF T' COMMITTEE. There’ll be no swearing in front of t' ladies. BY ORDER OF T' COMMITTEE. There’ll be no talking during t' bingo. BY ORDER OF T' COMMITTEE. All affiliated members must sign in by ten. BY ORDER OF T' COMMITTEE. All members WILL enjoy themselves BY ORDER OF T' COMMITTEE. Illusions
Cough and splutter in a crowded room.
A juke-box is playing another dreary tune. Lonely man feeds a bandit spending next week's rent. Woman sits at bar smothered in make-up and scent. Young men at pool table in torn and holey jeans, Are shouting in unison about favourite football teams. Soon elephants are pink leprechauns are green, Unreality is the truth that we have seen. Cold, cold beer brings on the confusion; it’s the outside world that is now an illusion. Earth's Last Battle
The last man on Earth
searched the city ruins As a brave young soldier he had served his country well Under the debris and rubble he found a beautiful woman But when he saw her rebel badge he shot her through the heart. Then sang a victory song. Earths last battle won. The Letter
A letter was received from a far-off land,
please send us some aid if you possibly can. Our fields are barren, our cattle long gone, our farmers are now soldiers leaving wives at home. Some of our families are homeless, dwellings destroyed, by shells aimed at our villages, which we cannot avoid. Our children are starving; they have no clothes to wear. As for medical supplies, these are very scarce. So please send at once the things we desperately need, food, clothing, and medicine, this we beg and plead. We must thank you for all that you have done, and could you also send more ammo for our guns. What If
What If
the shouts for peace were heard over the sound of guns. What if the sweet smell of success was smelt by everyone. What if the path of the powerful was not built by treading on the weak. What if the sight of money did not blind the way people speak. What if dreams were more than just dreams. What if! Roswell - July 8th 1947
The inhabitants of Quintar V
Were in many ways like Man They evolved from legless blobs And from the unkind sea Ventured onto land. Their technology advanced In only a few thousand years. Hyperspace was soon available. So the greater minds left to search the stars. For many light years they travelled. Through universes and galaxies galore Generations grew up on their ships The young were taught space ship skills And prepared in peace to greet new life. Eventually they came upon Earth. And at Roswell began their descent. But despite all the knowledge gained. The spaceship into the ground crashed. The brainiest creatures in all the Milky Ways Did not know how to land. |