Ever met someone with a face in them like a boot on backwards
They got out the wrong side of the bed and the beds against the wall!
I would catch her face, drifted of into the past just for moments thinking of him.
The years had passed and I knew she had used me to get over him.
But he was never out of her mind.
The mistakes, excuses. Yes he had cheated on her but she used all she learnt from him to use me.
Then when the time was right.
Never be someones second choice or backup plan.
Jesus said believe in me.
The church says
believe in the bible.
Jesus never asked for money.
The church never stops asking!
Running late and running on empty with the kids kicking off and the weather against her.
Has to be there for 835 and at 840 they rolled up outside.
The eldest stroppy as she's back to school the middles in a tantrum and wanted to stay at home.
The youngest crying and wanting a feed and her ******* sore from the infants greed.
Looked at and watched by the perfect mums who have it all and whisper amongst them.
Back to the car and home for the feed she looks in the mirror and what can she see.
Yesterdays make up, still on her face no time to exfoliate.
My mind is somewhere else today. A collective lack of sleep and time being the main protagonists.
But.. A few things made me chuckle.
A good friend and Vicar posted what looks like a screen shot of a prayer meeting on zoom.
Don't think for one minute I'm bashing their faith or ingenuity. Quite the contrary. Talking to him is a breath of fresh air in my experience of organised religion. However I digress.
There are lots of boxes of the participants. And one blank.
With one dark box. No picture. Then that little voice in my head said.. I wonder if they all out of the corner of their eye kept looking at the box in the hope it says
"God joined the meeting"
or it suddenly went blindingly bright and a voice said
"Sorry I'm late it's getting busy here with covid, well I'm not late really am I because time is only a construct for you."
Would the omnipotent one ask how they all were out of courtesy?
Knowing the answer already?
Which leads me to free will.
If God already knows what's going to happen and what you're going to do what is there to look forward to for God?
As you were
Locked up locked down and some ******* too!
2020 did it all to you.
Hardship and loss fear and withdrawal.
Anger and rants from the quietest we know.
Who would have thought a virus so small and a blonde haired buffoon could have angered us all.
So try and be kind and keep hold of your ****.
I hope to still see you when we're over it.
So for whom the bell tolls?
Well it tolls for us all.
Not just after 10!
She watched them all, their every move as they turned and swept across the dancefloor.
Every step logged and recorded.
Then at night she danced alone with their shadows.
They were hers
A wardrobe full of dress she had bought on the web.
Never worn for anyone but herself.
A draw full of photos clippings of James Bond wannabes she would always say she loved them but never had chance to meet.
She knows every detail of every ****** position.
But never tried any because that involved people.
Her own little world where she hid herself away.
Where no one was cruel or could ruin her day.
In a world she created as she didn't fit in.
The girl you would love but you never met.
There is more grey now.
Silver flecks in once brown hair.
Wrinkles a plenty and marks never noticed.
Skin drier and eyes glassier.
It was slow.
Creeping up like a vine.
Then noticed by all.
Age took hold and skin lost its smooth look, traded for texture.
Then one morning.
I was old
It wasn't my shower
A rebel through and through!
Where you are now isn't your final destination.
Don't let anyone tell you it is.
She over thought everything,
to the smallest detail in everything.
So when after three glasses of wine and a full pack of Doritos she said
"I love you"
He knew she meant it.
He was not the man he seemed
Nor the man he wished to be.
More a soul in limbo
Neither who they saw or who he wished he was.
He fell in love with a version of her.
Not the woman that existed.
A version he projected.
A version dressed how he wanted her dressed.
Make up as he imagined not how she looked
Hair how he wanted, not her style.
Then when it came to intimacy, he didn't understand that wrapping something as you wished for doesn't make the contents the same.
A whole being created in his head to serve his needs.
The real her?
Trapped in a prison of fear.
When the lights go out and the day fades, when all you have is your thoughts and dreams.
Who do you dream of and imagine they're there?
Do they even know you care?
But now it's dark and your eyes are heavy.
The sand mans calling so don't be late.
Wake tomorrow and seize the day.
Because life's all that you alone make it x
The maths was wrong for exam results, that caused a mums revolt.
Now you're messing with primary schools and half the kids have Covid.
Then you rolled the dice again and landed on a 6, geometric progressions really aren't your thing.
If six meet six and six meet six and six meet six today, saving the NHS will be next weeks headline again.
And now it seems companies scammed your furlough scheme while you were buying PPE, you mates made a fortune but was useless to me.
We ate out to help out, that was the catchy line. What will be the next one..
Stay home or f###### die?
I was once asked the difference between good and bad.
After a while I said
You may not know you're doing good.
But you will always know if you're doing bad.
He slapped me.
That was my last ever brush with the catholic church.
Life boils down to ****.
We take **** we give ****
We see ****, we ignore ****
We cause **** we fix ****
We love **** we hate ****
We want **** we need ****
We want to lose ****, find ****
We know ****
But in all this ****
Don't be ****
Every page was part of the story.
Every sentence, every word.
Crafted over decades.
Like a book
They treated people the same.
Instead of reading all the pages, the good and the bad.
All they wanted to do was skim, flick through the pages to the good bits
Ignorant of the true story.
how the journey took them there.
Just looking for the happy ending.
Then after reaching the end of the page and realising that the story wasn't complete, they decided the book wasn't for them.
They may read a little more.
Come back and finger the pages for fun, but
it was only a few pages that made them feel good.
Finally they put the book down, tossed it aside and picked up a glossy magazine.
The kind that is relevant for two weeks then back to the recycle bin.
No substance all pictures, sensation and glitz.
In a couple of weeks a new copy to finger through.
So are you a book or a magazine.
Is there a story or a few extracts.
Are you a reader or do you flick through books and never read.
You see one day you have to pick up a book with your name upon it.
Will reading it be hard?
Will you simply flick through it unable to face your own story.
What lies beneath her painted smile, showing roots and sticky lashes.
A plot to steal your sanity in heels and spandex *******.
She's dressed to **** like a huntress.
She didn't bring a gun
When she takes the shot no sound is heard
Just the whimper of desire
Wrapped in cellophane as though preserved waiting to once again be opened.
He washed the sheets today, a month on.
Her scent now gone but He can still smell her.
He never wanted to feel again. He didn't have the capacity.
An Ill defined future.
But she lit up the room.
Like an arsonist with no thought as to what or who she burned.
It was like getting excited opening a tin of beans and craving them on toast, and finding half of it is liquid.
That said, she could never be a woman that only ate lettuce.
Her body was the incarnation of curvature.
Its sweeping form more beautiful than anything he had known or imagined, and yet fleeting.
For she was a muse.
What if one day you realise you have felt every emotion you think you can ever feel?
When that day comes
You may be unhappy in your relationship.
It doesn't mean others are in theirs.
Don't sow the seed of doubt in another's garden.
How others choose to love and live may not be the same as you.
They have no less a right to live and love than you so long as no one is hurt.
Oh no son
You can't go
They don't want
Now I've been around and here and there.
I've seen faces that fit and watched others stare.
Cos when you're not on the A list
Don't want you
I want you back she said.
I've made a mistake
It was a silly phase
Something I needed to do
I want you back and the way you kiss
The way you hold
The way you open doors
The way you hold my hand and stroke my hair
All the things I miss
But you had all that and then chose him
So why would you come back
The adventure done?
Had your fling and a thousand promises.
Your back because you aren't what they wanted no matter how you tried.
Your back to the comfort zone.
Back to tell more lies
There was a time when I could fall in love like the breeze teases the trees.
Simple, uncomplicated, fresh free.
But no more.
As I've aged it's as though it has drained from me.
Slowly at first, then with an urgency.
Like blood being drawn by a parasite.
Till one day you realise the emotional exsanguination is complete.
You are bereft, drained, empty.
A day comes where no matter how you try to start a fire.
The is no longer a spark.
You can no longer bear yourself enough to stay with another.
For it would indeed be like feeding on their very soul.
You are laid bare inside and out.
The journey of the lost.
When I was a child I had questions.
Why aren't dogs blue when the sky is?
Why don't they live long?
Why do we die?
Why do we have to go to school?
Why does it snow?
Why does it rain?
Why do we go to church?
Who is God?
Why do we pray to him, where is he?
As I grew many were answered. Grown ups knew best. The answers often not to my satisfaction but that's life you're told.
At 50 I have other questions.
Why do we ****?
Why do we starve?
Why do we hate?
Why do we bomb?
What makes one God better than another?
Why is your God worth killing for?
Now l am a grown up and I have the answers and I don't like them. Because now the grown ups are acting like children.
Why do they have no reason?
Why don't they seek peace?
Why must they keep killing?
Why am I the same species?
Because I really don't want to be part of this anymore.
There is a plague upon mankind it's symptoms are greed, hate, narcissism, mania, egotistical tunnel vision, delusion.
We fought wars to stop tyrants, now we vote them into power. We signed arms embargoes. Now we sign for more nukes.
We can't look after our homeless, our disabled, our sick, and we preach to others from our high ground. Yeah.. Both feet in quicksand and sinking. May our children be around long enough to forgive us. May they ask those very same questions. May they find better answers than we seem to have.
I'm not woke, so I am told.
Lectured to about oppression by a man in shoes that cost a week of my salary.
So here is some of what I'm not.
I'm not gay or trans or identified as something I'm not, but you can if you like I don't care at all.
I'm not totally white I'm a mix or a blend I don't see my own colour and to you that offends?
I'm not pro life nor death what a woman does is up to her.
If you dispute that do you think she cares?
I'm not into gods but you can have yours. Worship sing and chant if you like but please keep that to yourself.
So if you ain't happy you can burn your bra or block the road if you think it will furher your cause.
I've seen all that it's nothing new.
It's how it's done that defines you.
Meet on mass and air your views. But never presume or assume as it makes you a fool.
If I'm not one of you you say I'm one of them!
There you go assuming again.
Who I am is for me alone and I object to being pigeon holed.
So while you shout privileged and fed from a spoon I remember having holes in my shoes when I was at school.
Paper inside to keep out the cold till mum could afford to get some more.
I was a boy and had three sisters. So hand me downs didn't fit me.
My first bike had three previous owners who did more mileage than Lance Armstrong.
When I went to college and met new people.
It wasn't our differences that made us friends and we listend to punk and rock as well.
So who told us we all had to be offended when we came so far from all the hatred.
Those younger than me who now riot have never asked me why I am quiet.
I'm quiet because you're killing me.
Tearing apart society in the name of justice and equality.
The narrative of segregation is once again on the table and this time it's violence you use to enable.
If you hurt then fight to heal.
But don't be a fool and hurt others too.
Change the system not whats been.
Do it with peace like we did.
I remember strikes and three day weeks.
No sugar or butter and beans on toast, yet you post pictures of your Sunday roast telling me I simply don't know what it's like to be you.
Let me explain what I see of you.
You protest on media and scream for a cause.
Done from an iPad from China do you know where human rights are very poor?
My phone is made in South Korea.
More ethical I think you'll agree.
You keep telling us oldies were
part of the problem.
We don't understand.
We can't see your view.
Says someone in £500 shoes.
Who is privileged?
I am asking you.
I remember walking to school with holes in my shoes.
I've lost more than I ever knew I had.
Given more than I will ever receive.
Embraced fear knowing it held absolution.
I have been the pillar in others lives as they crushed me as foundations.
I have been the only light keeping others bright and I have fallen further into darkness without them seeing.
I will never be wealthy if you measure wealth by assets.
Have I loved?
Oh how I have loved.
Foolishly, recklessly, blindly, lost, found and forgotten.
But have I been true to myself?
Can any if us say we have?
I doubt it.
But I have tried.
Is there a cultural or historic version of Genocide?
Where you eradicate all nods to a past culture.
Erase any trace of it?
Does that not mirror the wrongdoings of the oppressors. Using the same ideology of a scorched earth policy.
If we wipe out all traces of a past discression who will remind us of it's danger.
Is it civilised to destroy one section of history?
You can't change it. You can learn from it and create a better future.
But destroying the past will never change it.
Only risk its repetition.
Why not leave them and put signs under them.
Explain who they were.
What they did.
Their terrible legacy.
Make them a monument to the shame of past ideology.
This won't sit with many peoples current narrative.
Auschwitz wasn't demolished for a reason and people still deny it was ever real.
Erase monuments to slavery and you risk the same fate.
Not with anger.
Anger is a natural response but won't make this better.
Make a statement that lasts.
Not a fire or rubble that's forgotten.
I have friends who sing, friends who dance.
Some are gay and some are not.
Some share opinions, others won't.
Some made mistakes and others they don't.
Some aren't white some are aren't.
Some are political, some are not.
Some like cats others dogs.
Some are spiritual, some not.
Some are tactile and others arms length.
Some share every detail when they vent.
Some say little but are always there.
Some get offended and others don't care.
Some scream foul, others referee!
But I love there differences, how do they see me?
I remember our first meeting.
She wore a seatbelt in a hackney. She said some things could never be spoken of, and proceeded to discuss them at length.
I never knew was it to entice me?
Or shock the driver.
I'm guessing a little of both as he seemed deflated when we reached our destination.
She talked of her ventures on the internet.
She called it ebay for people.
It's more like "click and collect" for Argos.
Buying unseen and hopeful it's not broken or not what you wanted when you got it home.
Moments later she passed out.
I carried her upstairs and put her to bed. Covered her as she talked in her sleep.
I'm guessing he wasn't from Argos.
But he was indeed broken.
I placed a glass of water next to her bed.
Closed the door.
We never spoke again.
And sometimes later becomes never
In dreams he's lived from the day, she died.
He never wanted to feel again. He didn't have the capacity.
I'll defined future.
Nothing inside now.
She lit up a room.
Like an arsonist!
She could get excited opening a tin of beans.
Now he craves beans on toast and finding half of it is liquid.
She could never be a woman that only ate lettuce.
And now all he sees is salad in people
Wrapped in cellophane I felt today as
I washed the sheets a month on her scent now gone.
Place the heart you had in youth within your hands and watch it beat.
For then it beat with passion and rage and skipped those beats when you were dazed.
Then hold the heart you have of now, the one you feel trying to burst.
As age and worries push its bounds in a world where we feel we may just drown.
With all its worries and all the fears we carry for ourselves and our loved ones dear.
Then take the heart of an older you, its beats slower now its journey through.
A heart that beat through love and loss and fear and joy till now...
Die with memories, not, just dreams and regret.
Her parting words as she walked away.
She never actually said a word.
Yet her voice echoed inside his head.
Not a scream or moan
You wouldn't know she was there
as they tossed and writhed in the bed
He moaned a lot he always did seeking encouragement for his carnal bids
But she was really somewhere else and kept her noises to herself
He often asked how was it for you?
I Mark exams not whoopdie doo.
It's not that she didn't have a voice to air mid coitus like a squalking bird.
More a sense of deep control letting no one see her all.
There is a box.
It holds all the thoughts, the dreams, the pleasures our passions, loves and more.
And yet, a box closed.
For in that box are our fears, our need, our failings, loses and regrets.
I know why the box is closed.
As Pandora knew.
For if opened all are freed.
Not just what we want others to see.
So we all have a box.
We speak of its contents.
Often omitting items.
Sometines speaking of things in others boxes, wishing they were in ours.
We all have little boxes.
How do classify the human zoo? Those that ride on mowers or walk behind? Those that garden or pay others too sythe?
How would we label the cage doors? Narcissist, liar, cheat or *****?
Swindler, thief, wife beater and more?
Or would we label them like science does now with sociopath, psychopath and criminally insane all herded together till they **** again.
Where would we put the lost and forgotten? Disabled deformed and afflicted in ways you can't imagine.
We walk each day in the human Zoo, now two meters apart as we all queue. The thin the obese the tall and the sort all hunting for big roll and pasta too hoard. But while you stand just look around, for the next Jeffrey Dahmer could be two meters behind!
I walked the dog the other night as the twilight flickered and I watched the mosquitoes get ever lower in groups in acrobatics and aerobatics below the tree line like starlings swarm but not as pretty and no one likes them in country or city as they breed in pools and hunt at night and bite and infect and cause nothing but strife in their short and heady airborne life and now after admiring their ariel dance one ******* took a vampire stance and sunk it's mouth into my cheek and left a bite thats red and angry and ******* me off because in twighlight I walked my dog.
I'm past it now
I'm over the top
Just waiting for things to start falling off
More grey than brown
More wrinkles each day
I wasn't expecting to be this way
Cholesterol high and diet low
Statins to stop you from having a stroke
I thought I'd be watching the seasons pass in the arms of a traveler who walked my path
If it's three score and ten then i'm in the last quater and it ain't golden years as the magazine's sold you
A tablet for this and another for that and one for the side effects if your still using that!
So go make mistakes
That's the advice as now I'm old
The view from down the rabbit hole
They say life is a series of moments. Some pivotal some fleeting. The fear in a childs eyes, the despair in the dying, the hope in a birth.
But those moments may happen decades apart. The irony is a single event can play them back all in parallel, simultaneously in a nano second, like a high voltage shock, triggered by anything. Something as simple as looking in a mirror or the sound of a childs cry. Thus it is little wonder sometimes people can just overload and snap. Fall into that mirror, that eternally looped moment. More disrurbing is you may be the trigger, or the stop by a simple word or action.
Two flat tyres and the batterys goosed so our google celebrity is stuck in her roost.
It's that or hike like a pack horse to Tesco.
But her Jimmy Choos wouldn't survive the hill and the neighbours would wonder who's she going to see.
For the lockdown blues have hit home and the BMW is closer to sold!
Of all the times it chose to fail, it picked when a virus had taken over the world!
But all's not lost, Madame has a plan!
For she knows of a baldy man.
Well he had hair once and shaved it off. Not his best move if we're honest.
But still he came and she hid from afar as he gave her tyres some much needed air.
It was all so quick the neighbours missed it, even the twitcher in number six.
Her tyres inflated, she's had a jump, not that kind, her battery was f#####.
So doors all locked and best foot forward, to be fair she was feeling awkward. He wasn't a knight and had no horse and his volvo looked like it had been in the wars.
She braced herself and jumped in the car and off she shot to the local shops.
A perfect end to the oddest of days with a car full of shopping and the wind in her hair.
A rare thing for me to invite them.
A guest I seldom see.
But after today I needed them and they me.
We started of quite quickly.
Then settled to a pace.
Now all that's left.
Are the remains of the day.
Bushmills Irish Whiskey
I closed my eyes tight to see if I could remember your face.
To try and remember a face I may never have ever seen, or am yet too see.
All I saw was millions of lights as though racing through my thoughts, traversing the universe at light speed on a journey within my consciousness.
I was once told I would meet my soul mate.
We all do.
But you may not know it's them. For your paths may cross at the wrong time or maybe in another life past, or to come.
I often pondered that.
Now as I race through the universe I find I have no soul.
Oh I have compassion and empathy and I have known love in many ways.
I feel sometimes more than I should, often, not enough.
But a soul?
No, to know you have a soul it has to be touched, or torn from you by another, or if they are indeed your soul mate shown to you.
The others are not the lights I seek, they are but the darkness collecting others very essence or to revive or feed their own.
So I close my eyes.
I hope not for the last time.
As tonight I continue my journey.
Will they join me?
Only they know.
Stay in they said just don't go out, for a killer lurks all around.
It has no hood no knife or gun, it cares not if you are all alone.
It sticks to things then sticks to you with an oily touch its entered too.
You weren't held up or abused, because your clothes flattered you.
This was different you couldn't see the abuser entered you unseen.
You simply got to close to another, the killer now made you its host.
At first the damage may not show as the killer divides inside and grows.
You may shake it off and never know, yet **** the ones you love at home.
For this killer can't do it all alone, it needs conspirators to plan it's roam.
Like a hitcher it needs a ride, but can't if you just stay inside.
No host and like a stranded soul on a desert island it will die alone.
So wash your hands, Stay at home don't be a killer on the roads.
Walk the dog on your own, and keep your kids busy at home.
Who knows you may be the one, this silent killer....makes their own.
Some days I get so wrapped up in the spiral of all I can't fathom or fix, I am simply lost. On auto pilot and no destination. The crew deserted and the fuel so low the engines failing. One day that will be too much. But we keep crash landing and walking away looking unharmed.
Looks are deceiving.
Oh we have danced in the discotech with partners of all nations when after liberation we all danced to the songs of liberty. Under all our flags united. As time went by we stopped dancing and others came With new music and one flag. But like mods and rockers they could not dance together and fought away from the sound of the music. Now the only tunes played are national anthems as rebel rousers for dancers, who don't dance and don't know the words to the songs. Cries of patriotism yet dressed as nationalists.
Calls to arms were peace held a fragile embrace like the elderly tangoing.
Now the new dancers don't dance. They sit on the edges of the room causing fights.
Soon the discotech will bar our entry and then when others are barred too, Groups and gangs will form and fighting begin again, like the days before the discotech.
Who will be the bouncers this time.