To the mourning star of sorrow ,
inside the curtains drawn inside ,
a herse pulls up to weeping the young mans life now in a casket lay ,
With cobwebs to cover his head ,
for now he is dead .

Once bright lights  of stardom with Limosens await ,
starlights fame ,
a spotlight that one day grew dim .For now  death and Christ await ..,
For to much liquor and money ,
to many ladies and ***** ,
and the gypsy he sang captivated my love of solitude .

A ghost book from my grans book case ,
tales of 20,000 leagues under the sea ,
the skull ,
It’s pages I turned what fantasy in this old book I learned .
and so to the gypsy with grinding tale of whips and shacks ,
and a poor boys love for that gypsy girl .

Even now unto this day they play this song it won’t go away ,
In Shepherd’s Bush s music halls to two thousand expecting hordes ,
that song lives ever on .

So what is love only that it must be perused ,
or our lives become catacombs,
and our hearts encased in tombs . .
Our 20,000. Leagues we fall ,
deeper and deeper where there is no love at all ,
just a skull on a shelf to watch it all .
Then save your love for pettles and flowers for above all these things
Gods love towers ,
Wrapped up in Mary’s arms ,
Lies Gods gift of love to man ,
a spralling baby who’s arms stretched out in love ,
this infant child covered in blood it cries .
Like every other in Linon cloth lay ,
that stars and Kings adore .

Oh the silver ships on plastic oceans ,
Marshmello clouds above garbage tips .
and the smell of acrid sewage pouring into rivers deep in slime and filth .

A  can of tin lies abandoned in the road ,
Cars with petrol heads ,
Children lying in their mothers beds ,
Wheeze as plumes of smog rise above their heads .

Mattresses dumped on public land ,
a mother to tired to think ,
Worn out by screaming child who just needs a ***** or a drink ?

And on we go round and round on a merry go round ,
While the earth looks weary on.

And aliens surround us with their knives and mobile phones ,
to scared to walk ,
talk ,
just run .


The hospitals await them still full to the brim with gun law and hate . And on we go ,
to Whales washed up on beaches  
Polar bears drift on sheets of ice,
burning oil fills the sea ,
man lights a cigarette in silence ,
and yes it still bothers me .
Even  so ,


the  earth looks  on in silence .
Turtles and fish eat and die from plastic that swells the Ocean deep .

,Now silence and weeping as floods and bugs enter our summer and winter .
No frost to chill the dawn ,
summer with its beaches full of idol sun lovers who left bags and cans now where have they gone ?
Not to the sea ,
for it is empty ,
not to buy for the shops have all closed .
To their beds they lay dying ,
as the earth looks ever on .
Then with candy floss dreams ,
and fair ground rides stop and sick and ***** we fall ,
One baby ,
One gift was born to save us all .

My ship will flounder on my voyage ,
although it has no sails just tyranny.
as death awaits for me .
And all around is land and no sea ,
except for the reeds that call out for me .
and slowly she moves past shallow wave ,
with one faulse move sent us to our graves .

A space ship hovers above my ship a white saucer without a sound .
Then two creatures that look like men ,
Yet tall and menacing and huge in frame .
all white with darkened brow .
Now I’m in my bed and attacked by something alone I dread .
And so this ends the night ,
and two am strikes i know not how ,
another nightmare awaits somehow ?
and dream a while ,
for sleep awaits the dawn ,
and dreams our fears await .
So sweet dreams tonight you lay ,
for the candy mans never far away ,
on ships to foreign lands .

A child found a book of war ,from hay where her mother and father lay dying .
From page to page she turned ,
each page of sage dripped in blood and gore .
Each page spoke of vengeance’s sharped sword ,
each page of sorrow and death ,
each page of sabered ****** hand .
Call of tyrants from mountains came to fight forever in Odin halls ..
The weavers witch spinned and cut the thread and cursed the land .
and goblets of blood of man slept till nevermore .
Spin spin tales of woe ,
Spin spin the weavers go and blood and goblits forever until
the curse is broken .

Gods poets spoke of love and peace to take the darkness that stalked
the land one bright light to guide them,
so even God in his mighty love might not judge them .

Spin the thread the tales of woe ,
Spin the weavers gold and blood ,


and goblits until the curse is broken .

And the fires burnt and furnise fired for shells of war,
that fed the cannon and muskit .
For King and country ,
For Cromwell’s army ,
to over throw the country .

Spin the thread the tales of woe ,
Spin the weavers gold and blood ,
and goblits ,
until the curse is broken .



Two lovers with beating hearts ,
one left for King and Country.
He looked
into her eyes ,
“;don’t be sad when I have gone for you’re sadness forever take you .

Then over the top to the four winds blown   ,
over the top for King and country .

.” So weep beside the willow tree ,
     for letters of love for me .
For where flowers grow our hearts will go ,
See the flowers they grow
beside you .
and though the trench in death you lay my heart will forever find you for  a telegram man arrived today as i was picking flowers .

The girl closed the book and placed a flower in ,
then danced around a young willow tree for now the curse was broken .

Dance around the willow tree ,
plant a flower of love for me ,
for now the curse is broken.

Afterwards  the fighting has stopped ,
afterwards   the. child   starts crying .
It’s so lonely out there I can feel the rain ,
why do you act so vanity fair ?

I stand on a mountain ,
I stood on a hill ,
but even the Napolionics dark clouds of war had nothing on this .

the sheep that were grazing have fled in it’s gaze ,
and even though my cloak wrapped around me from the chill of the night .
I saw from the north did asail the wind darkness like no other ,
as I felt my bones rattle and shake under my skin .
How i wanted to take hold of my mistress summer and bask in her
warmth for just one more night .
She left without a word nor did her lips empress upon mine ,
nor the soft comforts of late evenings did she impress upon my cheek .
Now I await in trepidation and much distress her sister,
this dark woman of whome pestilence awaits ,
and where storm clouds gather .
This cold wind she sends an advent for what is to come .
Hail snow and rain nothing is like these in her sight .
Don’t look into her eyes ,
the man who peddles time cast under her spell and now he stands alone as time stands still .





Look a white dove how it ***** it’s wings against her blackened skies ,.

for  in its beak lies a fig ,
and on it’s wings Gods eternal promise,.
herolds the dawn .

How I yearn for a warm bed and a clock to while away this hour .
A dream catcher ,
A shape shifter ,
a net above my head ( to catch these things )
and above all ,
bed .
Pray these things don’t steal the light ,
for my eyes to open and see the mornings sun ...
just once more .

How cold now Autumn has arrived who’s stare is still and full of lies
Who’s smile is hollow and masks his face which once was full of love
and grace .
Now Autumns chill has taken his frown and some sad clowns turned it upside down .
Now in his dreams he won’t awake and if he does his life might take.?
There’s nothing left but open doors and rooms so familiar yet never
seen before .
That house when you were a child seemed so small ,
now you walk in corridors never seen before .
Coffee cups biscuits and cake all sat around tables and chairs .Napkins  folded with scowls and grins and awful things .

With acid frowns we stand around and hope one day like NorseViking gods  sail to greener shores and plunder gold behind bolted doors .
As if Mercury has an iron core and either side hides love and war ?
As if water flowed from either side and my heart could draw from
evening tide their echoes live ever on .
And God in his splendid rise banish all these godless lies ,
and i might dream of love again.
Recite Byron , Poe and Keats  to all my friends ,
in gardens with band stands ,
and tea served out of China pots into china cups and saucers .



  So to the one who keeps my heart in a locket on her breast ,
her words I sing when the black ravens call ,
and holds my heart in jest . .
and Autums leaves must they fall it is love that binds them all .