A man walked into town ,
his clothes were ***** his breath stank of *****,
he hadn’t washed in days ,
and he took his rest under a  sleepy shade ,
beneath a sleeping moon .

No one bothered him except for one lad ,
What’s you’re name mr “ said the boy ,
who  never went back .
Then the man stretched out his arm ,
and in his coat drew a Bible in his hand ,
and gave the lad a quote .

“ judge thee not or he cast the first stone “
   It’s been a long time since I left home .

you see my woman left me so I took to the drink ,
i at first didn’t know what to think .
You see she gave me a bone ,
when all I craved was her love ,
then she went to church,
well heaven above !

So I took the car untill it ran out of gas ,
for that light in my flame was not from heaven above .

Now i loved that dear woman  straight from my heart ,
but the  meat from that bone was full of gristle and grit ,
and no man should ever have to settle for a piece of it .
That’s why I’m here at the end of you’re street ,
a most heart breaking story you are ever likely to meet .

So the gristle and bone of this story be ,
Leave your heart in heaven ,
and don’t bother me .

A new day ,
a poets dream ,
of poetry yet unseen ,
for without a new day ,
there would be no dreams .
For three years ago a paper died ,
and my poems were born out of such misery came .

If love was just a butterfly upon a summers day ,
dancing above daffodils then flying far away .
For if love could be a stolen locket ,
taken from a tower ,
with a picture of her lover ,
dancing before a flower ?
But if love is none of these ,
and does not waver ,
and does not flint ,
but shows its many colours in O so many ways ,
in roses and violets and O so many other dainty things
we could love all our days ?
Then let it be like the morning ,
that hope we have each day ,
as rays of light come calling
to brighten up our day.

Because that is what my sister is ,
always thoughtful and serene ,
a lady of many colours ,
a spectrum of crystal beams.
looking out into the sunlight ,
as every morning unfolds.

An all encapsulating flower ,
before it’s petals fall ,
the spraying of salt water ,
against a harbour wall .

A light house to a bird ,
beaten back by the winds entrepid gales ,
but above all a safe harbour when all else begins to fail .

Today is a great day ,
A new day ,
as if the old one didn't. matter .?
Tim Peakes. Picture as the earth set over the sun .
My song of hope ,
To teachers sat cheating scandal  ,
a new day would be cut short only for a new one to begin .
' Thank you for a better read if only for a little while '
But if good things must end for poetry to begin ,
And a new day dawns with Tim Peakes sun rises over this earth ,
Then a new sun must rise over thick dense cloud ,
Of waterless  tears ,
And poets dance ,  
and crows  Sing ,
and the weary traveller never rest his head ,

For twilight. Is near ,
Is ever present  ,
And he who slumbers shall never find rest .
And to fail is to never try ,
To live is to never die ,
As Lucy stood tall to **** **** a girl guides pride and joy ,
Dare mighty things ,
Failure is not an option ,
And thirty five poems on ,
Still going strong ,  
Because of new day ,
I can gladly say ,
Happy Birthday to Phil
The poet X.

A young girl got out of bed ,
It was cold and dark outside .
The rains pattered on her window frame ,
so hard it made her cry another wasted harvest
as the years have gone by .

But she just knelt and quietly prayed to her Father up above for ,
Just for enough food to eat from Gods heavenly store of love .

And so with many others waited for that harvester to call ,
went to sing their hearts out at the church their and local hall .

Filled with stacks of hay on either side and saw dust on the floor ,
for each year the rains came .


And each year wheat and corn grew out in the furthest field of all .
where the sun shone ,
then rained ,
Just enough to harvest every one .

Each year first the aha of golden corn ,
each year a grain of wheat
Each year Gods provisions grew so the town could eat .

Each. year  a  hearty song was sung ,
by each and every one .
The wheat and corn were then brought into that Church ,
Untill the summer came along .
filled with love and happiness each golden corn of grain .

Then sow the winds where devils knock on barn doors ,
where demons prowl ,
Yet every night ,
a little girls prayers they never bark too loud

Would could I exchange a peach for my heart fair lady ?
For both are juicy and picked today ?
My heart beats and my peach is ripe and tender is it not
You would tell me ?
Of all the grocers fruit I could have picked did I choose at least one for you no fly had landed just for one second ?
As for my heart did I not rip it out of my chest and serve it to you
rich in the finest Claret  
likened only to a plum ?


Do you remember the warm ,
Beating ***** I gave you when we first met ?
How  it dripped with my blood ,
and you gathered it to your breast.  and said “ now you are mine “

I died that day ,
If I could have given you my lungs I could have told you !
and my ears so you might have listened ?
How  I wished you had ears to hear ?

Please if you read this come quick for I am alone sweeping up in
The potters room for what we tried to Mould  ,
together was always you’re Moore to my Swayze ,
now a ghost to our dreams shattered into a thousand pieces .
Yet if you just say the word ,
just pick up one piece could we not start again ?

Then meet me at the grocer , plum , pear , heart ?

I returned home from work one day ,
went to bed and here I lay ,
in my own room without a friend ,
to say good night ,
when will it ever end ?
And so to the bad ,
the great and the good ,

the whispering of the years ,
the misunderstood .
For the black bird still sings it’s merry tunes before dawn,
as i lie alone in my bed ,
thankful for all the years ..
They captivate me still ,
the snow drop yet to bud ,
the red ant who keeps a home for the stomaphis beneath the bark of an old oak tree ,
as my saviour keeps a place for me .
No woman have I held dear ,
her gentle touch when death is near ,
no whispers in my ear .

But I have seen luminous lights light up the beach as if it were day ,
and monsters of iron ,
giving out their steam ,
acuducts and tunnels built by mans own dream ,
Yet I have lived and has it not been grand ?

Still pity the man who has no hope ,
nothing to cling to when life becomes a joke ,
Who works and dies to what a cost ,
he has never seen Gods promises ,
and it is in them do I have my hope ..

Her black wings of sorrow started to sprout from the muscles on her back ,
all laden with their sorrow
for she cant find a way back
The sins  of those who taunt her ,
with their loveless evil ways
for on this dark and terrible night .,
It feels they will stay with her always ?
For heavenly sorrow is her name ,
for she weeps for those who only have themselves to blame ..

So terrible are her sufferings she can bear their guilt no more ,
alone she now lies dying for she can’t find a cure .

For The black raven is her judgement ,
he holds a Sceptre  in his beak ,
above there lies an Angel ,
that once God turned to stone .
Who  once led the heavenly choirs ,
Whome. God banished from his heavenly throne .

For it is with black wings she sings ,
but never speaks .
“ soon you’re judgement will be O
It won’t take very long
and  no words will you speak ,
for now worms will crawl
from out of your belly
and come out of you’re beak !




So can anything now save her from this dark and
terrible fate ?

Then flew in a sparrow who saw watching from afar ,
said “:I will take your fallen wings and hang  them on a star .”

And the raven and the angel with black wings flew away ,
they  fled unto the tower ,
and had nothing more to say .

And the girl still goes horse riding ,
where the angel and raven fled ,
and looks up. longingly  to a loop hole
Just to make sure that bird is being fed .

     “ But I want to talk to you of things that are immortal ,
        and things that are free ,
          so as you hanker over your sin and sorrow
        don’t you ever bother me “
         said the sparrow ,
          who was chirping from a tree .

She hid herself from my sight ,
Of which i could not embrace ,
the beauty of her loving touch .

The crystal waters of the seas ,
reflected gently on her breeze ,
all of which were not mine ,
but borrowed from her wings of time .

Yet before do I now tremble in fear ,
for the crystal waters becon me near ,
never to look upon her face stretching out towards the mountains .


There the shallows of dark waters where ,
caught like moonlight in the air ,
she pulled me under ,
Without a care ,
as if I would ever follow her there ?


And there she stood in crystal white ,
her eyes beamed ,
though they hid not light,
and I was able to see her face ,
it shone as if it were white .
My lungs were full ,
I could not breath ,
and slowly ,
slowly ,
I sank to my knees ,
then .
All  went black ,
Indeed .

Light filled my blackened gaze ,
all was lost
untill I heard her say ,
‘ take my hand ‘ .
and so light entered by moonlight ,
my soul I surrendered to thee .

This grave is now all I have of you ,
In silence and grief I think of you .
Where once our dreams they all came true ,
for now in death you depart .

A shallow pale leaves no earthly light ,
but for now at least you are shining bright ,
with God and his Angels and all that is true ,
so here is a rose I have picked for you .

It is a rose that grew out of soil ,
that once was crushed between the garlic and the clove that ,
you planted one day ,
you’re hands hid dirt ,
you’re hands a blood red ,
a love in you’re heart ,
for the wounds that we met .

For our love was like that flower deeply  embedded ,
then entwined ,
in my soul a ***** love not pure and kind ,
but the kind that lasted through so such turbulent times .

It was a kind of love that cut so deep ,
as that Thorne that made you’re bitter  hands weep .

But we watched it grow so tall and free ,
It’s scent as radiant as you’re love for me .

So I pulled it up and now I give it back to you ,
for you to be reminded  now you are dead ,
that thorns grow even now ,
all blooded and red .

A  widow sits on her stoney throne ,
a solitary figure she calls her home .

For  the court she keeps are of one ,
and her sorrow weeps in the cold stone walls that she has become .

For cold is the night as the snow slowly falls ,
a sniffle to  wipe as she powders her nose .

Pale her complexion as white as a stone ,
for her lips are as red as the rose that she holds.

For no one stands near for she sits there alone ,
and cold is the palace she now calls home .

So after days with one flower she sat ,
I opened her carriage ,
there alone with her cat .


A crack of the whip ,
and off we sped ,
for her to sleep under trees ,
for what she called a bed .

To watch one flower grow under the sweet springs rain ,

to remind her of the joys he brought,
her lover ,
and beloved king ,
under the pouring rain .

Her wings hung restless against the open shaw,
how she needed love like she did before ,
yet the evil knight with temprance went  followed her forever .

There was no cliff that she could hide ,
for her wings grew weary against the tide ,
the battering winds that were her guide ,
the evil knight that stalked her .

O help,me please “ said she but the geece flew south their flock forever honking  ,
"We cant help you we have to fly to feed our chicks or mate or die ,
and you have been left alone said I .
alas we cannot help ya ."

So she asked the winds to help her fly ,
against the bird that sort her ,
they lifter her up way on high above her evil stalker .



And so the evil knight that masked his wings
hid crafty thoughts above all things ,
but he somehow failed to find her.

“ There you are home at last ,”
said the wind that hid the blast ,
then softly died ,
and left her .

And as the rock which hid all things ,
in its cracks
her dainty wings
he hid them all her precious things
their mouths forever open ,
and so death became her daughter ,
and waited until she was alone ,
to stalk her .

sadly this is a grim tale of old ,
I am unable to log in from my I pad
( error 522
dare my poems grow cold .
By these means thus i write thee,
from a twinkling of my eye  ,
no alas it is from my mobile ,
as the months go on slowly by .

So hp I beseech thee bring back
my harp of gold  ,
give access to my I pad ,
alas the traveller should be locked,
forever in this mobile  ,
the land which time forgot.

How dark is the sun when you hide you’re smile ,
and the leaves have turned yellow ,
and fall in you’re path as you walk on by .
The  grave yard stones have all shifted not to get in you’re way ,
for even they have seen a happier day .

The seas are all angry their boats tossed like toys ,
Persidens. arms are lifted as a child in his bath tub ,
finds soap in his eyes .

My heart trembles within me and seeks only rest ,
as dark clouds gather and rain falls on you’re breast .

Even the stars i named when the clouds had all gone ,
have left the heavens ,
for even they know something is wrong .
  For even King Johns smile when counting his gold ,
has nothing to you’re frown when all is told !

But when you smile ,
like crimson the stars ,
the sun beams out on sunflower meadows and brings light to you’re
charms .
The trees find their colours all green not turning red ,
and the grave yards lay empty as no one lies dead .
The seas are as quiet as a mill pond in spring ,
for no one has ever seen such a daintier thing .
And my heart now rejoices for you’re tears have all gone .
How lovely the millar who burst out in song .

And yes I still love you what ever you’re refrain ,
and if that grave yard should ever find a happier soul ,
I would gladly join you ,
so you will never feel old again .

I. awoke  to silence  at. 2. In the morning ,
no banging of car doors ,
no. Thud , thud , thud , sweek BANG !
        thud. Thud  thud. Sweek BANG  !
          Thud. Thud. Thud. Squeak BANG !
Chatty neighbors. back from the theatre , or a meal in town .
at. 2 in the morning .
Not even to the sound of friends late night party , chatting over a few drinks in a nearby. Garden , at 2 in the morning .
Or Lovers fighting , broken glasses , pots and pans and crazy plans .
Or lovers making out between the sheets of wild intent .
to disturb me at two in the morning .
There was no tap , tap , tap ,      Tap , of a. dripping tap
Or humming fridge
To disturb me at 2 in the morning .
No mouse  to come in from the rain which pelted against my window pain ,
and scared Mrs Hubbard  who was found in my cupboard ,
Afraid of the big fat spider who happened to see the fly , who just passed by ,
and in the wink of an eye found a web , and a meal for the spider who had waited so long
beside her.
Not forgetting the wasp in the sock , which stung my poor foot , as  I got dressed in the morning .
Not the ticking of a clock could be heard , nothing ,
Until I slept ,
and dreamt a while ,
And dawn would break , to bird song ,
and a new day
at two am in the morning .

I. awoke at three in the morning to the sound of Elephants of the Serongetti up and down my stairs ,
Thud
         Thud
                    Thud
                             They left a thud that went straight through me.
Then trumpet sound of slamming doors and endless chatter that somehow just didn't matter ,
at 3 am in the morning .
Outside fireworks were set off a crackle to the heavens , beneath the billions of stars
Our sun bringing light to this cradle of satan , once loved God , God had lovingly hung in the heavens.
Beyond that  the Milky Way a little girl picks up from the table , starts to tear its wrapper ,
'. No dear not before lunch '. Said Mother , the little girl looked perplexed and returned
It to the table .
A potter hangs his earthenware ceramic ball Of clay amugst the stars and weeps at how
Sad it has become , compared. to all the other bright stars and. Galaxy's he has made.
All. The Rivers , and Sky's  , all the unborn babies. Cries .
Like shifting sand the land has become dammed ,
One Cross of Roman wood ,
One hope ,
A line of Jessie ,
Crushed ,
Like a rose to rise again .
One plan , for man ,
On Savior to walk this earth .

An Acrid smell of nicotine from my neighbors flat below ,
Stale and pungent , it hung in the air , and lingered like an Angel of death above my bed ,
And Mrs Hubbard who came out of my cupboard , with a broom she had found on the
Moon  chased the mouse out of my house ,
In the light of the moon , a. Fly passed by , who wasn't taken in by the spider beside her.
And the lovers who had pots and pans and crazy plans ,found love
Over coffee and tea , and sympathy ,
Cuddled in bed .
And as dawn awoke , to bird song ,
a single prayer was heard ,
That man should know Gods Glory
amugst the singing of the birds

If I  ,
am left alone with the noon days sun and see it rise at dawn and feel
no need to shelter from it’s rays what kind of a fool am I ?
If not for one m this flower has taken water it must.    
surely die ?
Now my coach awaits ,
excuse me gentlemen.
,
How  dark it’s interior ,
I had not noticed before
It is my loneliness that stands before me  ,
the pitch black likened to a stranger who never leaves .
The horses driven by a whip sends them to corners of my mind I have yet to see .

A *** boils over ,
Why I let it simmer ?

To many secrets ,
To many lies in this harbour of fear ?

Look my ship is about to sail ,
It’s masts high to strike the wind ,
Yet in truth it sailed many years ago ,

How I did not notice ?
If I touch ?
and touch you again why do I feel the very need ?
It has to be perfect ,
Yes or no peace will come ,
Will ever come ? .

Don’t go ,
Please don’t leave we have yet to hold hands and see the suns colours paint the sky’s in finest oil ,
Don’t go .
I’m alone even the flys found more company than my solitude .?

And sunken rays that hide my clouds of darkness finds a candle
to you,r all but flickering love .

If I were a poet I would walk in fields of green ,
hand in hand with my fair maiden. amugst
Crows I had not yet seen .
If I were a poet  by pillow sky's of blue ,
You would walk beside me hand in hand ,
by a pebbled running stream ,
and as dawn broke walk barefoot along side hills I'd never been ,.
Then the bright morning star would be on some distant planet far away ,
Unable to temp ,
and take this blessed peace away .
For as Christ in all his glory Witnissed  Satan fall like a bolt out
Of a firmament so poetic only a canvas on grey and black would do .




As if poetry were like apples only a red or green to pick ,
Ripe and juicy ,
Yet rotten and so sweet .
.
with tables set before me one with a bowl of fruit below ******
Sky ,
the other bread and wine  set before me under this benevalant Welkin vault .
One of poison ,
One of love ,
And so to grey sky's  and bitter winds I awake ,
under black ice I fall ,
But this way may not be paved with gold ,
Or ladies sweet perfume ,
But poetry and Gods wisdom in Jesus love on a cold Autumble afternoon ..

I. have no friends ,
Just  hi , goodbye ,
and others who just won't. Leave me .
That's Bob , must dash ,
Must run , been fun ,
Just say you'll never leave me .
A sudden hi , a last good cry ,
a coffee cup , full of good intentions .
I'm glad you came , come in from the rain ,
Take my hand and smile ,
Stay a while
and say goodbye , just
don't  close the door and leave me .

There are times when all we can see is just before our eyes ,
of skin and flesh and bone ,

our constant need of care . .
Of food and wealth to feed our needs ,
to build our happy homes
But Gods plan is of immortal things ,
of love and truth and grace ,
For these  are things we cannot see ,
and yet are hid before our eyes
The hardship of a life well spent ,
not counting down the years ,
and knowing that in spite of this ,
Gods love and constant care .

A noring pain ,
I know so well between my tooth and gum,
did flossing try and many pills to quench this pain did I .
So off I went to see a man in white coat and kindly smile ,
to sit down in my dentists chair to relax and watch the world go by .
" it will have. to come out that there is no doubt the nice man said with a grin .
The sergeon s here have no fear open wide so I can begin .
Now pull he said to his assistant nurse this won't take long at all ,
It's a sergical procedure .
Now spit and swill here's some wool this won't take very long ,
There's a good boy your doing well it's out now ,
all wrapped up in a commemorative box for your mantelpiece above
the fire ,"
" Oh thanks " I said between my gum so raw it should be on a slab .
So home I went all wrapped in cotton wool ,
with blood pouring down ,
and cotton wool biting down such a brave boy I know .

Two days in bed how long I've spent. With a straw and soup and
day time tv ,
It's a sergical procedure they said boy did those words comfort me .
Still I bite  with all my might and tablets and straws at hand ,
Then one day the pain did go no more soup straw and pills ,
Be kind to your dentist ,
Just sit back and relax and open wide next time the dentist shall call

The hosts of God in their heavenly gaze ,
look forever down on Gods earthly parade ,
of expectant souls so close ,
so dear await their heavenly bodies ....

For it was into life you bore me ,
Into earths sun you draw me ,
ever to you’re gardens of delight.

For it was in the gardens of pleasure we roamed ,
amid the Crystal fountains and pillars of marbel and gold .

You gave me love ,
you gave me light ,
You gave me every pleasure my heart could hold ,

warm was the day ,
cool was the night ,
yet you’re simple pleasures were too much for me to behold .

For I cried out for the cool of the night in the heat of the day ,
yet craved for the warmth of the sun ,
when the moon went away .

So like Satan I fell on insergent wings took flight ,
down down I fell much to Satan’s pure delight,
further and further away from the sun ,
to the dust of the earth .
My insurgent wings that once gave flight ,
are now my only shelter to the beating rains ,
on this God forsaken night .


The only food I have found ,
are the bones of man left in this hole in the ground ,
for there are creatures here bereft of skin ,
for here lies the remains of every man here within .

There is no light ,
no love just fear ,
for I have no idea what has happened here ?
Here i am hungry,
naked and cold
In the light of the sun my dreams have turned old .

Then a light from the sun I saw from afar ,
It’s beam ,
brought warmth to my skin ,
gave flesh to my bones ,
and on the wings of Christ Jesus alone ,
brought me back home ,
as love and light took to flight ,
Light and love went home .

Did I tell you that once I heard a blackbird sing ?
for it had in its beak a golden ring .
And upon that ring there lay a crown inlaid with rubies and emeralds all around .
And apron that crown I placed upon you’re head was all the words
I wish i hadn’t said .
For love is so full of hurtful things ,
that dig into you’re heart like diamond rings .

O I once heard a blackbird sing ,
It sang to me about all those troubling things .
that made you cry ,
and made you mad ,
yet you were the most precious gift I ever had .

And that golden ring you wore that blackbird had upon his claw ,
was tinged with sadness like it was before .
for love with all its sins to bear ,
it’s rugged cross ,
It’s nails of steel .

So if we hold each other tight ,
the dreams we held each single night ,
as we kissed and said good night ,
our hopes that love could never die .

And as morning broke a blackbird sang ,
It sang of all the joys and tears we held in our hearts for many years ,
and we just sat there and filled with sorrow ,
for the joys and pains of our tomorrows .
The poets words they flew away ,
as we thanked the Lord for another day.
And the rose bush that bore the scars ,
that held the ring ,
and the rugged crown,
a blackbird perched on it for a while ,
then flew away ,
and made you smile.

I once knew a poet a long time ago ,
her words were of silent thoughts ,
even though she would not tell me so.

But her love for me was kindly that none should walk away,
or at least that’s what I thought at least unto this day .

But if words were like ships that sail out to sea ,
far away to paradise would that even  bother me ?
So  if dreams of paradise is how I think of you ,
then every word written ,
I would bestow  unto you .

But if words could send me to paradise and every thought came true ,
then why are we on different ships with storm clouds O and not blue ?

I picked a rose bud for you ,
I found it on a rose bed ,
it is not dead .
But  if you water it ,
and give it room to grow ,
it will blosom into something you don’t know .
For its buds will one day open ,
perhaps when you are curled up in bed ,
and you will think of me when I have gone ,
and all the things I said .

Is this war that  nation should rise against nation for one plot of
Land ?
Or demons should call on man from Satans rebelius throne
and temp the lonely in solitude to such ,
and for man to call on Gods holy army's to unite against
this sin ,
Flesh ,
and the devil ?
Or is it two lovers who go to war ,
with a ring and a kiss ,
and dreams of Marrage ,
Only for him to be blown sky high ,
and their hearts and ***** embrace no more .
In Afganistan ,
the taliban ,
An open grave ,
For what ?
A holy war ,
A misguided evil ,
A sack cloth of sin .
For just as two little boys with only one toy ,
Should sqobble and fight and cry ,
a dark truth must remain ,
That man is flawed ,
and prone to evil so cancarus. the sin .

For just as moon shine is its glory ,
Hell awaits .

For just as guns are for killing ,
A widow waits ,

And for every shelling and morta bomb ,
a church bell tolls .

But the fig tree shall bloom in summer  
and seas crash upon its shore ,
And men shall return from fighting ,
Pick up their guns no more ,
And lovers walk hand in hand on sandy beach and shale .
Not a bitter word between them ,
Draw love hearts in the sand .

They stand outside Costa coffee shops ,
and line the street with coffees in hand  
one a year to marching band ,
this proud land ,
With wreath to place to mark the place ,
Where an Angel was carved in stone .
From blood red fields to Ashfords greens ,
a village with cart and horse ,
And three churches built to honor God that still cry out for thee .
As time has passed not much has changed ,
We still remember our dead ,
With marching bands ,
and silence .

The phones stopped ringing ,
my mobiles run out of bat ,
and the clock keeps ticking,
tick tick tick Tok .
and as I pull the covers more hours slip away .

The rain won’t stop falling and the winds blowing a gale ,
as I head out to the churches with porch lights ablaze ,

There’s a choir down town ,
its time to come shine ,
for now it’s time to come and sing !

The  lights are all a blazing the trumpets are on tune ,
and the rain just keeps on falling on this sunny afternoon.

Yet all  I’m wishing is all I want ,
and there are beautiful heavenly voices coming from the front .
I’m just standing there with tears in my eyes with ,
mince  pies and samosas cups of coffee and cake ,

and they are all busy chatting so full of love and grace .

The Christmas tree with it’s pritty lights behind the pull pit lies ,
with happy faces all around it handing out samosas and mince pies ,

The doors closes and the roads are all quiet ,
the clock keeps on ticking in my room ,
I turn over ,
Put out my light and all there is ,
Is you

I. Used to know you well ,
We used to cook fish by the sea .,
and chat ,
and laugh for what seemed like hours .
Breakfast as the sun rose ,
the waves crashed ,
   upon the shore until they could be heard no more .
My words just resemble puff clouds now that just sail by ,
and now everything I do just becomes a more
Complicated form of boredom .
Where Sea Eagles made their nests ,
their talons now lie encrust in Neolithic tombs . For,
What follows me at night ,
Keeps its distance at dawn .
My metal gods goad me to become God like ,
and spit in my face when aragance calls .
For in thirty thousand years when I. am dust
And Archeolagists turn me into an antiquity ,
Angels will still be singing your praises ,
their joyful  song untold ,
.
How our friends don't listen ,
and the bad shepheard steals
from their love feasts ,
Takes and does not put back .
The Suns setting ,
soon it's light will fade ,
Darkness will encapsulate the Suns Ray's again .
Say a prayer for the dying  ,
Say a prayer for the lost
For in daylight the heart beats
For it's in its light that Christ is found ,
Sleep well my bleeding soul .

I waited for the wretched seas one day to return to me .
Who gave  my love  her resting place .
And so I believed the wretched sea would some day
do the same for me

But whenst it came it came in with a whine ,
and asked me not to waste my time .
And so she left ,
and returned again ,
For she said
“ you’re love is dead ,
  now leave me be ,
  or even you might
  one day
  belong to me ?”             


.

that raging beast that took her life ,
when we were serenading by the banks of the Clyde

A mighty wave took her away ,
for that I am for sure .

And now she asks me ,
Lapping like a dog at her masters feet
When all I wanted  her to do was to  spit and howl .with rage at me .

O cursed sea won’t you please return my love to me



But now You come to me with open arms
For alone I see now,  her footsteps , and her charms ,
dissapearing  into an open grave .
Where not even a shivrless man that was so brave ,
would venture more than his toe to save.
And to wrestle that great beast upon the shore
the likes of which I would see no more .

But out there is where my beloved lies ,
below tranquil seas and dark blue skies
And if I am to see her again ,
Then i must sumon up the gates of hell .
And hense be noted before the brave ,
That in these once troubled waters ,
I did once lend my hand to save .

Then one morning
with a chirping of the birds ,
a body of a young girl once bound to the sea ,
was Surrendered and given back to me .

But I For one was never found ,
Thou in the winds and rains my voice
Can still be found .

Jack Rann was a simple man ,
as the rich got richer he found a simple plan .
To bleed money from the rich the best he could

In the market place a pick pocket be ,
but even that wasn’t enough for he.
For the wealthy walked by with their heads in the air ,
they didn’t look down ,
and never saw him there .

So to the stage coach he rode both  day and night ,
with hardly a wink he rode through the night ,
on hay did he lay with his steed at his side .

All the money his clients spent on good food every night ,
and where did he lay his head ?
by his horse by his bed .

Each night he heard them in laughter and joke ,
drinking and singing telling a ***** joke !

All that money did he watch going from hand to fist ,
and he had it not ,
not a dime not a stitch .

So to his faithful horse he took ,
Jack the nine tails around his silk breeches .

rode this land with a grin and a smile ,
a pistol and a cunning plan to charm the ladies and gentleman of
their wealth as they passed by ,
was Jack the nine tales scoundrel .


Then one day to such bad luck ,
the Duke was like a sitting duck .

In chains he faced the gallows there ,
the flowers he wore  when he was there ,
around his silk breeches .
Jiggled a jig as the noose pulled tight ,
at tyburn the gin ran over that night .

But who could forget this lad with a wink ,
who hung by a noose by the dance of a jig ?
hung at Tyborn tree .

The Jester came to see the King one day ,
“these fools are no good they are full of dancing’.

Then the following day a joker came up to the king ,
“; these fools are no good for they are full of laughing .

And we are no good for we sit and moan for the crown we stole
has been a stolen .
The ring we borrowed ,
the knowledge we shared ,
the love we cherished ,
Is as loose as a hang mans noose .

The jester stands on our walls we built ,
just to tell us we are fools .

The joker on our bed laughs tingles his bells as we lay asleeping .
The minstrels have all but left to go a Caroling ,
the love we cherished lies
as empty as the grains of wheat to sodden to eat ,
to sodden to sell .
Christ’s love hangs in art
ripped flesh a truth of love lost
lies in rock umugst our sands .


We head off to the streets with laughter one foot to the right ,
the other to the left ,
the joker stands in the middle .
One foot to the left ,
then to the right
and we all sing lasciviously ,
as the plagues acoming ,
and we go asinging ,
for its. acarolling time ,

and it dos’nt lead to heaven .

For now the wine tastes sweet ,
and the barrels are dry ,,

our heads are kinda dizzy ,
We ***** and puke ,
then **** and poo as we
hung draw and quarter our souls as O
the boils will rise by the morning. The joker jokes ,
the jester sings ,
and we held hands ,
round and round and round we went
and it did not lead to heaven.

#Gals. Come home my dears come home my loves ,
for we will cook you pottage in the morning
and they didn’t end in heaven.

Men reply and we’ll all be dead by the mor ..ning #

And the boils arrived in the morning
and they didn’t. lead to heaven.

Even though the autumn leaves aren’t far away ,
we live for this most glorious day ,
when the sun though at first wasn’t seen ,
lived apon this happy dream.

Of distant clouds far away ,
and blue skies and sun kissed seas,
for the isle of Delos lies in-front of me .
As I sit upon this boat of mine ,
ravaged by the years of passing time .

The isle where the sun beds down at night ,
to rise in the morning pure as light .

And so you look O hills of green ,
where sheep have grazed and now aren’t seen .
To a yonder star on high ,
filling up the skies. ,
In magnificent colours far and wide .

You stand before an open shore,
watching colours you have never seen before .
Wishing you had someone to hold the,
Reds  and yellows blue and golds ,
fill your eyes when  yesterday all you saw was black.

Still wishing for that someone dear ,
someone to love ,
or just to be near .

It’s five in the morning a July sunrise ,
have you ever seen anything more beautiful,
more serene  before your eyes?
But a July sun is still,
a morning as cold as the coffee you hold ,
and throw out  towards the sea .

Oh this is such a happy morn ,
the grains are ripe and her beauty is bliss ,
for this morning she planted a kiss upon my lips .

O beauty that is as ripe as the day ,
the July morning sun will rise ,
In greatest spender,
before our eyes .

For we shall  lye before it shall appear ,
in fields of sunflowers dancing here .
And you will wear
nothing but a smile ,
for grains were ripened for such a time as this ,
to avail her beauty before my eyes ,
just as the sun is about to rise

Imagine if I was King ?
KinG  of what ?
King of glory and of grace ?
For that would only seal my fate .
King of love or understanding ?
that would only be for the immortals that are above ,
on whispy clouds we cannot see ,
unless we give our hearts to thee !

King of what then you might ask ?
Perhaps I should choose a lowlier task ?

One that no. One would want to seige
King of words that do not rhyme ?
but that would be a waste of time .
A King of Poetry ?
then I could charm all the beautiful ladies with word and deed .
For  that poets would in the night do away with me ,
with cloaks and daggers with which quill and ink spill ,
beneath my feet .
Dead in a pool of ink .

Perhaps a more lowly state ,
where other Kings won’t besiege my walls of fate .
Perhaps a King of fools ,
and diamond rings ,
and knowing what misery brings .
A table for two with Duck and a nice glass of  vinderloo ,
and a ring for you ,
just to see what you would do ? .

Where birds once sang in glorious day ,
the Kings Cavelery have silenced when the red leaves fell .
Build the walls to the March of the drum ,
the King is on the run .
A safe haven with musket ball ,
to fire at parlementarian walls ..

You’re quiet havens shall go up in smoke ,
To garrison call ,
each one and all will turn their backs to the roar of burning timber .
you’re chickens and ducks shall be called to arms in the Kings name ,
  to chicken stew and soup .

You’re seats of learning will become palace grounds ,
and all around disease will abound .
You’re young will die ,
they won’t grow old ,
You’re young men with musket will carry , true and bold .

Build the Garrosen defend the walls ,
a musket ball ,
the fuse is lit ,
past the snake ,
through flesh and bone ,
cartelage and intestine ,
Where only maggots wait ,
to infections grisly bait ,
the musket ball .

Oh the trees without leaves ,
In darkness swayed ,
to the groans of soldiers grisley fate .

The King in cowards ruin fled when the moon was a howlin ,
and darkness creeps it’s blood on Godless men ,
who claim in Gods name an earthly rule .

A severed head on hay ,
to the tower it hung to this day ,
a country in ****** ruin .

My  local Coop is where I shop ,
for Labas Rita’s might or might not be there for me ?
And if she is it’s “ do you have any Kale ,
or tins of tomatoes, mushrooms or soup ?
Her smiling nature ,
her **** smile ,
Is warm in nature before my exterior eye .
Even though this sad tale can only follow as where’s the kale ?
“ Have a nice day “
“;see you soon “
She still drives me Insane ,
there and back to the moon .
“:we have black beans in a tin ,
but not in a sachet,”
so kind and thoughtful were her words one sunny day .

And so as I pack my bags once more it’s “ see you later “
have a nice day “ .
and off I go until the next time ,
It’s Labas Rita’s meets ground hog day .

From worn out sheets and pillow dreams sleep can never hold the dreamer. For
even now the Sun has yet to rise at four in the morning .
the town halls. Clock still shrouded by the absence of light ,
and the rain like pellets brought only a soreness to my eyes ,

yet brought a youthful. exuberance to my legs not felt in months .
For what was once dawn at five in the morn has still to rise in August.
And Wicked. Schemes of medieval dreams of a tyrant King for a loaf of bread a monk and a toad and a goblet of gold could ever keep this ball of fire from rising .
No more than '. Twenty shillings for a loaf of bread for what was once half a penny .
a monk drank to his death of the **** drained from the skin of a toad for many.
andKing would die , but not from its poison .
How Tudor halls when evening falls bolt their doors from it .
It hides the light which once shone bright ,
and pray the sun will rise .
As evil waits outside its gates only theifs and drunkards Persue .
A preachers bench where a dead weight is clenched ,
Gods word from man has no where to hide
as preachers. On Sunday mornings tell ,
Food for the lost at what great cost every soul that listens well .
So as evening shadows draw near .
and cold winds ,
and darker skies. can only beckon .
And evening shadows fall ,
and TV takeaway awaits ,
a light from church's may yet be ready
To. Welcome the weary traveller home .

Our love became unthroned ,
all because of you .
Yes  you the one I hold with all my heart ,
for you didn’t  love what we had  known.

I would chisel out of granite ,
with my bare hands what we had left aside ,
from an apple to a heart ,
and take a peek at what’s inside .

Yet what we had was it for real ,
or built on fibreglass ?
For our train at Canfranc station awaits ,
the last to ever leave ,
the billow of smoke ,
this monster breaths ,
it’s last .
it’s whistle slowly fades ,
the doors are slammed shut ,
the clock still ticks ,
my windows down ,
and my heart is out of luck .

A tear rolls down my cheek ,
it’s choked in soot ,
misunderstood,
my love for you was insane ,
and now you have gone ,
and left me alone ,
with Only love to blame .

You’re casket lies open ,
You’re bones have grown cold ,
In silent whispers the curtain unfolds .

The days of walking with you are now O ,
the evening shadows fade ,
for my days with you are gone now ,
let the yellow daffodils fade .

So soon you were gone ,
left me without care due ,
a broken heart ,
a closing door ,
an empty chair ,
without you .

I still look for you when the starlings nest ,
when busy people come home to rest ,
when the telephone,
just missed a call .

An empty house nights curtain draws ,
When God sprinkled starlight on heavens of old ,
Skewen towns lights shimmered like gold .

For you’re home coming awaits no table or stairs ,
no cups to wash ,
or socks to fold .
Where no child wails for his ma ma in the night .

Palaces of Gold for you my love ,
Heavenly songs of Gods great love ,
and though you lie in casket cold ,
just once more to hold you’re hand ,
for you to say ,
“I loved you so “.

Tonight the evening primrose dies ,
with softer blue and elequent eyes ,
she casts her boat to wider  shores
where she can bathe ,
in lakes as pure .
Where  Lilly white  and Snow White doves ,
bask together  in her lake of purest love .

A place that exsists only in dreams and bygone tales
Where hermits still hide away in caves .
and are never seen except in lillypond dreams of love here and ever after .
A place where only lovers abide ,
and walk hand in hand side by side ,
and talk only in silent whispers to each other
.,

With cherries red such a fruitful bed ,
she picks the fruit in Autumn it is said ,
only to give it to her beloved ,
for she sees a boat  with a flower herein
Where primrose lyes ,
and gently leaves the flower in between her thighs .
And so primrose  opens her eyes ,
as the lovers sail down the river .

And so a tear falls from cicisbeo’s. eyes
for they know not or how or why ,
to comprehend these feelings ?

For a stranger dew ,
hath  fallen .
For a whispy huw of feeling blue ,
has  covered them ,
as falling ash now falls upon the water .

For evening sky’s have now vailed their eyes ,
for  Lilly pond  dreams aren’t always ,happy ever after .

Lost my poem oh what a shame ,
and now it’s time to start again ?
For if you find it sing it a song ,
for what I’m doing won’t take long

A spider now hangs from my wall ,
it bears no malice to me at all .
And if I were to ask if why it was here ?
It would simply reply ,
“:I’m just hanging there “:

But what about that web .? Said i ,
The spider didn’t have a reply .

But later on I spoke to a fly who was watching me eat my lunch ,
from the corner of his eye .

Now i was afraid to ask ,
for nothing seems to ever last .
So I asked the window with the creaky catch ,
was the spider that crawled inside have a ***** look ?.
or was the fly just passing by ?

So when the fly had stopped buzzing about ,
It ate my lunch

and spat it out ,
Then it It turned its attention to the spider on my wall ,
“ won’t you come to my web and we will have a ball ?
“ it said .
which was unusual to say the least for spiders can’t speak ,
or at least that’s what I used to think ?

But then I saw  a startling sight ,
that love really is bite at first sight !

Don’t. call me a poet for my words have yet to form .
Don’t you call me a friend for my friendships art like the weather .
Don’t call me kind as my kindness knows you best ,for  the love in you’re eyes knows no rest .

For you’re thoughts are my ruin gin palaces of a decedent death .
My ruin ?
My ruin is to see you’re tears falling like rain drops ,
like thunder clouds in June .

Don’t call me you’re lover for our love cries out in the night ,
a cold venear of beauty and grace,
where darkness finds no light .

Yet here we stand alone ,
together in June .

Oh Lincoln is flooded with you’re tears ,
and I’m put out by you’re fears .

Ballasts. have swept by you in open seas ,
Men held to you’re riggin ,
have been brought to their knees .


And when you said I love you I mounted my horse and
Galloped away .
Call me what you might ,
a King a prince a fool ,
but to love you forever knows no bounds ,
no words ,
no rules .

As we walked I wondered if this Avenue of trees ,
where birds of paradise were lined in cages hung amgst the leaves ,
as far as the eye could  see .
Is that what you think of me ?
That love we share ,
In birds so rare ? said I
“ My darling don’t arose love “ she said
for these things are for heavenly creatures,
such things are not meant for me
for I am a creature of the dead “
and with that she shrugged her head .
“ But I do love you and that’s with all my heart
and if that were true in what you said .
Then Why does my heart leap like a young buck before a small bud
can reach  the sun ?





That is when the dark heavens awoke,
to thick dark clouds ,
and puffs of smoke ,
Where nothing would ever be the same .
Thou lighting bolts from heaven called out her name.

Lucinda I weep for you “
as  the might oak was split in two ,
It’s bark burns in  front of you Lucinda ..
as Men and women arise from where they slept .
and thunder bolts of dazzling ray ,
With a smell of death from beneath my belly wails ,
as she walked away .

And my walls of stone have been brought down ,
they lay before me on the ground .

And where is the sun ?
the moon and the stars ?
How the loved ones gazed apon.

their dazzling array .
and the sun by day ,
for they have vanished from our sight ,
thou it be the dead of night .

For the corn is wet and no good to eat ,
all ruined in this Bog of peat .

Yet I walk and must never stop ,
bid it not this journey must end .

Make haste that I should find my friend .
Are you there is that you ?
a horse and cart I meet along my way ,
but they are in great haste and don’t delay
The kings post must not be late “


The birds are circling far above ,
a young Buck that once bound and  lept  for love
now lies dead in a field of mud.

And I grew weary when will this end ,
to walk alone without my friend .?

So I looked out into the yonder road
and yet I did not see her ,
not now ,
not then ,
not ever again ?  .

There was a picture house where Mamgu and Dadcu first met ,
beside a swirling brook ,
Where an ice cream girl met a charming man with a smile
at the interval of the days picture show  

In a time gone by with no internet , snap chat or Twitter .
Just polite conversation ,
Just a peck upon a cheek ,
And all that's left is  a bridge underneath waters still roll ,
a quiet stream ,
Where waters flow  beside green pastures and hills .
And a chapel not far away where Mamgu and Dadcu where
Married ,where  my Mother and Farther tied their knot fifty seven years ago .
And it all began with a smile and an ice cream in the Capital
Picture show ,so many years ago .  .

There’s a church in Marytown ,
It’s ruins lay forgotten in this cold old Cumbria town .
Just bird song now fills its rotting pews ,
and. You tell me “  the bird ****  dos’nt bother you ? ‘

And there’s a hole in the roof where the rain still pours  in ,
In this Cumbrian town which closed its doors ,
the first days of spring.
Where it’s vermin crawl about yet are never heard ,
except by the owls the cats and the birds .

So As a darkness falls
on to this canvas of grey ,
a famous artist once picked up his brushes to paint ,
Studied it’s red brick sandstone spire ,
Where ships coming home ,
once lost at sea


found  Bibles like the holy grail ,
a bowl of soup for the sick and the frail .

There is a Church in Marytown ,
It’s led roofs have
been torn down,
When once it was a bustling town .

When people used to sing and dance.,found                             forgiveness for their repentant hearts
But now the thief’s have all moved in ,
their plates of silver ,
their crosses of puter and tin .
they  left in sacks like Viking foe ,
who pillaged this  land a long time ago ,
thee pieces of silver for their tormented souls .

And so it is when we all fall apart when the grace we felt was a piece of art ,
to look and admire upon a wall ,
then  a chilling wind blow s in  to heed Gods call,
and your canvas is as Grey as the skies ,
as the rains pitter patter falls .
For only Then will our grey skies find a lighter blue ,
In a permenant reminder Christ died for you .

My dear friend ,
Let me leave you with the concept of nothing .
No thoughts ,
adjectives , vowels or nouns .
Nothing .
Not a white sheet of paper ,
Just the endless ticking of a clock ,
tick tick .
Then you might begin to understand
The master of what is real ?
For out of nothing comes thought ,
Pictures in your mind .
Then and only then can you start to write .

A bird claws at my window Paine , it's midnight , and squawks for half an hour .
Now the birds in your room ,
You chasten it with a broom to which there is no ending .
But what if there is no room ?
And why is there something rather than nothing ?

Then what if that something was God ?
That entity that like th a poet could bring things to life ?
His word might become flesh ,
So light might overcome the dark .
Then the sun like a bridegroom might rise and in the evening tide set .
Eight hundred and sixty four thousand miles wide ,
Fifteen million Celsius of heat .
Gods champions league ,
his Gold cup .
Earth his paradise .
Like a child leaves his socks on the floor ,
My child's been here before ,
Yet our perverse minds can't see , God s. beauty and majesty .

Blind fold we walk into the night ,
with only selfish thoughts to please ,
Like cowards we shrivel and die ,
and evil a ghost of the light .
Bound it must take flight.
Then pride and greed our selfish need are mounted on stallions of which no man canst tame .
What if a crimson light ,
from a cross of wood speaks like a whisper to a beating heart ?

For the lives of the wicked are but empty ,
And in doing right we suffer long ,
In contemplation of things eternal ,
Is reward in Gods heaven above .

We beat our ******* how rightchous am I ,
God look down on me a sinner .
X

My Aunty Jane once possessed a cuckoo clock ,
as two little boys we watched it chime ,
holding our ice creams ,
bought for fifty pence .
I forgot about the panda cars and aunts cups of tea ,
and for a moment the cuckoo struck ,
it struck for me .

Cuckoo,
Cuckoo it sang with all its might ,
gracefully.
And  pritty soon the dancing girls came out ,
they turned and turned untill Jack came too .

And so I was sent to some far away place ,
with long green grass and meadows grazed ,
and where my little sister was nowhere to be seen ,
somewhere hiding in the apple green .

A long pole were girls went round ,
and didn’t stop ,
they wore masks to hide their faces ,
but they took me to far away places ,
playing hide and seek in the apple yard .


And still round and around they went ,
such was their contempt ,
then much to my lament ,
as i tried to leave ,

they drew me in ,
untill their childish games began .
My ice cream now was on the floor .

The  cuckoo clock chimed once more ,
my mummy said “ what a mess you have made “ .

Home I went wothout tea or cake ,
and sent to bed ,
oh for pity’s sake !
My sister walked in slammed the door ,
with Berlinda in hand and ,
with a smiling face said
“ you won’t see you’re toys no more “ .

'. If anyone competes as an Athlete  he does not receive the victors crown unless he competes
according to the rules 2 Timothy ch 2 v 5

I watched from the hallway of 19 Cimla Creasant ,my Gran with her Bible praying by herself .
Just Gran and God , her daily act of obedience unto thee.
' Call yourself a Christian ? '. My Grans rebuke of some mischevious deed ,
For all I knew were scorcher comics and superman books , and sooty and sweep
Squashed in a cupboard .
Yet Gran has her victors Crown her wreath of golden bronze , She ran her race with Gods
Good grace , and at last seen Christ face to face ' well done my good and faithful servant . '
Green shield stamps coop books , ham salads and cups of tea .
To look out over skewin and see the night lights shine as if just for me .
Then there was rusty the dog , and the odd 50 p from Aunty Jane in our grateful hands
For an Ice cream for being good as gold ,
We would listen for the coo coo bird on the hour and like trumpton take a bow .
My Grandads shed where My Father as boy would hammer nails on wooden floor ,
And the scarey cracked old mirror at the very back of the wooden floors.
Of walks to Opels for fish and Chips with white wet hanky at hand .
Sudden stops , just to listen to her grand children talk  and walk down the Cimla again .

Jesus Christ has risen today , Gran took us to her church one Easter
To sit in pews and sing nice hymns , to smile and be polite ,
no Barlymagrew as yet I knew Cuthbert Dibble doubt.

To the knoll we walked ,past river stream , and woodland ,
A cross was marked in some rock along the way ,
Is this where Jesus died , was crucified  , hung up on a tree ?

The book I read on mothers stairs  this man in comic strip ,
When i was 10 years old ,
The same man who died for me  torchered on a tree .
Would it be tie a yellow ribbon , or the ****** red Barron from Germany ?

We used to pray in Chennestone  hands up all to see
a peek to see who's looking
We  listened to Griegs Morning , and sung  there's  no discouragement to be a Pilgrim .

Then one day God came calling on the Isle of Wight.
On  Covie camp on blended knee i opened my heart to thee .
Oh the lion may roar from time to time ,
Gods grace is still enough for me