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anthony Brady Mar 2018
Like Lazarus, I sat on
The Mansion House steps:
a citizen of  The City
gave me the bus fare
to St. John’s, Waterloo.
Underground I dived.

Surfaced and sheltered
by the church portico
I learned that a beggar
is nothing more than
the passive recipient
of a stranger’s kindness.

When I was hungry
you gave me food;
water when thirsty.
My clothes were gifted,
shelter you found for me.
Kind were  your words.

For these comforts
I lift up my hands
no longer in distress
but benediction:
gifting as poor return
all that you gave to me.

Blessed are the Merciful,
for they will receive Mercy.
Deo Gratias!

Tony Brady
anthony Brady Mar 2018
“It’s someone you might know”
                        said the voice on the phone,
                        “Can you come round?
                        Ring back when convenient,
                        on this number - usual hours”.
                        At the mortuary a long metal tray
                        is slid out from the fridge:
                        The Attendant says “Another NFA!
                        This winter’s a killer!
                        though no worse than usual!”

                        The face is revealed;
                        the eyelids are stitched.
                        “Nothing to go on -
                        Can you say who it is?
                        The rats got the eyes!”
                        “Can I look at the clothes?
                        they might give a lead.”
                       “None found.” is the reply.
                         “In the muddy conditions
                        they had all rotted away.”
                        A last long look…
                        Then I turn aside;
                        the Attendant slides
                        the remains from sight.
                        In cold silence we look at
                        each other, our eyes say:
                        “It could be anybody.”

anthony Brady Apr 2018
M-ore gentle than the sweetest breeze
   Your breathe unites with mine
A-nd for a while I sense that ease
    Two hearts enjoy when lips combine.

R-arer than the richest stones
    Hid in sea swept caves
Y-our eyes in myriad tones
     My searching gaze enslaves.

O-nce the gods of beauty drew
    Your form to their design
R-aised in love you grew
    To loveliness - dare I that work define?

E-rato, Muse of lyric lays
    And verses of amour
I-nspire me now to praise
    In simple poetry, she whom I adore.

L-ike the sun you
  Warm me
L-ike the moon you
  Charm me.
Y-ou are my Valentine.

This is an acrostic. Reading downwards, it reveals  the name of the lady who inspired the poem. Published in an Anthology by FORWARD PRESS 2007
anthony Brady May 2019
It flows in my veins,
such sweet ecstasy,
an intoxicating love.

So addictive I'm
a life-time user,
after just one hit.

I need it, crave it:
heart fuelled ardour,
those delirious doses.

You refine the ******
I maintain the habit.
You control the supply.

Me: the desperate
****** who’s in
love with you.

anthony Brady Sep 2019
I could feel my heart
breaking like waves
on an alien shore:
shards of my soul
being put back
piece by piece though
not in the correct order.

My emotions dragged
every which way
by relentless tides
then I heard a voice
familiar calling to me
from a distant ship
passing in the night.

I can't contain it
not anymore
the pain of being
alone - it gnaws
at the hopes I once
had flying high like sails
I felt my remaining pieces
slowly cracking.

Until one day,
sooner than later
all of me in broken pieces
is washed up on a beach
making me officially

anthony Brady Mar 2019
When you wish to pray to God
find a church: enter, seek a
quiet place, talk to God.
You may even feel
a  Call from God...

...though unlikely
to be received
on your mobile.

For the sake of
quiet for others
turn off your phone.

However, If you wish
to see God outside
the church - send
a text  while
you are driving.

anthony Brady Apr 2018
It used to frighten me
as a young farm worker
that the bull would break out.

I would take my blanket
and in practice play
the matador’s moves

It was my way
of countering my fears
of a horned charge in the night.

It never came
but being ever ready
I slept always on guard.

anthony Brady Mar 2018
A password forgetter
I knew
asked me what could
they do?
I thought for a while,
then said
with a wry smile,
"Just get on the 'phone
to GCHQ!"

While reviewing new battle ships,
in fleet form on the river Rhine,
Angela Merkel, wanting to dine.
ordered on her mobile, calimara,
then overheard Barack Obama
suggest doughnuts, pizza and dips.

Angela retorted with Aw! Gee!
Barack, I know what you had for tea.
According to my twitters
at breakfast Putin had fritters.
You're wearing red boxers - I'm told;
Michelle's choice of  knickers is gold.

Edward Snowden - Known for revealing details of classified United States government internet surveillance.. GCHQ UK based global  listening-in post.
anthony Brady Jul 2019
Mother mine - forever missed,
I leave flowers for you today
and light a candle in a
nearby Chapel of Repose.
Your child, a grown man
but always your infant
prays from his inner soul.  
Peace attends you now,
be comforted,  consoled.
A surrogate woman
will kiss me when I
sleep and stay by me.
Her love hold me
cherished in her arms
close to her heart,
the place that's ours
and ours alone. A
mother and a
lover’s love.

anthony Brady Mar 2019
There is an empty place
in my heart: one thing
is all I need you to do,
it is to fill that space
by inserting into it
your love.

anthony Brady Oct 2018
The heat of Summer
is gripped  by sweaty hands
of September & October:
squeezing, wringing out
its energy  like water
held in  a sponge.
Leaves, in a thick canopy
are still green overhead.
The sun penetrates them
with laser- like beams
that dazzle the eyes.
Berries are ripening on
thorny brambles.
Wild lilies bloom in
unearthly orange hue.
The low hum of insects:
a faint rustle of squirrels
or rabbits stirs silence.
Listen - a melodic
chorus of birds with little
more to do this Autumn
day  - but sing and wing
about this earth – this England.

anthony Brady Apr 2018
Has a petrol-head called Clarkson
run out of speedy road to park on?
Because of his late meal,
his producer got a weal.
Now his fans wail: “Oh Dear!
It’s a dead  end for “TOP GEAR.”

Seems the wheels have come off
for this brazen non-PC toff.
Is it the end of the ride
for Chipping Norton’s pride
and no clear  Right of Way
for chums Hammond and May?

No sensible man would scupper,
his own TV slot for a cold supper.
Yet there’s alpha males who dread,
TOP GEAR’S due for a feminist retread.
Go girls! Vroom! Vroom! Time for you instead.

A slightly dated ditty. The Guardian bloggers liked it circa March 2015
anthony Brady Jan 2019
My words convey
loving feelings
from my heart
from my soul
via each
the space
in silence
to You.

anthony Brady Mar 2018
Six letters spell out my secret self:
S-ometimes  - TOBIAS

I am the baby caressed
at my mother’s breast.

A child learning sums,
playing with my chums
at football scoring
goals and soaring
to the heights of fame.

At times, a growing boy
entranced in nature’s joy.

Now and then I paint
for the family Medici
or become a Saint
like Francis of Assisi
chatting with the birds.

Some days I walk
in groves with Plato
and learn to talk
the simplicities of Cato
and for a while am wise.

Most days though
I hardly show
his side. So few can know
The Other Being I Am Sometimes.

anthony Brady Mar 2018
Your love is like an
atoll in life's ocean,
vast and wide:
a haven, calm shelter
from the wind, the rain, the tide.
It’s bound on the north by Hope,
by Patience on the West,
by tender Counsel on the South
and on the East by Rest.
Over it a beacon flame
reflects Faith, Truth, Prayer.
While  from all the raging
storms of life - your children
find a sanctuary there.
anthony Brady Jul 2019
Her wobbly hands  on the rudder
of state, watchers are all a quiver
commenting on Angela’s shiver.
For, she’s come all over shaky
and her reign’s looking flaky.
All because Donald Trump
who gives her the schlump
is causing her to shudder.

Schlump - terrors
anthony Brady Mar 2018
Weary, lost and hungry
a traveller came to an inn.
Under the sign of
“The George & Dragon”
he enquired at an open window:
“Could I have something to
eat please?”
“No!” said the landlady
“We’re closed!”

“Well, could I have a bed
for the night?”
“Certainly not!
Go away!”

Thus rebuffed
the traveller
waited for a while,
then called again:
“Could I speak to George
this time please?”

anthony Brady Aug 2019
Be kindly, gentle, with the hoary toad,
help it whenever to cross the road.
Confused quite often with the frog,
that smooth amphibian can leap a log.

In meadows strolling, keep in mind
mound-maker mole created blind.
Another creature, it’s called a vole
please do not disturb it in its hole.

Field mice have exquisite charm.
to they and dormice do no harm.
Over fields of clover vetch and rye
take delight in fluttering butterfly.

Just think, such creatures, two by two,
in Noah's Ark, it is written, came through
the biblical Deluge and so survive
so long as we allow them all to thrive.

Life would be bleak - Nature bare
if some day we deigned  to stare
and to our dismay became aware
of precious species no longer there.

anthony Brady Nov 2014
They Did Not give Their Lives:
                          Their Lives Were taken From Them.

The boy soldiers formed up in line:
the Sergeant inspected each in turn.
Colonel Forde (retired)
took the salute; the cadet’s
drilled colour party moved off.

Towards the village Cross
the troop marched on,
and as the band struck
up the tune “Blaze Away”
flocks of pigeons rose
from misted fields
exploding into flight
spreading like shrapnel
to enfilade the distant trees.

Crackling gunfire
echoed in the woods
and pheasants beat
from cover plunged
to earth, killed
in fern and bracken
by weekend shooting
party’s fusillade.

On the war memorial wreathes rested
where villager’s names inscribed on stone
are listed Unforgotten. The church bell
chimed an end to silent minute. A bugle
call died away as birds sang out an anthem.

Tony Brady
anthony Brady May 2019
Your smile evokes fragrance
of a wild rose:  you waft it
generously and graciously

You display beauty effortlessly
marvellously - nature made
you to attract and charm

Bees seek you out:  nectar
on their lips as they sip
deep wherever you bloom

You, the most gorgeous flower
with the soft captivating blush
of pale pink perfect petals

You change my world to bliss
allowing me to gaze on beauty
entranced, unblemished

Everything about you
lures me to pluck this
rose without thorns.

anthony Brady Dec 2018
There are times
that are so dark
you feel that
you have been
But, for all you
know, you may
well have been
Hope: a tender
gardener of your
life will give
you space to grow.
Will tear out
every clawing ****
cast all aside,
the rooted troubled
of them you
had no need.

One for the discouraged and feeling all is hopeless.  Earth has naught more fair than those who overcome despair.
anthony Brady Oct 2019
Henry The Eighth - a most randy King,
from Monday to Saturday lived in sin.
But on Sundays he  left his Royal "mare"
and spent the whole day in pious prayer.
Tho' his sins were scarlet his bible was read.
Then on stroke of midnight - so it is said,
with his latest mistress he was soon abed.

inspired by a poem by Modelrolex Augustine
anthony Brady Apr 2018
A fit-looking *****
just out of prison,
called at a house
and asked for help.
“I’m surprised at
a man like you
asking for money!”
said the lady
of the house.

“I’ve got to ask
for it ma’am,”
he replied.
“When I took
it last time,
without asking,
I got six
months inside.”

anthony Brady Mar 2018
Close by the Mission San Cristòbal
is a great house wherein dwells
the distant, cool and beguiling
La Doña Carmen Garcia-Cabrall.

At her command I saddle the mare,
I ride behind and attend as she
visits her friends here and there.
La Doña Carmen Garcia-Cabrall.

She say: “Harness my horse - Miguel!
Bring my boots - Miguel!
Por Favor - Miguel.” I obey all for  
La Doña Carmen Garcia-Cabrall.

Her lover Don José Francisco Delgado
is often away: He say: “Adios!
Miguel!  And be  sure to watch over
La Doña Carmen Garcia-Cabrall!”

Close by the Mission San Cristòbal
I wait  in the yard of the great
house wherein dwells  
La Doña Carmen Garcia-Cabrall.

She say: “Stable the horse  - Miguel!
Then come upstairs: Quickly! - Miguel!
Now pull my boots off - Miguel!
Por Favor - Miguel!”

I say: “Señora! Is that all?”
She say: “Do as you wish Miguel! -
Miguel - Close the door!
The bolt on the inside -Miguel
La Doña Carmen Garcia-Cabrall.

anthony Brady Mar 2018
Advice for the Hello Poet "Midnight" on failing to achieve satisfaction in love making.  Take : 1 ripe man & 1 ripe woman; a glass or two of wine; a little oil; a generous handful of time; a flat surface for rolling out on; a few sweet words of decoration.

Proceed as follows:
Pour wine into two glasses.
Drink a little from time to time.
Remove outer garments from
the man and woman carefully.
Set them aside.
Check the skin for any
remaining garments,
remove slowly, assessing each
area uncovered for damage.
Any damage may be removed
at this stage by careful application
of lips to the area. Place
undergarments with outer
garments for use later. Feel
remaining flesh all over for
less obvious signs of damage.
If whole and unbruised, rub
all over generously with oil:
then lay out flat. Wait for the
man to rise fully. The man
and woman are now ready.
Let them prove themselves,
turning occasionally. Judge
when they are done by how
they feel. They should be very
hot, sticky and very damp.
Sprinkle with sweet words.
Leave to rest before returning
to original under and outer garments.

anthony Brady Mar 2018
Homeless:  after midnight.  
               Sheltered in this cold
               church  doorway.
               I can hear a clock
               ticking  in  its tower.
               Rustling  leaves, tossed  
               along  wet pavement
               in a callous wind sound  
               like approaching footsteps.
               In  famished  sleep  
               I dream  of  former  glory.
               Me.  A celebrity.
               Yeah!  – Big Time.
               All I  have  now
               are  fading echoes
               of  cheering crowds.
               Some comfort.
               The applause dies.  
               I awake: alone with
               sounds.  A  clock ticking.
               Leaf  blown  footsteps.
               A  cheerless wind.  
anthony Brady Jun 2018
I lived,
to write
my story of
survival for people
who are suffering victims.

"I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest."

A Dialogue of Self And Soul - W B Yeats
SCENES FROM AN EXAMINED LIFE -  author Anthony J M Brady Available from
anthony Brady Apr 2018
A  limo parks up in a silent street:
moonlight filters into a hotel suite,
naked a form lies under a flimsy sheet.
A door opens and quickly closes,
furtively to the bed a figure moseys.
Slipping in beside the dozer,
snuggled up, ever closer,
He whispers “Julia, I need you,
You waited. I love you.”
Suddenly the tryst is broken
as deep voiced words are spoken:
“Whose Julia?”
“I’m Julian”.

anthony Brady Sep 2019
Bathed in moonlight
are my love and me.
Under the trees,
rays spreading,
through woodland:
a sylvan canopy of
boughs lighter each day.
Autumnal - not dying,
retiring, destined to return.

Plants and creatures,
taking refuge in
mother earth,
mother nature.
such delight,
each night,
sitting outside,
my Love and me.
together - yet solitary.

No other humans
distracting us.
Silent and still
only nocturnal
creatures stir.
What magic,
what sanctity,
mystical delight.
together with THE ONE.

Our senses feeling our nature,
always here - never apart.
Not fearing death, loving life,
relaxing, laughing, pure and free,
forever more, just being,
revealing the truth of what
we have become,
that which we are
who we always were.

Such sweet life:
my love and me,
sitting here in
this place - this Autumn.

Inspired by his poem - The Burning of the Leaves - by Lawrence Binyon
anthony Brady Oct 2015
The fallen leaves that spun in leaps
and bounds at every chattering gust
now lie trapped in rustling heaps
or whirl about as drifting dust.

These leaves that once the sound
of wind moved in whispering green
revealed those birds that found
cover in their shifting screen.

Lone in a park’s summer shade
a single homeless man has found
some shelter – his bed he made
safe under bushes dry and sound.

Weeks into months he slept unseen
and squirrels peeped from drey
on sheltered form as the green
canopy thinned to brown and grey.

One Autumn day as gentle breezes flayed
the leafy blanket off the man concealed
top deck bus commuters saw revealed
the curled up body in death decayed.

anthony Brady May 2018
I  sense it on this sunny morn’ in May
I knew that I could not wait another day
There is something I must tell you
A voice is calling to me….

“Until we find the bridge across forever
Until this grand illusion brings us home,
You and I will always be together
From this day on, you'll never walk alone".

….You are a part of me, I'm a part of you:
Wherever we may travel
Whatever we may go through
Whatever time and space may take away,
It cannot change the way I feel today.

So hold me close - say you feel it too:
You are part of me and I am part of you.

anthony Brady Sep 2018
My wishes are: that you will
find Comfort in trying times.
Smiles when Sadness intrudes.
Rainbows to disperse dark clouds.
Laughter to kiss your lips.
Sunsets to warm your heart.
Hugs when spirits are low.
Friendship to brighten your being.
A Muse to Inspire you.
Faith in which to believe
in Poetry's possibilities.
Courage to know yourselves.
Confidence when in doubt.
Good Health and the Patience
to accept what is - that you
can go on to live a long
and fulfilling happy life .

Oh!! I almost forgot
more Inspiration - less
Perspiration in your writing
and creativity.
anthony Brady Nov 2018
TB or not TB!
Is it in the badgers?
That is the question.
Whether 'tis noticed
elsewhere - slurry perchance.
As they shuffle off the coils
of barbed wire or dodge  the
slings and arrows of culler’s  slaughter
for outrageous fortune,
who for them will take up arms
with a see  of dissidents
and by opposing
end the heart-ache, the
thousand natural shocks
their setts are heir to?
'Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wish'd.

William  Spearshake
anthony Brady Oct 2018
A hedgehog, while traversing a road
gave a lift to a tentative toad.
As the piggy-back was prickly
they traversed it quite quickly.
and made it safely over the road.

anthony Brady May 2018
In your childhood
I saw You formed
as fragrant flowers:
while sun showers
fell on your growth
to natural beauty.

Gently as You bloomed,
I placed daisy-light
kisses of sweet love
on your chaste petals.
On your first birthday
an acorn - I planted.

Now in a mythical
Garden of Memories
I carve into the mature
towering oak tree bark
clean fresh stanzas
of unforgettable words,
That tell You truly:
Never Doubt
You Are Loved.

I lift my proud hands
as if to reach the sky
and bring down
showers of stars
for they ever shine
so bright, so clear
Just like You do.

For my daughter Laura - Clinical Psychologist
anthony Brady Mar 2019
Now I was young and easy. Led
entranced under plum tree blossoms
drifting along the sloping drive
to white-washed walled Stud Farm.
This ecstasy of being cool pig-pink
sunk happy in a mud brown wallow.
Then I was bold and carefree,
working among the barns
busy about the happy yard
on the farm that was home.
Young once only, in my kingdom
as Time let me live my dreams.
It carried me over and over again
in daytime walking or running,
it was lovely, the sweet scents:
fragrant hay field’s cut grass
and herbage fully sun dried.

Or, I pedalled in evenings
led by bicycle-dynamo-beamed
light under the stars to sleep.
Above me the barn owls were
claiming skies of swallows clear.
Coppice hooting in preludes,
there bats about soon flitted
where  tiny glow worms flickered.

Then to dawn awake: the farm,
mist-shrouded as a roamer white
dew cloaked, returning to hear
****’s crowing from hen coops
black cawing crows in the trees.

Glimpsing the same clear sky
changed from yesterday
into today’s white and blue.
The same sun but born again.
The distant church bells ringing.

Nothing I cared for more
than pink piglets new born,
just meadow-birthed lambs
and black and white calves
that would take up my time:
to hold me to the farm forever
released from orphanage hold.

Oh! I was so young and easy.
In the mercy of its means,
Time held me as I was flying
while I threw off captive
chains - at last unshackled - free.

This poem owes much to the poem - Fern Hill - by Dylan Thomas. I spent 12 harsh years as a foundling in a variety of orphanages. Then I was moved to an agricultural training school - graduating to be a farm worker until aged 21. Then I moved to Belgium caring for life-time TB afflicted survivors from concentration camps.
anthony Brady May 2018
Memories are golden
that is really true:
those I never sought,
I only wanted you.

For years I cared for you,
the countless times I cried.
If love alone could cure you
you never would have died.

In life I loved you dearly,
In death I love you still.
In my heart - a space you fill
no other pet can - nor ever will.

If tears could trace a roadway
and heartache guide my feet,
I’d ***** the steps to feline heaven
and  bring you down to earth again.

Now a chain is broken,
nothing seems the same.
But all in Fate’s  good time
the chain will link us once again.

The beloved cat of a dear friend has died.
anthony Brady Mar 2019
Tonight is the night for couplets.
Time for much more than that,
because I am ashore with you
while the rest of the world
leaves on an evening tide.
In moonlight we will surf
on wild incoming waves
of temptation’s delight
lured by siren songs
to an ecstatic night
of performance
****** poetry
in coupling.

anthony Brady Jun 2020
If words were water
I’d never drown
but float wave on
wave of them
over stormy seas
to  you my only
certain landfall.

There to cascade
into a pure  haven
of heart’s desire,
safe under shade
of your protecting
wings my words
will flow to tell
the endless tides
of ageless time
I am in love
with you as
long as our
hearts beat.

anthony Brady Apr 2018
To live
is to leave  
all behind:
to be free as
a shipwrecked soul
who has lost everything.

anthony Brady May 2019
I watch you. Unbooted,
stripping off daylight.
Bare, birthday suited,
silvered in moonlight.

I thrill - my pulses racing
you lie chilled out tracing
edges of dark and light
etched in shades of night.

You reach out to me as kin  
drawn to skin on skin
together we lie as on fire
freeing all our love's desire.

Awake in pre-dawn twilight,
we bathe in rays of delight
as you don filtered raiment
shimmering in  golden sunlight.

chiaroscuro: the interplay of dark and light. . shadow and clarity.
anthony Brady Dec 2019
Deep joy in knowing everyone
I know is enjoying Christmas.
I pray: May all the homeless
experience some warm respite
in the kindness of strangers.
Here’s hoping all the horses
get extra nuts and hay;
caviar for cats and PAL -
prolongs active life - for dogs.
As for badgers and foxes:
Please Jesus - let them be snug
and safe in settes and earths.
Let piggies in their sty, upon
fresh straw and sawdust lie.
Abundance of slugs and
beetles for hedgehogs please
and let no owl go hungry in
the frosty silent night. Amen.

anthony Brady Dec 2018
You are my best Christmas present.
Gift wrapped. Heaven sent.
Ribbon bound. Temptation led.
Gently I lay you flat upon the bed,.
holding back  the urge to tear
away those flimsy bonds to bare
naked seductions  waiting there.

A long slow peeling’s best:
a stripping back of the rest
layer on layer until unsealed
sensual delights are all revealed.
Now let’s set our souls on fire
make free in all that we desire,
indulging passion’s every sin.

anthony Brady Mar 2018
On the balcony parapet
a despairing cat owner:
***** wails - “Before you
drop - where’s the tin opener?”.
anthony Brady Mar 2019
Whatever the weather
calm, windy or cool
cats and dogs
I fall for you..
dew drenched
like lightening
like rain storms  
snow showers
hail splashed
sleet slashed
blazing sunshine.
tanga untangled.. climactically.

Bellwether: something that shows how a situation will develop or change:
anthony Brady Oct 2018
Your raw material is Humanity:
You ponder - you produce.
You make things beautiful,
You make beautiful things.
You allow them space,
set them in their place,
to be themselves:
Herself – Himself.
This is The Way
The Way to Love.

anthony Brady Apr 2018
A jogging man from Bude
was most incredibly rude
being greatly endowed
but imprudenly proud
he did something silly
he trod on his willie
now he's never about in the ****.

anthony Brady Jan 2019
I have a dear friend
for some time:
her name is

Today she told me
it's time to enter
her inner sanctum.
I was anxious,
humbled, awe-filled.

At the doors
of her Cathedral
of Wisdom
I hesitated.

It was daunting,
the mystery, fear
of the unknown
overpowering me.  

An internal
struggle of whether
it might just be much
safer to remain in the
life to which I’m so
accustomed than
risk it all by having
certain comfortable
illusions dispensed with.

Understanding told me
that enter the temple I must,
because loving her is trust,
making  the decision inevitable.

anthony Brady Oct 2018
Dim the lights
let me melt in
passion's night.
Let you spread
webs of silky veils
to blind my eyes.
Take my fingers,
let them trace as
braille the skin of
your body contours.
Smoothe its patina
caress, mould it.

Permeate my senses  
guide my travel over
your uncharted map,
voyage ****** terrain:
each inch of you
touched, surveyed
as new routes
are found, explored,
landmarks followed.

Close your eyes
feel the search
of my tender hands
through the darkness
of a night without end.

Expose your
beauteous body
contours, curves
soft swell of *******,
arched thigh cleavage  
cleft half moon peaches
lead me to a fern veiled vale
to secret gorge spread wide,
steer  my roused questor up
the mount of  Venus’ cleft,
to plunge pulsating adown
slippery labile slopes into  
clasps of foaming depths.

Thoughts and vocabulary gleaned from a brief dabbling into HP ****** and Sensual poetry.
anthony Brady Jun 2018
Madness as privatised
business - is booming.
Therapist's careers
are blooming.
Social media
bottom feeds
on mental angst.

Suffering suffuses
Agony Chat Rooms.
Sorrow streams into
the public domain.
Distress has become
valued currency.

Bruises  tattooed
over have become
an ironic needling
A kind of beauty
masking grief.
Depression is
now commercial.
Emotions as a canvas
have become  street Art.

Heartbreak is tuned to lyrics
of gut-wrenching songs.
Pain is distilled in poetry.
Never was Madness so marketable.

The UK government continues to underfund mental health services. Public loss is privatised.
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