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Chris Slade Nov 2
Life’s not a rehearsal
it’s not some kind of drill
It’s for real you know… and you?
You’re standing still!

Things are going all wrong
and you don’t seem to care
you take it in your stride
but I need you to join me on this ride…to where?

We’ve been together so long
and it’s always been fun
but what goes on around us
well I’m afraid that’s me done

So please, come with me
for the last part of this trip
I’m leaving, come with me
one more time - read my lips!

Life’s not a rehearsal
it’s not some kind of drill
It’s for real you know… and you?
You’re standing still!
Chris Slade Jul 7
I can hear your voice.
I can see your face.
I can go back to places
we walked together.
I can hear the music we played...
I find I'm fleshing out the
memories we made.
But none of that replaces
the then, the used to be
and the 'were'
It's the here, the now
and the future I'm dealing with.
I'll miss the warmth
the tender and the kind
and I'll revel - memorably
in the space you leave behind.
Chris Slade Jul 7
It’s a slow slide to somewhere else...

He shuffles, stumbles stammers and he sleeps.

He knows I am his brother.
I help him go for a wee in a bowl,
we’re standing by the commode.

He shuffles back to his comfy chair

but only with my help.

“Are you my brother?”
“I am,” I say.

Six years is a biggish gap between siblings.

‘Our Brian’ tolerated me...

”Take Chris to the pictures”...
”Aw Mum, I’m 18... he’s only 12!!!”

He headed on out with his mates, smirking,
waving a *** and a ciggie.

But, when he needed a whizzo batsman for his cricket team,
who knew?
 I was strangely unavailable...
But, I capitulated and said “OK I’ll play for you!” We won!
At 81 he shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps.

He employed 300 people in factories overseas,

spoke with authority, negotiating with emperors -
always with total ease.
Today he talks in whispers, his larynx squeaks;

clatters like a broken pipe, every time he speaks...

He shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps
...for most of every day.
“
I am your brother aren’t I?”

“You certainly are”, I say.

He was the head of magistrates handing down the law...
I joked... I called him ‘hang ‘em high Bri’,

him judging slightly to the right of Atilla the ***.

I remind him of his past... We smile ...
(because of course it wasn’t true)....

The last thing to die will be his sense of fun.
He shuffles, stammers, stumbles and he sleeps.

He played prop forward for Birmingham Moseley’s first team, maybe his problems started way back when...

too many head clashes, line outs, scrum downs...

That’s the last thing you’d think about back then.
But there’s long term damage you might do...by just ‘being’.
He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, 
dummies
and scores in his dreams...as he sleeps.

He even went to garden parties at the Queen’s Equery’s behest
as well as, whilst in India, often - he’d be a Maharajah’s guest.
And, when you mention it, he just smiles wryly

and stares, with rictus grin. He IS in there!
That’s the trouble though... he sometimes IS locked IN!
He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, smiles -
and he does love to rest.
But sometimes he will rally with a string of memories
all lucid and true... and, if there’s food involved
he’ll be at the table way ahead of you.
That’s the quick shuffle!

He makes good progress 
through all his favourite stuff,
Then he’ll lie in his reclining chair 
and enjoy that customary nap

You watch him closely - making sure he’s still breathing
- thank heavens for that!

He stumbles, wheezes when he talks -

and shuffles when he walks...
He shuffles, stumbles...then he sleeps!
“You are my brother aren’t you?”
“You know I am - for keeps!
Love you Bri!”
At the time of posting this Brian, my older brother by 6 years  - now 6 years after his diagnosis of Parkinson's & Lewey Body Dementia...a slippery ***** it's escalating to being now nursing home bound... bed bound without mechanical assistance, doubly incontinent, unable to feed himself, sleeping 23 hours each day, incoherent when/if attempting to speak, obviously sporadically unable to understand simple concepts and speech from loved ones and staff...and bleeding family financial stability which HE would definitely NOT be happy with at all - at a rate of £1,000+ each week for his care... A Change in UK's law is essential!
Chris Slade Sep 2021
Night raids on Salt End
were legendary… It were a
giant chemical works with ship docks,
silos, storage tanks, fuel dumps,
an ideal 'drop off point' for Gerry…

But Salt End plant’s night raids
on Hedon Road
weren’t gonna daunt our lot,
they lived a mile or so down the lane to Preston
and seemed unafraid of gerri’n shot.

But they built a shelter across’t main road
in a field… On the outside It were a haystack
within the walls, six foot thick… proper beds
on hay bails to the front and back... cosy.

Down the middle was a ‘lounge’ with chairs,
lights, a radio - electric run from’t big ‘ouse
It’s better than being at’ome our Charlie used to say
For the eldest (and the architect) he’d not much nowse.

Me mam (then 19) told me she bussed it into Hull
“****** the Doodlebugs” She needed Jitterbugs…
and they still danced at City Hall.
******* to Gerry and his mates.
Margie & her pal René,
dauntless, they had a right ball!

Last Bus to ‘Withernsea’ from town
dropped her off at the junction
by the Speedway on Hedon Road.
Just as her way was lit by fire bombs - all about
when Gerry dropped his final unaimed load
Maybe ack-ack’d sort him out.

She was 2 miles from home… every few seconds another blast.
Scuttling …dodging whistling incendiaries,
running fast, whippet like…
any second could’ve been her last
anything too close she’d have to jump in't ****.

She couldn’t mek it t’t shelter or house so picked
the coal shed - instead… threw herself down
on coals…noise lifted - silence dawned… all clear
heavy breathing - not hers -  she wan’t alone
What if it’s one of them - a downed ***** airman.

Nervous, terrified more like she let out a little shudder
a gentle cough… to test her nerve
“Is that you Margie?… You daft ******!”
It were brother Tom… He’d been t’t Nags Head
and he’d run the opposite way from the village instead.
Chris Slade Sep 2021
We lay oblivious to the world outside
wrapped in each others brown paper folds
a parcel of tightly sealed emotion.
The warmth, the moisture… the dawning, yawning
the fawning, a rekindling of last night’s unfinished passion.

But you broke the spell, you pulled away.
Too eager to start another ****** frenetic day.
You left me wanting more… I wanted forever!
You spared me just 30 seconds more.
For me it’s more than just the physical thrill -
I wanted a whole lifetime of what we could do together.

It wasn’t anticipated or planned…
but that first day when you accidentally touched
my hand as I left you… we kissed for the first time.
Elated I skipped, jumped and punched the air...
Slow Mo - No guesses as to how long I hovered there.
I knew where this could go… yeah,
and I leapt ahead in time and saw how thing’s would be
after I picked you and you (thank heavens) picked me.

Time passes slowly I know -
but that was more than 50 years ago.  
And we still give each other tingles…
I'm not known for lovey-dovey stuff - but just this once!
Chris Slade Aug 2021
He shares my house…
the mouse.
It’s not the way I planned it.
It’s indiscriminate about where it *****
he eats the corners of all the packaging
all polite protocol he’ll ignore…
I’m afraid from now on it’s down to rodent WAR!

I’ve tried the humane ways
a friendly, humane trap that sits there days
and catches, zero, nothing, zilch, nout
so now we’re getting the big guns out.
I’ve got a set of Little Nippers
So powerful that when they go off
they fly and spin but sometimes
that’s often before they get their snout in or leg off!

He’s skilful, wilful, sneaky… But he does like Peanut butter
so I smear the hair-trigger of the trap with the stuff
and leave it where I’ve witnessed his faeces trail
So I know he’s been around when he’s nicked the bait
the trap still left active… So I’ll put that down as a fail!

Next time you little *******!
Chris Slade Aug 2021
With the benefit of hindsight
it should have been me…not him.
with the benefit of hindsight
I’d have better teeth - Oh yeh, and be slim…
and, with the benefit of hindsight
that chap that drowned needlessly…
well, he’d definitely have learnt to swim.

With the benefit of hindsight
I’d have tried harder in maths
With the benefit of hindsight.
my classmates would’ve shown respect
not just scorned me with laughs.
With the benefit of hindsight - we’d be IN!
we wouldn’t have lost on penalties
we would have had a ****** rip-roaring win!

With the benefit of hindsight
of course you’d all do your best
approach tasks with vigour verve, and zest.
With the benefit of hindsight
we’d all show true-grit, determination… vim
With the benefit of hindsight
I would have been smarter not quite so dim
What chance a little bit of foresight?…
SLIM!
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