"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." - John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)

*As a child I loved you Mork, as an adult you taught me the fine line between laughter and despair.

Alone in the darkness I sigh. Other things far away from the battle line occupy me, such things as love flow through my head. I imagine you naked and standing before me, such acts we perform, words we say to each other, words I could never utter into the realms of speech lest I be stricken down with rod of lightening. Nether less I adore these glimpses, indeed I harbour intent for fruitful desires with my intended love.

As horn doth bellow weapon is drawn at readiest, with lance and sword I am at last prepared for what is to come. I stand abreast with better man than I, awaiting the extremes of battle. It is not an army that faces me, surely a nest, a colony of such unending mass. I fear that the whole of humanity stands before us this day. And as they swarm forward I fear such an infestation so unimaginable to behold.

By the grace of God I do believe my life will end here. I fear that I shall never again see my homeland and the one I share such dreams with. I look to God for the strength of many, for my heart to be engulfed with that of a Lion, and my Sword to be as enhanced as that of our own good King Arthur’s Excalibur. For if victory is to be ours this day, it is the Right Hand of God that shall hold this battle to rights, for it is in no mans hand to wield this capability.

Hour upon hour the death toll exceeds. Such things I see this day are beyond reproach, a more foreign battlefield I have never seen. Not simply the war of man but that of wizardry and witchcraft. This attacker is of no breed I have ever witnessed but that of incarnation. This Evil manifestation parades upon human being. Slaughter is its middle name and this entity feeds on its own etymology.

Brave knights on sturdy steed make your attack riotous and as Foot Soldier fights and dies by peculiar hand you chase down the brewer of this unfortunate broth. Wiser Knight shall not be found than he that sits in circle with Arthur Pendragon. They brave the wave of inhuman soul battling around them with valour and vigour. In their centre the figure of Merlin concocts his own mischief upon said fatal clan.

Once more to victory we strive, foul spell is cast no more and inhuman hand flags, falling by our side as he breathes this mortal coil no longer. The deed is done and battle is no longer. We grieve as we haul body of friend and fellow to bear in deaths pile, though within such angst lies an under current of relief. Happiness will flourish when this deed is concluded.

I can now allow myself such aspiration that once flowed through my being. Upon my return to dear England those forbidden words from my dreams shall once more become a reality. I shall give her my all and expect nought less in return, our ******* will rival, if not overwhelm that of any other man that eve. With health and happiness before me I take my leave of this most pleasant of company.

God save the King

Expectation....
As you draw in the warmth from the blistering ember
you will travel a road that I know you'll remember.
Make sure you're comfy in your night-time attire
as you open the book beside this open fire.

You sit here alone reading by candle's glow
your design on this journey that these pages will show.
You flick through the prologue so ready to start
Unknown roads stand before me, so now I depart.

I relish, these words that are so well designed.
Passing such crafted visions into embracing mind
and so were away, as I follow the text,
full of anticipation at what to expect.

Onward....
What is it I cannot see, it hovers vaguely up ahead, shadow stalk, lingering round, vanishing with words un-said.
Uncertain, I do forge ahead, my passage-way remains un-blocked
a beating heart is all I hear and fear is certainly unlocked.

Expeditions must proceed as I try hard not to sway.
With words un-aired but swiftly told with handful gesture as I pray.
I want so much not to be afraid, such horrors keeps my mind engrossed
Reluctantly I turn the page, clinging to this paper host.

Continuing through this written course, what must I cater for ahead,
from words that I cannot divorce. Is Shelley's monster still un-dead.
Standing just outside the grasp of shadows moving through the night
with Frankenstein will I relapse? Shall Dracula cause early flight.

Has Jeckyll change into his Hyde? The only way to surely know,
Is carry on till journeys end, continue forth and watch the show.
Should I force this cover shut or should I just continue on.
My fear maybe sounds absurd as I escape from Chapter one?

How can I be afraid to read?
They're merely words from someone's mind.
Fictitious lines from crafters pen,
why then am I in this bind?

This fear I have is very real
as images do start to brew.
So curious I have no choice,
my course is clear- Chapter two

Painful Endurance....
It seems so long ago to me since first I opened this
Cover up and looked inside to see things I don't want to miss.
I've travelled through such horrors in the Chapters I have delved.
If foresight was ahead of me this novel would be shelved.
This truly was not on my mind when this work I did desire
but I worry that I shan't get back home to sit beside my fire.

Do we have any idea?
Have we even got a clue?
Can it be that we don't give a ****
what others are going through.

Are we so wrapped up in selfish mode?
So devoted to our own.
That we should sit back and watch
as others are gnawed down to the bone.

Should it be that our own offspring
if they were cast away so far?
Would we worry about that pipeline
bringing fuel to run our car?

Or would we stand aloft in horror
as they were thrown unto the ground?
Or for fuel thats cheap and plentiful,
is it ok to make no sound?

We hear about disasters.
Tsunami strikes upon Japan.
Earthquakes raging out in Haiti
Watch death befall our fellow man.

Throw donations in a bucket
at the supermarket doors,
then forget because of shopping.
but we have paid towards their cause.

Could you ever even fathom?
Your children crying as they play,
not for Barbies or Play-stations
but for the pain to go away.

Never asking for the latest
made by Hamleys or Mattel
rather just an handfull of food
to help beat the starvation battle.

Wash it down with poison water
from a river filled with ****
or collect in rusty tin cans
from a worn and stagnant pit.

If this was the plight of our children
things would surely be said.
We would try to move a mountain
rather than our young be dead.

Could you ever really imagine?
Could you ever really get,
that a million hits on You-Tube
turn endangered species into pets?

What if someone could ask on face-book
about your daughter or your son,
saying"It looks so cute and cuddly,
"go on e-bay and buy me one."

If only we could all be happy,
not feel a need to own the place.
If we could learn to be contented
by a childs smiling face.

Treat the world with awe and wonder.
Treat its creatures with respect.
Treat each other in this same way.
Treat nobody with neglect.

Then perhaps we may push together,
make our Governments do right.
Let's lead the World with people power,
no more starvation or blight.

Let's be less materialistic
let us have a life of worh
Not by owning all we see,
rather sharing this our earth.

Under the bed clothes
do I nest,
my mind
not being able to rest.

The total darkness
overpowering me,
picturing horrors
that I cannot see.

The slightest wisp
of night time breeze.
Making me gasp.
Making me freeze.

And in the silence
of my own room,
Imagination,
is starting to bloom.

I picture this.
I picture that.
A wicked witch
with her black cat.

A Vampire with teeth
with sharpened point.
A Zombie's body
so out of joint.

Above me it lingers
to do me such wrong.
Downward it approaches
with odious song.

Almost upon me
as I recoil from its head,
I am brought back to earth
when I fall out of bed.