Grave miss-shape of my words is used upon me. A scrambled charade of truth once told in such innocent converse. Whispers of reality merge with that of embellishment and ambiguity. skilfully woven and portrayed with tongue of Silver lined exception.

Graced upon to ***** audience whom cast ribald and ****** taunt from hierarchies seat. All of whom, in all reality recognize the stamp of torturous acquirement. All so quite clearly can be witnessed, should they choose to view this mortal shell of indicted personage positioned at their feet.

Blabbered brushed jaws painting this foulest of portraits, expressing disloyal and flexuous glimpse of devotion and fidelity. Dedication and overall Commitment that was once so sought after from those who now sit in expectant judgement.

Even unto Royal figure who with such ingratitude and for own expense should be so inconceivable and self immersed than to make false expression for own end. Formulation of such discourse would make even the most unfortunate of individual aghast in repugnant antipathy.

Upon to no Maiden in this realm should I even resemble that for which I stand accused. Particularly that one of Royal Nobility of whom all graces and respect should cast such humility and servitude upon loyal and most reverent subject.

Indeed I would personally Chastise so vehemently any such being who would envisage to execute such immoral and un-pardonable that as I am oh so wrongly accused of this day. With all flight and honour would I intend to right such a wrong passed upon a lady of such stand.

I stand in excellent company with upstanding fellow also cast avail by Unruly Royal and his band of foul hounds all baying to his every utterance and command.

To rid himself of loyal Queen with illicit words of degradation and misdemeanour is not one of a King, rather a Serpent that slivers through the slime of a false Heart. Deeming so unjustly to procure another in his bed for lack of male heir.

Once my loyalty to thee was forthcoming for I thought in my very soul there stood a King of elegance and splendid honour. But all such thought now bastardised as through yonder window shines true light of day.

To thee then Henry VIII, King of this realm I curse thee with every inch of my soul. God above will levy your foul action with female child, deny thee strong male seed and burden thee with an eternity of Hell.

As I wrongly die, I am crying for all that could have been. I cry for my wife and child, for an inhuman heart that sets his sights over the death of his Queen.

For twenty thousand rights cannot make amends for one singular foul wrong.

Sixty seconds in a minute.
Sixty minutes in an hour.
Twenty four completes one day.
How many days for love to flower?

I only glimpsed you for one second.
A minute for my heart to beat.
Was so in love within the hour.
That day I saw that face so sweet.

Our kiss a minute lasts a second.
An hours a minute in your arms.
When were together weeks are hours.
Our years but weeks this marriage charms.

But now your gone seconds are hours.
Minutes seems to last a day.
A day will slowly take forever.
Till we next meet so far away.

As you walk through the city street
there's something that you may not know.
What's going on under your feet
only metres down below.

Life is multiplying fast,
migrating sometimes up above,
to forage through your garbage bags
gathering the free food that we all love.

We carry with us little friends
that pack a really powerful punch
and there's nothing they appreciate more
than human blood for their lunch.

With the lesson of the past forgotten
by you humans up above
where millions died because of filth
and everyone lost someone they'd loved.

Yet still you throw away your waste,
you leave it lying on the street.
Disease is on it's way to you you
from little forager under your feet.

Call this disease what err you will.
Black-death, the pox but it's on its way
and all because you can't be bothered
but in the end it's you who'll pay.

In the meantime we will breed en-mass,
our babies growing, getting fat
and all can deliver to you this fate.
I really do love being a Rat.

He stares all day out into space,
looking for she whom does not show.
A frightened look adorns his face,
Is something missing, he should know?

He is not sure, why or who
these strangers are who do converse.
He doesn't know quite what to do,
why is he here? Why have a nurse?

They look at him with loving eyes.
Smiling glances flow across.
What do they seek and what's more, Why?
He does not know, he's at a loss.

These souls have so much love to share,
why are they pointing it his way?
He only wants his Mother around
and she should be here any day.

He feels sorry for such woes.
So lets them smile and talk away.
Secretly he does wish they would go,
he wants to go outside and play.

They say to him “Well bye then Dad.”
It sends such shudders down his spine.
He thinks that they must all be mad.
Call me Dad, I'm only nine.

They wave their hands as off they go
and he waves back, too be polite.
Though memories will never show
and he will not live through the night.

At his grave side his family mourn,
so sorry that he went this way.
It's hard forgeting children born,
and showing them no love display.

But as they pray they should look above
and as the sun lights, sullen day.
They might see looking down with love
the personage for whom they pray.

Disease all gone, with clear mind,
the one that earlier thought them mad.
With caring heart and thoughts so kind,
the spirit of there “Dear Old Dad”.