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Dear Mr Cameron, what are you trying to do,
you are getting rid of soldiers by score.
You are turning "Good Old Blighty"
into Europe's private Loo.
and on the side you want us all to go to war.

With the cut-backs,
will they get there.  
Do we know if they can swim
                         Perhaps ask your mate OBAMA                         
may let them ride with him.

It seems that you "Prime Minister"
forget who pays your wage
You want to spend those Billions
on a brand new railway line
                                          
You will save, what, 30 minutes
which is really not an age
But like many of your policy's
you'll very likely change your mind.  

I find a piece of paper
would help you without a doubt
If the things you write seem stupid
                           when you read                                  
and the figures don't look viable
                 you could always rub them out                  
This would then leave lots of money
for the things we really need.    

Didn't anybody tell you
when you did first get the     job                                                                  ­                                                       That "for" the British people
                                   you are meant to do some good.                                  
Not to make the poor get poorer
                and be forced to go and rob .              
Should we re-employ that man
called Robin Hood.      

Get a grip I say to you,
do yourself a favour.                                                          ­                                                        Perhaps staying in this country        
you may not lose out to Labour.          

You penalize the unemployed
who cannot get a job.                        
But for the rich
you keep the taxman from their door
and for your mate the banker you
will save him a few bob.                                                             ­     
How about some time and effort
aimed a little more at the poor.  

We all know what Obama
really does expect from you,      
but remember every now and then
it's good to tell him, No.                                                              ­                 You don't have to walk behind him
doing what he wants you to.    
It would be nice if you politely
could tell him where to go.      

Also!
Brussels cannot rule
this country any longer.                                                          ­                           Who do they think they are making
all these stupid rules.          
Whilst we weaken this UK
they get stronger every day,  
do they forget we won a war
and we are far from being fools.    

I do hope "Mr Cameron"                                                         ­           
you might think about today        
and contemplate upon the issues
that I and others raise.          
Then instead of pleasing Europe
and the good old USA,                          
you might keep that job of yours and
warrant a little praise.
A poem that was included in earlier anthologies. Written when David Cameron won his first term as Prime Minister and just after the failure of the then Conservative government to take our troops into Syria after the Labour party voted them down.
I picked up that old
leather bound book
and realise the journey
as I sit here and look,

I feed on the narrative
with newly wide eyes,
I look forward to words
that will thrill and surprise.

The story progresses
as continuous phrases
set characters free
with each turn of the pages.

Personality's form
the more that I read
and the more that I see
then the more that I need.

My mind is awash
with this tale in my mind
as I continuously
leave the real world behind.

Lost in a new place,
succumbed by an age,
entranced by the images
that leap from the page.

This old leather bound book
fights a war that is won
for I cannot put it down
till this journey is done.
14th May 2015
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
A busy man, a real nice gent.
Its often said of me.
Hard working and of good intent.
I would not disagree.

My work is of such an importance.
Skilled beyond my years am I.
Requiring such diligence.
Without that, many poor could die.

Skill is gained by repetition.
Practice must be sought.
My weekend is an expedition.
Where ladies of the night are bought.

In the darkness no applause.
An operation I attend.
Lying here without her drawers.
Her life suddenly at end.

I only take the parts I need.
That’s all I ever do
I am not here to sow my seed.
To my wife I am true.

But dangers lurk round every bend.
They have it in for me.
And so this exercise must end.
So much for liberty.
4 May 2005
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
They call me Jack! A Jack the Lad
a man who likes to go out late.
I must confess that I'm a cad
and often seen in Aldegate.

Whitechapel and Spittlefield
are other locations I frequent.
Tis where I often draw my yield
and nay for that I'll not lament.

Inspired by my ill repute,
repugnant chanting of my name,
I'll seek and find a *******,
commencing to secure my fame.

Reference books cannot advise
what two skilled hands can show.
Exacting cuts when I excise,
instructing where my blade doth flow.

My first, Miss Nichols, I recall,
whom blinded by the lure of coin,
into my clutches she did fall
and she, I did indeed refine.

Chapman then I did impress
with incision so demanding.
Nothing taken to excess
an ***** now made outstanding.

Stride and Eddowes in one night
but fortune demanded I should race.
Though well presented to the light,
embarrassment is my disgrace.

My final lady played the game,
Miss Kelly whom at my insistence.
She alone recoiled my fame,
my very own Piece de Resistance.
4 May 2005
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
I wait until
Enid's old man
has left the flats

feeling a bit brave
I walk up stairs
to their flat
and knock at the door

her mother answers
and she has a black eye
and says
what you want?

I need to see Enid

what for?

it's Saturday
I want to go with her
to the flicks

flicks?
she says frowning

yes cinema
see the morning matinee

she looks past me
as if she's seen
an angel behind me

is her father around still?
she asks me

no I saw him go
just now

make sure he's not
doubling back
he does sometimes
just to be a cuss
she says

so I look over
the balcony
look into the Square

well?
she murmurs

no he's gone
he looked in a hurry
when I saw him
I say

Enid!
her mother says
in a harsh call

she turns
and gazes at me
her eyes dull
the black eye closing

what's he do  
for a side show
I say

what?
she says

your old man
what's he do
for a side show
apart from hitting
you and Enid?

ENID
she bellows

I look back at her
as cool as
a young boy can
brushing my
brown quiff of hair
and glazing over
my hazel eyes

Enid creeps out
and stares out
from beneath
her mother's arm

what is it?
Enid asks
looking at me
then up at her mother

the boy wants
to take you
to the cinema
her mother says

I can pay
I say

Enid says
can I go?

her mother sighs
don't tell your father
you've been
you know
what he's like
she says

do I have to lie
if he asks me
where I've been today?

her mother bites
her lip
slightly swollen

sure you do
I say
lie your head off
tell the schmuck anything
but the truth
I tell her
the truth
he isn't worthy of it

her mother
opens her mouth
to speak but it
remains as
a mouthed O

her mother looks
past me again
you sure he isn't
coming back?
she asks

I look over
the balcony again
no he's not
coming back
I say

ok ok
she says
and she says Enid
can go

so I wait
a few minutes outside
while Enid gets ready
and her mother
stares at me
then the sky
as she brushes her lip
and rubs her eye
closing up
like a dark plum

then Enid comes out
dressed in a blue dress  
and her hair brushed
and we walk off
down the stairs
of the flats

she's silent
but excited
and I look down
the stairs ahead
hoping her old man
isn't coming back
as he does sometimes
to catch them out
and commit more crimes.
A BOY AND GIRL AND A CINEMA DATE IN 1957 IN LONDON.
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