T h r o w n ,   n o t   o n l y   l i t e r a l l y   b u t   b a c k   i n t o  
a n o t h e r   t i m e .
I   a m   a   y o u n g   m a n   o n c e   m o r e .  
A n   e y e   w i t n e s s   t o   a   m a n   m a d e   s h r i n e .
D e a t h   w e a l d s   i t s   s i c k l e   w i t h   u n e n d i n g   s c o r e .
A r m a g e d d o n .   T h e y   d i d   s t r i v e .
W i t h o u t   p r e j u d i c e   o r   r e m o r s e .
T h a t   A u g u s t   d a y   i n   4 5 .
T h a t   s e t   t h e   W o r l d   o n   o t h e r   C o u r s e .

L i t t l e   B o y   c a m e   t o   p l a y .
D e l i v e r e d   b y   E n o l a   G a y .

N o w   a n   o l d   a n d   f r a i l   b e i n g .
R e m i n d e d   o f   t h o s e   d a y s   a t   w a r .
N e v e r   i n   w i l d e s t   n i g h t m a r e s   s e e i n g
O r   t e r r o r i s e d   f l a s h b a c k   a t   o u r   d o o r .  
L e s s o n s   o f   w a r   w e   m u s t   d e r i v e .
T h r o u g h   w i l d e s t   d r e a m s   o r   r e f l e c t i o n .
C o u l d,   n o t   c o n s i d e r ,  o r   a t   t h i s   a r r i v e .
C o u l d   n e v e r   t h i n k   o f   t h i s   c o n n e c t i o n .
  
T h e   e n t i r e   f a t e   o f   a   n a t i o n .
C o n s u m e d   b y   M a n '? s   A n n i h i l a t i o n .

T h e   p a s t   g o n e ,   r e a l i t y   o n c e   a g a i n .  
U n t i m e l y   c o n n e c t i o n   o f   T e c t o n i c   p l a t e .
E a r t h q u a k e   a n d   T s u n a m i   r e i g n
D e v o u r   u s   w h i l s t   w e   l i v e   a n d   w a i t .  
H a b i t a t i o n ,   d e s t r u c t i o n ,   a b o m i n a t i o n   a l l  
a r o u n d .
T o r r e n t s   t r a n s p i r e   a t t a c k s   e x p r e s s   .  
C o n c e s s i o n s   o f   a   D e v i l s   p l a y g r o u n d .    
W i t h o u t   c o n s c i e n c e .   W i t h o u t   d i g r e s s

T o r n   a p a r t   i n   d e v a s t a t i o n .  
C o n s u m e d   b y   N a t u r e s   A n n i h i l a t i o n .

T h e   t o l l   e x t r e m e ,   t h e   c o s t   i m m e n s e .
C o n f u s i o n   e n - m a s s .
D i s i l l u s i o n m e n t   f r e q u e n t l y ,   s o   i n t e n s e .
W o n d e r i n g   i f   t h i s   w i l l   e v e r   p a s s .
W i l l   w e   e v e r   s e e   r e m i s s i o n .
M o m e n t s   c h a n g e d   d r a m a t i c a l l y .
A l l   f i l m e d   i n   g l o r i o u s   H i g h   D e f i n i t i o n .
A n d   s c r e e n e d   f o r   a l l   t h e   W o r l d   t o   s e e .
  
T h i s   P l a n e t .   T h i s   W o r l d .   T h i s   E a r t h   w e  
k n o w .  
S u r e l y   o u r   m o s t   f o r m i d a b l e   f o e .

Josiah Jack
never uttered a sound
when they dragged him away
from the scene.
when his poor body
was eventually found,
the treatment endured,
had been mean.

With no tongue in his head
they had left him for dead.

With a month
on his back,
he did indeed
contemplate.
Only sin
“he was black”
hence forth
this weary state.

They attacked in the night,
hooded and white.

All in all
he was
lucky
to be
breathing at all,
all because
he was plucky,
all because
he stood tall.

A ***** they said
should lower his head.

Were they hooded
for fear?
Were they hooded
in shame?
Most likely,
once covered,
they could hide
of their name.

If things were so right,
why hide out of sight?

Bravery isn't
a word for the ****,
Cowards,
this word comes to mind.
Bravery comes
when there's only one man,
not one
with ten more stood behind.

I will strike in a pack
with someone watching my back.

Their plan
was to ****,
this man
Josiah Jack.
Perhaps they
get a thrill
when someone
cannot fight back.

They get real loud
when they join with the crowd.

Josiah
knew well
that if he
raised a hand
his kin folk
would feel hell
from this
unruly band.

So he did not fight
but gave in to his plight.

They think
they were hidden
beneath that
white hood,
Josiah's hearing
is sound
and his
memory is good.

So when things are forgot,
he will take of his lot.

That's exactly
what happened,
as they lay
in their bed.
The flames hurled
with fury
the sky
filled with red.

This man barbequed them like fish on a rack
and no one put it down to Josiah Jack.

I walked through town last week
and a stranger came and spoke to me.
I agreed with many things he said
but I didn't know who he could be.

Interred for spouting to the crowd
is what I read in the daily news.
Religious twaddle said reports
so they locked him up for different views.

He spoke about his fathers house,
he also spoke about the rights for all.
His words were guiding us to follow,
that without our father we would fall.

Holy men from other values
refused to hear what he would say.
Degredation they threw forth
so keen to lock this man away.

I was reminded of the past,
perhaps you might recall this day
when something really similar
happened to he, to whom we now pray.

I don't think he was sent from God
but to quieten him they were intense
and rather than let us use our own minds
they kicked this fellow off the fence.

I know he believed of what he said
and to spread his words is what he tried.
Perhaps this man was just a nut
but was this reaction justified?

U p   w i t h   t h e   b i r d i e s .
O u t   w i t h   t h e   l a r k s .
W a l k i n g   t h e   s t r e e t s .
T r e k k i n g   t h e   p a r k s .

F i n d i n g   a   r a t h e r .
S u i t a b l e   p l a c e .
B e g g i n g   f o r   m o n e y .
T h i s   i s   m y   d i s g r a c e .

N o   h o m e   I   c a n   s p e a k   o f .
U n l e s s   I   b r e a k   s o m e   l o c k s .
S o   m y   e v e n i n g s   I   s p e n d .
I n   t h i s   o l d   c a r d b o a r d   b o x .

A t   t i m e s   I   g e t   h o m e s i c k .
M o s t   n i g h t s   I   s o b .
W h a t   h a v e   I   b e c o m e .
A   d o w n   a n d   o u t   s l o b .

I   d r e a m t   o f   t h i s   E n g l a n d .
T h i s   p l a c e   t h e y   w o u l d   g i v e .
M o n e y   t o   s p e n d .
A   n i c e   p l a c e   t o   l i v e .

P i c k i n g   u p   b u t - e n d s .
W h e n   I   w a n t   a   s m o k e .
M y   t o i l e t s   a   b u s h .
T h i s   i s n ? t   a   j o k e .

I   f o u g h t   t o   g e t   h e r e .  
T h i s   l a n d   t h a t   I   s e e .
N o   o t h e r   p l a c e .
W h e r e   I   w a n t e d   t o   b e .

T h o s e   r a c i s t   c o m m e n t s .
W a t e r   o f f   a   d u c k s   b a c k .
D r u g   d e a l e r s   a r e   r i f e  a n d
P o l i c i n g   i s   s l a c k .

B u t   w h e n   y o u r   i l l e g a l .
Y o u   c a n t   p i c k   u p   t h e   p h o n e .
Y o u r   p r o b l e m s   y o u   h a v e  
  y o u  m u s t  d e a l   w i t h   a l o n e .

I   w i s h   I   h a d   n e v e r .
B e l i e v e d   a l l   t h e   c r a p .
T h e n   I   w o u l d n ? t   b e   h e r e .
I n   t h i s   a w f u l   t r a p .

I   l o o k   e v e r y d a y .
F o r   a   w o m a n   t o   s h a r e .
T o   m a k e   m e   a l l   l e g a l .
T h e n   I   s h a l l   n o t   c a r e .

W a l k   a r o u n d  h a p p y .
N o   m o r e   t o   s o b .
G o   w h e r e   I   l i k e .
G e t  a  r e a l   j o b .

I f   t h i s   d o e s   c o n t i n u e.
T h e   s t r e e t s   I   m u s t   r o a m .
I ' l l  r o b   a   r i c h   w h i t e   m a n .
B u y   a   t i c k e t   h o m e .

A n d   n e v e r   a g a i n .
W i l l   I   e v e r   r e t u r n .
A   l e s s o n   i n   l i f e .
I   h a v e   f a s t   c o m e  t o  l e a r n .

Life is a pantomime
light hearted and plain.
It's behind you they shout
but it's all part of the game.

The villain is booed
by the on-looking crowd
but there is nobody there
when you decide to turn round.

You think that you know,
you think you will solve,
but the answers are gone
when at last you revolve.

Is it the king?
Or perhaps that old aunt?
Who's got two ugly daughters
who would tear you apart.

The boy with the buttons,
is he evil or good?
Or is it that carved out puppet
with that long nose of wood?

Who is the goody?
Who is it best to know?
Well we really can't say
till the end of the show.

Life is no pantomime
not so light hearted and plain.
Full of caring and good
but also vile and insane.

No one shouts he's behind you.
Villains do not get booed.
You cannot always see them
as you're plied and you're wooed.

They are not always ugly.
they may never seem nauseous
so the only advice here
is to always be cautious.

Trust takes time to endear.
Trust is something to earn.
Trust is something that you need
very quickly to learn.

Never hand it to quickly
to anyone in the line
cause we all need to realise,
life is no pantomime.

I have a little black book
and in it I do write
the thoughts that scramble round my mind
throughout the day and night.

I ponder on most everything,
my mind is like a drain.
Where everything just washes down
however so inane.

I don't know why I think like this,
it just springs up as thought.
The silliest of images
in my mind does distort.

Sometimes I think I'm going mad,
but still I write it in.
Each word is in my little black book
but should be in a bin.

Perhaps I hope that one day
I might write something good.
The real hope is that one day,
that I really could.

But just for now I'll write it out
these words I will entrap
and keep them in my little black book
even though it's mostly crap.

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.

I have so many images
inside my head,
putting pencil to paper
and scraping the lead.
In case they disappear
got to write them down fast
before the idea fades
and the moment has passed.
When something appears
it is such a relief
so I grab it and run
just like a sneak thief.
When it's safely on paper,
It is finally wrote
then to another verse
my mind I can devote.
Then the process restarts
as I walk through my mind
searching all of my files,
hoping that I can find
that positive word,
that difficult phrase,
that momentous sentence
before my mind does erase.
So if you are like me and
your memory runs amok
then perhaps you should carry
a little note book.
Then you'll never forget
If you do get caught short
and you always will catch
That most elusive of thought

Live for the moment,
live for the now.
Stop wondering when,
stop wondering how!

Don't live your life
wrapped up in a shroud.
You only live once,
so live it out loud.

We worry about dying,
We live for the pill.
If it's going to happen,
then happen it will.

So go and enjoy life,
don't become a health boffin.
You'll have plenty of time,
when you get in that coffin.

Life is a road
that we all must walk.
Sing for the hell of it,
talk just to talk.

Everything's possible,
just take that first
step into freedom
don't wait for the hearse.

We're all going to die
as is so often said.
But don't just lie down
in the flowery bed.

Go and get out there
and do take a chance.
Spit into the wind,
or do that daft dance.

Make love more often,
smile at the girl.
Find whatever turns you on
and give it a whirl.

So live with the living,
don't curl up and rot.
Make the most of each day
of this one life you've got.

Unsecured mind-set lashes its core, choosing to ally itself to that of no concern or thought. All sequence we shall herald as noble backlash. Blame shall rest with death of the innocent, for this is where excuse can be rectified Or rather that of fraudulent justification laid before another’s feet.

Insight to rise as we rise to insight, no notice shall be given and no action shall not be undertaken. Vandalisms recruitment takes it course. Internet conscription courses silently through hardy flex. Telecommunications providers enlisted to contrive location as we plan Google’s map attack.

The aim is that of procurement, not for freedom or righteousness, rather that of avarice and self contentment. We shall shop till we drop this eve and at much better than discounted prices. Personal retributions shall also conceal themselves beneath this direst of banner.

Filthy alignments will almost with abandonment unite in evil cohesion. Mass attack at fragmented locations will oppress any and all endeavours to quell this foulest of foul. He who hide his face away is free to loot another day, this seems the lyrical trend that thief and sinner does take this night .

Untold expectance by unlawful propagator is of a world that owes, favours him above others. He feels righteous that he should prevail in this life before his fellow man. It is of no concern to him that others may have more worthy an approach. It matters not what they may suffer.

If for no other reason to doubt he who professes to have nothing, to be cast out by the state and therefore be free to invoke retribution, why should he with nought, cast dereliction in his own manor? Why destroy what you have not got? Why condemn yourself to live in an unliveable state?

Such misdemeanour unto ones self is surely call for psychiatric assessment and asylums involvement? Here now stands a creature pursed to explicate erroneous act for appropriate content and expect audience to quell their disgust and rapturously give applause. I think not.

For not only did thievery portray itself on our streets this and other nights that followed, also violence, arson and ****** were carried along with it, like a leaf in the wind. Families lost what they had so long worked and strived to gain, watching helplessly as combustion condemned their habitat to broken ash.

****** drew its breath on more than a single occasion. Is this the result of political unrest, that is what they would want us to pronounce, to show reason that this is against the masses, such excuse may then be strewn as a just intention.

This is not the reality though in this case it is a the likely truth that rat endeavoured to crawl above ground and spread its pox amongst us, infecting devastation on good peoples lives as it did in centuries past.

Blistering feet, worn down to the bone.
Had to make my escape, they won’t leave us alone.
They beat and they whipped me to the edge of my life.
Even beating my children and ****** my wife.

If we retaliate it worsens our pain
and after they beat us, they beat us again.
They believe in their hearts that we are really no good
and to die for their cause is to do what we should.

People are Dying all over the place
but to those that are killing we don't have a face.
Our only defence is how fast we can run
as we try to elude where their bullets have gone.

So we run for our life and lots do not get away
this most ultimate price is the cost they will pay,
so I will walk to the end trying to find a new life
away from this horror, this turmoil, this strife.

Find somewhere that’s good and leave this hell far behind.
Somewhere I can mix with those peaceful and kind.
Where I walk down the street and I don’t have to cry
to the point of a gun just because I annoy.

Just for being a man, Just for being alive.
Just for wanting to not just to have to survive.
So I’m leaving this land, the land of my kind
and all of my possessions I am leaving behind.

In the hope for a place where we can at last find some peace
not ****** and hate from some elected thief.
Where starvation and drought is not worsened by threat
and the chances of living does not edge on a bet.

Where the toss of a coin can see a man dead
and a child will die for the lack of some bread.
I can no longer live, I think that I'd sooner die
so I'm walking away, no longer living a lie.

So off I will be, bare heat and the cold
just having to travel with the things I can hold.
With package of morsels I might struggle to live.
We have nothing to own, we have nothing to give.

So my options are easy with this change I am trying.
Either get busy living or get busy dying.
Before me this journey so dangerous and fraught.
It will not be easy, It will not be short.

But tread on I must this is all I can say
and hope all goes to plan, trying not to delay.
Searching this World for a place to be part
and try to forget all the pain in my heart.

But first this long journey a long walk in sight
I will hide through the day and walk through the night.
The losses of life will with time become past
and if happiness comes then I hope it will last.

Do you remember me old lady or am I missing from your mind.
You used to be my mother if you only could recall
but you sit here in this armchair humming tunes that no-one knows
and you can't walk without assistance, should you fall.

I've been sitting here for hours and you utter not a word,
just looking into the realms of space, what should I do?
There is no-one in this place with whom I've got a chance to chat
so I suppose I might as well stay here and chat to you.

I watch as you eat liquid meals that spill all down your front,
I mop morsels off of your face with paper towel
and all I have for this attention is to hear you passing wind
whilst your only ****** expression is a scowl.

We never ever got on, hence you living in this home
for you never did agree with me not one singular time.
Whatever I did do or say was almost always wrong
and you never bothered with me in your prime.

So I don't know why I care for you I must be totally nuts
I know you wouldn't want me here not even for a bet.
So I must have feelings for you floating somewhere in my mind
and I know that there are many things I really should forget.

Things sometime flash before me so brief they move that quick
and in all these little glimpses that must have come from God above,
they rekindle tender moments, when you were kind and so sincere
and provoke that once upon a time there must have been some love.

So then with these thoughts in my mind I will really like to say
that I am sorry for the loathing thoughts I have gathered through the years.
I will do my best to make these remaining days that little more
and will care for you my mother and keep you in my prayers.

J a c k   t h e   R i p p e r ,  
A K A ,  
T h e   L e a t h e r   A p r o n
r o a m s   t h i s   p l a c e .
A n d   h e r e ' s   a    g e n t  
d e a r   S i r   o r   M a ' a m  
w i t h   w h o m   y o u  
w o n ' t   w a n t  " f a c e   t o   f a c e " .

T o   m e e t   o r   g r e e t  
o n  a  q u i e t   s t r e e t  
m a y   n o t   b e  
s u c h   a   w i s e   i n t a k e .
F o r  i f   y o u   s h o u l d  
I  t h i n k  t h a t  y o u    
w i l l   r e a l i s e   a   b i g   m i s t a k e .

H e  i s   w e l l   r e n o w n  
b y   S c o t l a n d   Y a r d  
f o r   b e i n g   q u i t e  
a   d a n g e r o u s   l a d .
F o r   s u r e l y   h e ' l l  
m a r k   y o u r   c a r d  
a n d   o n c e   h e   h a s  
y o u   w o n t   b e   g l a d .

H e   w a l k s   t h e   t o w n  
b e f o r e   y o u r   e y e s ,  
n o - o n e   l i v i n g  
k n o w s   h i s   f a c e .
P e r h a p s   h e   i s  
o n e   o f   t h e   b o y s  
o r   s e l l s   f r u i t  
i n   t h e   M a r k e t   P l a c e .

H e   m a y  h a v e   m e a s u r e d  
y o u   f o r   a   s u i t .  
C u t   y o u r   h a i r  
o r   s h a v e d   y o u r   c h i n .
O r   t a u g h t   y o u r   c h i l d  
t o   p l a y   t h e   f l u t e .  
O r   l i s t e n e d  
a s   y o u   c o n f e s s   a   s i n .  

B u r i e d   a   m e m b e r  
o f   y o u r   c l a n .  
O r   b a k e d   y o u r   b r e a d .  
A   f a m i l y   m a n .  
T h e   s h o p   k e e p e r  
w h o   s e r v e s   y o u r   n e e d
b y   s e l l i n g   y o u  
y o u r   f a m i l y   f e e d .  

Y o u r   B r o t h e r   i n   l a w  
o r   U n c l e   s u c h .  
T h e   h u s b a n d  
t h a t   y o u   l o v e   s o   m u c h .
T h e   l o c a l   b o b b y  
o n   t h e   b e a t .  
H e   c o u l d   b e  
a n y o n e  y o u   m e e t .

P e r h a p s   i t s   s a f e r  
t o   s t a y   h o m e ,  
h a v e   n o - o n e   t h e r e
j u s t   b e   a l o n e .  
H o l d   y o u r   b r e a t h  
w h e n   d o o r   d o e s   k n o c k .  
K e e p i n g  y o u r s e l f  s a f e  
b e h i n d   t h e   l o c k .

N e v e r   l e a v i n g ,  
s e c u r e     i n s i d e ,  
w i t h   e v e r y   n o i s e  
j u s t   r u n   a n d   h i d e .
O r   t a k e   y o u r   c h a n c e
o u t   o n   t h e   s t r e e t  
b u t   f e a r   o f   e v e r y o n e   y o u   m e e t .

S o   k e e p   y o u r   e y e s  
a n d   e a r s   a w a r e .  
A n   a w k w a r d   l o o k  
a   w e a r y   s t a r e .
F o r   a l l   c o u l d   b e  
s e t   i n   h i s   s i g h t  
w h e n   w e   w a l k   o u t  
  i n t o   t h e   n i g h t .

P e r h a p s   a   c h a n c e  
w e   h a v e   t o   t a k e  
i f   f r e e d o m   i s  
t h e   c h o i c e  y o u   m a k e .
J u s t   h o p e  
a s   y o u r   l i f e   d r a g s   a l o n g   ,  
t h a t  M r   R i g h t ' s
n o t   M r   W r o n g .

Perhaps I should have known better, after all it is against the law to stalk a person, but I was overwhelmed with her. She danced so erotically and I couldn't take my eyes off her in the nightclub.

Her hair was raven black, with pale skin, blood red lips and a face that screamed perfection. Attired in a red leather jacket covering a skin-tight black dress that moulded the impeccable figure that lay beneath. I didn't intend to follow her. I just hovered behind her almost dragged along by her scent.

I watched as she entered the building and just couldn't help looking up as I saw the light in her flat illuminate the full length window. My mouth watered as she undressed provocatively, eyes glazed as she removed her clothes.

She undressed almost as if she was aware that I was watching and seemed content to continue with such entertainment. I could quite clearly see her clad in her bra and *******, suspenders and high heeled shoes. When she looked out of the window and beckoned me with her finger I nearly **** a brick but I was unable to stop myself from entering the building.

I do not remember walking up the stairs but it seems that I must have because I was soon standing opposite the open door, the entrance to her apartment. I followed the scent of this ***** like a dog on heat, led on by animal lust and entered the property. I didn't notice the door closing as I walked hypnotically up the hallway. Glimpses of leering faces from passageway doors never penetrated into my psyche as I continued. I was deaf to the footsteps that trailed behind me as I haplessly followed my desire.

I shivered with delight as I entered the room to my voluptuous temptress, watching in awe as she rhythmically seduced me with her sway. She danced around me like a tigress and I was thrilled to the core as she enveloped me in her arms. I was delirious with pleasure as she feasted on the blood that flowed through my arteries. So high was I with gratification that I wasn't even aware of her minions who had indulged themselves in this banquet, even though I was indeed the main course.

Now I am one of those minions. My first death has seen me walking alongside the vile, feeding on the stupidity and wantonness that is mankind.

My attention goes back as I reflect on the life I once had. I mean, I was no angel but I don't think that I deserved to die in such circumstance. I followed her like the fool I am, no thought of anything other than ****** gratification. Yes! I can place the prognosis of my death into four little letters, L.U.S.T.

With enthusiastic abandonment I created my own demise, everything that I once had is lost: My family, friendships, career prospects and my life, and all because I followed the stirrings of my manhood rather than one of common sense.

I miss all of the ingredients that were my past and travel a new time of darkness in a world that is embellished by the night. I will never again view the wonder of the rising sun, unable to walk into the light of the earth like I once did. I am a chained animal that is no longer able to roam with my own kind lest I should feel the inclination to feast off their flesh and blood like a cannibalistic predator.
I am a Vampire.

I can not imagine tearing at the cadaver of my fellow human beings, such idea's bring me to the brink of agonizing sickness in my mind but although I am no longer in the realm of the living I am fully aware that this is the course I must take to ensure my own survival. Knowing full well that when I cross this threshold that my humanity will surely be gone forever. I will then be as those with whom I acknowledge as beasts of the night.

I will not, however leave them to walk my path, they will be incapable of returning into the night as have I. I know that to feed is something that I must do so I have made a decision that, although it  goes against the will of God and man, in some little way It will be meagre attempt at some kind of righteousness.

My prey is close bye and from above I can feel the sins that scream out of his soul. I do not know how it should be that I can see the despicable acts that this man has done but I surely can. I must **** to feed my thirst but if this be the case then I will choose only those of abhorrent character to feast upon. At least I can guarantee that my sins will in resolve to help those of tormented mind. I shall see this as my own form of retribution for those whom may have suffered at the hands of my meal.

I tear his throat viciously and with aim to cause pain. Each screaming moment that he lives will be a tribute to the young life that he did disfigure. I will revenge those who cannot avenge themselves. I will be the first Vampire Vigilante and thus attempt to make the world a better place. Blood spatters every surrounding surface. This man will never hurt anyone else ever again.

Violation is the game this evening.

when I walk down the road
what is it  others see.
Are their smiles complimentary
or are they laughing at me.
I have done much to warrant this,
caused bad thoughts to flourish.
So now I plant good intensions
and hope these new seeds will nourish.
May they grow like a blossom,
these seeds in their mind
and just to show that i've changed
I shall be extra kind.
I shall show them the hatred
that once surged through me
is now no longer flowing
and if they can but see
they will notice a change.
See the old ways have gone.
They can witness first hand
the bad deeds are all done.
I think it will be hard
because I've made many cry
but with a new look on life
I'm determined to try.
Perhaps within time
others might come to feel
that this is the new me.
This change is the real deal.
But wether or not
that they ever forgave
I will show to myself
and take good to my grave.
I hope when they look
in the future at me
a more prettier picture
is something they might see.
That they may, in the long run
let there hatred depart,
allow some small piece of me
to get into their heart.
I hope that they will see
good intent from this guy.
do not see me as evil
but as he who did try.
That is high on my wish list
of how this story ends
but til then I'll continue
to make my amends.
But as I contemplate
what it was that they shun,
I'll try so hard to copy
what many others have done.
By making a change
of themselves for the good
they became better people
but don't be misunderstood.
It can be just as hard
to turn you'r life about
as it is for the good-guys
who wrestle with doubt
and the reason is this
it can be so hard to live
when it's easier to hate
than it is - to forgive.

Alone in the workhouse. Is where she gave birth.
The starch Parish Surgeon. A Drunken old Nurse.
The cries of a boy child. In her arms did he lie.
Gently kissing his forehead. Before she did die.

Not to be married. Mentioned the Nurse.
Was not to be heard of. Almost a curse.
No Father to speak of. Illegitimate offspring.
His Mother a corpse. With no wedding ring.

Without relations. Brought up with force.
Grown as a captive. Poverties course.
Life in the workhouse. Juvenile offenders.
Selfish providers. Fat cat Pretenders.

"Mrs Mann", Overseer. An hierarchy lie.
Starves and abuses. Would let them all die.
Nine years of age. Each picking a straw.
The boy stumbles forward. Asking for more.

Gruel knocked aside. The fat man, Bumble.
Shocked and alarmed. Off top shelf does stumble.
Dragged by the scruff. Out in the snow.
Sowerberry’s undertakers is where he will go.

Childish look. Innocent way.
To walk at the head of the hearse, they will pay.
Treated unfair. Leading the dead.
Next to a coffin they position his bed.

Insecure Claypole. With nasty remark.
Temper unleashed. Thrown into the dark.
Overwhelming silence inviting a tear.
By morning, escape. Will leave this room clear.

Seventy mile trek. Things look so bleak.
In London he lands. Dejected and weak.
The first friendly face stands counting his loot.
All wide eyed and fresh. In whistle and flute.

"Jack Dawkins the name. But you call me Dodger.
Need somewhere to stay, cause I know this old Codger."
Old Fagin insists to offer him bread.
A warm place to live. A snug place to bed.

Next mornings instruction as Fagin explains.
We live by our wits. Rely on our brains.
Its not thieving we do. We take it by slight.
If they wanted to keep it, why leave it in sight?

Bet and Nancy drop by. For a drink they are glad.
Showing concern for this down trodden lad.
Oliver’s training goes on for days.
Each time he succeeds is allotted with praise.

The day that gave Oliver oh so much tension.
When he met the man he had heard no one mention.
Gruff, rough and evil, A man no one likes.
With Bulls-eye his dog. The man known as Sikes.

The day comes around, when Oliver goes out. With Charley and Dodger, their isn’t much doubt.
The two older boys get the items they sought. Though in all of the turmoil Oliver’s caught.

Brought before Fang, the court Magistrate. Innocent plea onto deaf ears migrate.
Last minute witness brings light forth to shine. On innocent captive in front of said shrine.
The message is out, the crooks are all fraught. Nancy is allotted to spy in the court.
The boy is acquitted. Nothing is told. Nancy relays that they haven’t been sold.
The kindly old victim shows pity on boy.A quiet misdemeanour, a look in his eye.
A child of worth, should not be alone. Mr Brownlow decides to take Oliver home.
For the first time in ever, contentment and love.Poured onto said urchin from those up above.
A picture looks down on this scene from the wall. Similarity so true, most evident for all.
But outside a danger does start to lament. The signs coming out from a previous event.
Sikes and his lady hide out in the shade. Waiting in patience for mistake to be made.
A simple small errand would easily portray. That Oliver Twist is not of bad way.
Mr Grimwig suggests that the boy should be bound. With a parcel of books and the sum of five pound.
Brownlow agrees but his friend will soon gloat. Of the loss of said books and the crisp five pound note.
Surely as hell the time is upon. When onto the streets the child is soon gone.
But Grimwig still boasts that the boy they did trust. Was simply a fraud and just earning a crust.
The kindly old man does have to agree. That Oliver Twist is about on a spree.
Held up and imprisoned by this awful pair. Terrified boy removed to old Fagin’s lair.
Bill Sikes decides that the boy needs a blow. Nancy steps in, she will not stoop so low.
Be satisfied Bill for you have ruined his life. Condemned the poor boy to an history of strife.
Is that not enough to cast onto him. He has been through the mill, now he’s out on a limb.
Brownlow decides to post a reward. For information on the loss of his young ward.
Bumble arrives for the five guinea toll. As he opens his mouth the lies they do roll.

Oliver is taken, carted away.
By Nancy and Bill to the place where they lay.
No notice is taken to the tears he will sob.
For Sikes plans to take the small boy on a job.

Shepperton town is the place they will go.

To silence the boy a gun he will show.
Darkness will produce where his sights are set on.
A quick in and out and with goods they’ll be gone.

Toby Crackit and Sikes are partners in Crime.
Through a small window will make the boy climb.
But plans all go wrong and they do not get a jot.
Although in the event the poor lad will be shot.

Old Bumble is called to the workhouse for wine.
With widowed matron intending to dine.
Things interrupted the matron must go.
To visit old Sally on deathbed below.

The dying old woman does make good a wrong.
As she pours out a death persons song.
She tells Mrs Corney about a gold locket.
That she in the past had decided to pocket.

Inside it gave clues to someone’s true worth.
As owner was dying whilst still giving birth.
To a small sickened child it could of helped save.
Returned him to family as she went to her grave.

Three Cripples a pub where to Fagin will fast. A man named of Monks will throw light on the past.
The story of Oliver’s plight he does pitch. Not knowing the boy has been left in a ditch.
Giles and Brittle two servants regale. Remembering the robbery they did make fail.
An embellished story that has one slight hitch. The bloodied young man will make their story switch.
Doctor and Constable soon to arrive. While injured is taken upstairs to survive.
Upon seeing Oliver, Miss Rose does exclaim. That burglar and boy are not one and the same.
Officer’s Blather and Doth examine the scene. Oliver soon will explain his regime.
Miss Maylie house owner and her niece Miss Rose. Will not let the boy to a prison expose.
Losberne the surgeon and Rose take some time. For ways to conceal the boy from the crime.
Giles and Brittle are forced to retake. Admitting to Officers that they made a mistake.
Oliver’s life takes an healthy uplift. And lady and niece are so glad of this gift.
Tender care and love, make this young lad at home. Never again need to feel so alone.
Losberne takes Oliver to London to see. Where Brownlow and Bedwin could possibly be.
Upon their journey the news they do find. The persons in question have left England behind.
Without any warning poor Miss Rose gets sick. Oliver runs to get Losberne so quick.
On his return as he walks down the lane. He comes on a man who is writhing in pain.
Having retrieved some assistance for man. Returns towards home just as fast as he can.
Wanting to make certain of good news for Rose. Memory of the man in the lane simply goes.
Maylie’s sons Giles and Harry attend. Harry wants Miss Rose as more than a friend.
Whilst Harry is aiming for fortune and fame. Miss Rose has a sensitive mark on her name.
Although the misdeed was no crime of her own. Her parents wrongs will not leave her alone.
Harry is aiming at Prime Minister. So marriage beneath him would cause quite a stir.
With love in his heart the relentless Harry. Tells Miss Rose once more that he does want to Marry.
Although after this time he will not ask again. A tearful lady does have to refrain.
Oliver wakes up in shock from a sleep. Whilst at the window two men they do peep.
Fagin and other man, run off for their shame. Memories rekindled. The man in the lane.
Giles and Harry soon at Oliver’s aid. Searching the grounds but no trace can be made.
Away from the scene things come to an head. Old Bumble and Corney it seems have been wed.
The matron tells husband about what she’s learned. About the dead woman, money could be earned.
Chance meeting with Monks Bumble does make. To meet this caped man his new wife he does take.
For twenty five pounds a deal is made. She passes the goods for which she has been paid.
The locket from Sally, she did take and hold. Inside of locket a ring made of gold.
Inscribed on the inside the man Monks saw there. The name of Agnes and two locks of hair.
Inclined is the man, evidence must go. Weighted and thrown into rivers own flow.
Sikes is in fever and sweat it does shine. As Fagin arrives to deliver some wine.
Fagin replies he does not think it funny. The sickened Sikes still demands from him money.
Fagin takes Nancy back to his hideaway. To get Sikes the money he must indeed pay.
A visitor arrives, two men speak alone. Inquisitive Nancy can hear their drone.
Whatever she heard commits her to see and knock on the front door of Mrs Maylie.
Admitting to Miss Rose so that she should know. Who kidnapped the boy from Mr Brownlow.
She explains what it is she heard from the other. That Monks is indeed poor Oliver’s brother.
Oliver later is out for a treat. He spots Mr Brownlow out on the street.
The young man relates what he saw unto friends. Mr Giles and Miss Rose to Brownlow attend.
Oliver is allowed a visit to see. Brownlow and Bedwin who don’t disagree.
The story from Nancy is passed onto both. To keep it from Oliver they all swear an oath.
The idea to see Nancy would be a vantage. So visit they must, upon London Bridge.
Plans are drawn up things are in sight. The deadline is Sunday. The time is midnight.
Sowerberrie Robbed, Claypole the crook. To London a journey. The police he should duck.
A meeting with Fagin does help to define. The shaking of hands as this union align.
With Dodger locked up the need for a new. Association, by joining the crew.
First on the agenda a visit to court. To view on the sentence that Dodger has bought.
The sentence is in, result deportation. For Dodger a blow, Fagin some irritation.
Fagin tells Noah he will give him one pound. To latch on to Nancy and follow her around.
The midnight meeting from shadows perceived. Of talk about Monks who is not too relieved.
Spying for gentry Nancy will announce. When Monks will attend at that old ale house.
Idea as such, he will be forced to declare. The truth about all he has worked for and where.
Sikes is informed of Nancy’s concern. Anger and hatred through him will burn.
When he returns home, throws the girl onto bed. Lifts up his stick and beats Nancy dead.
Sikes will flee London the following day but tries to drown Bulls-eye who could give him away.
Brownlow captures Monks, taking him to his home. After constant question his cover is blown.
The secret of Monks they were soon to discover. Real name Edward Leeford they then did uncover.
His father he told was forced into marriage. With woman with whom he had tried to disparage.
This loveless union for the father was coarse. So he left but was not to secure a divorce.
Agnes Fleming, this lady became his only affection. The two of them seemingly lost their direction.
As a result of this loving affair. A woman alone with unborn child to care.
Fagin and Noah by police are detained. Though Sikes and his freedom still they remained.
Held up alone at his iniquitous den. Out of the way of all other men.
Bates he does follow, Bulls-eyehe will track. Calling on others to help him attack.
Murderer Sikes is forced now to flee. For the ****** he did to his poor Nancy.
He uses the rooftop with avoiding intent. Hoping that crowds will soon give up, relent.
Using a rope to air his escape. About his person the rope he will drape.
High up on rooftop Sikes does his trek. With rope still entwined in a loop around his neck.
A slip as he ran caused a rooftile to loose. Effecting in Sikes with his head in this noose.
Onlookers can see this of this man that they dread. Asphyxiated. Hanging stone dead.
They say what it is that made this man die. Was caused by seeing into Nancy’s eye.
That her ghost came along and did have its way. Making Bill Sikes forever pay.
Even though this story we cannot prove. For many a persons minds this does indeed sooth.
A Letter its told was found by another. Proving to us to be Edwards mother.
Destroying both a Will and letter. Ensuring that Edwards life will be better.
Agnes’s father found out when she left. Became broken heart and soon to bereft.
His shame and honour were both denied. Accelerated greatly the time when he died.
Poor little sister is taken we see. By good Samaritan lady named Mrs Maylie.
Bringing this child up as her own. Miss Rose as she is now, to us be it known.
Bumble and his wife confess. To their dealings in this mess.
Concealing to Oliver’s history. Never again, office be held by he.
Harry’s makes change of his life’s employ. Prime Ministers aim he will deny.
And thus open another direction. To marry her of his hearts affection.
Fagin is sentenced for all of his crimes. The Gallows imposed for his evil times.
Oliver will feel a need to beset. Fagin for proof of his legitimate
Noah is pardoned, excluded his time. For his testimonie about Fagin’s crime.
Monks travels by ship to the new world. It isn't to long until his life is unfurled.
His wicked ways again he will try. Imprisoned, eventually this is where he will die.
Oliver becomes the adopted son. Brownlow a father does also become.
Miss Rose as aunt that will often frequent. To see Olivers life gaining so much betterment,
Life now to all will be a good friend.
This story is formally now at an end.

Knees buckled under his huge frame.
Words emerging from the man in red were
inaudible, indistinct
unable to focus or navigate direction,
incapable to comprehend
or follow verbal instruction.
In spite of the instruction
the little man still contributed.

“Simon Michael”

Words wafted around the courtroom,
unfamilier, verilly a different language.
He felt like one would who was
surrounded by a foreign tongue.
He could not comprehend,
grasp the meaning of this slow motion droning.
He could however see the time.

The clock on the kitchen wall.
Twelve minutes past three.
He was heading outside,
escaping,
he had to get away from her.

Perpetual
Constant
Bellowing
On and on and on and on.

Arms raised
for protection
from constant
slapping and punching.

At thirteen minutes past three
she lay in a crumpled heap
on the hard stone tiles
of the cold kitchen floor.
Her face was split in two
encircled in graduating crimson.

One minute to change a life.
One minute victim,
now, Assassin.
One minute of blind anger
and a life taken!

“You will be taken from here
to a place of execution.
You will be hung by the neck
until you are dead.”

Such was the heraldry of your being.
You stood before those who were of lower standing as you viewed them,
appointed oneself upward through controversial means, non of which were worthy of commendation. Corruption rose you to dizzy heights and watched as you violated the lives of others.
The lawful way is inconsistent and trust, honesty and goodness are words flaunted by your immoral and malicious demonstration. For ones own ends you walked the walk.
Now become by expiration, death should hold no surprises for one so foul.
The underworld is your new domicile and untold pain and torment are your future. Across the Styx, Charon will deliver you unto me. Watch with care the affliction of those minions that seek exoneration below the black wash. Purgatory however is beyond any reach that will veil itself to you.
Your appointment is of a somewhat personal nature to me and along with myself and eternity you will wish life had leant you on another path.

The man said look there
and the skies went red,
He pointed directly
as the many fell dead.

Is this now his quiet
words added in.
The legacy from
a world full of sin.

A long, long, long,
time ago it is said.
Even before humanity
ever raised it's head.

The world had a soul,
the tempo was nice.
In fact it was
a real paradise.

Simple creatures knew
that life was rough.
They also knew when
enough was enough.

And although they
sometimes had to ****
it was just to survive.
Never for the thrill.

That curse came later
and when it began
the name of this curse,
the arrival of man.

And so it has gone
millennia has past
and the world that we've ruined
is not going to last.

So here it starts,
plagues on the street.
And people are falling
down dead at my feet.

Trying to run,
driving their car
but with nowhere to go
they will not get to far.

They mistreated this planet
they maligned this place
and now this planet earth
is looking them in the face.

I hope I would not be afraid
should suddenly I meet my maker
he to whom I’ve often prayed.
Our Deity, our creator.

The questions I would want to ask,
why starvation of the poor?
Why hatred scores religious task?
Why some have less and some have more?

Why folk find hatred in their mind?
Why colour sparks such bigotry?
Why some use faith to be unkind?
Why others must fight to be free?

Why governments detest their own?
Why ****** indiscriminately?
Why more is thought of overthrown?
Why no thoughts go to us and we?

Why would there be a third world?
Why are we all not one?
Why love cannot be unfurled?
Why we don’t miss them till their gone?

These questions and so many more
are in my mind to ask.
Just to remember this list
is a monumental task.

But I think I know the explanation.
Free will was past upon the sane,
people should make self examination
and don't we have ourselves to blame?

For if the many of good intention
follow the bad few
and none of us try intervention
then what do we want our God to do?

For when we ask the question
at that final hour.
We may see the suggestion that
I gave you “people-power”

I often think of how you must have felt on that eventful day
it must have caused such turmoil in your mind.
You preach of love and loyalty to your father up above
but there was no one who treated you in kind.

Instead you battled prejudice from those you deem to love,
a love that was not plied upon to you,
disloyalty was so pronounce you must of looked to God above
but towards your flock no sediment did stew.

Of those you taught, who turned away announcing they new not
this good and holy prophet in his hour of need.
Allowing all and sundry to pronounce throughout the land,
that to eradicate this man they should indeed.

Your followers fled from you in fear for their own,
should they be of preference to gain?
They watched as humiliation and defacement were applied
and refused upon direction to utter out your name.

It was not until you died upon the crucifix that day
did your followers decide to turn and face the torrents flow
and pronounce to one and all of the mistake that they had made
by announcement of their Lord that they did know.

I wear the poppy
to celebrate
100 years
since
WW1

Poppy, oh poppy abundant and flowing
across all the fields you're still constantly growing.
As your seeds blow and find their own bed,
they're reminding us of the most glorious dead.

Glorious in the contribution they made.
Glorious for the price that they paid.
Glorious for fighting for what they believed.
Glorious for the terrors and hell they received.

Standing their ground in the eye of the storm.
Standing their ground whilst receiving the swarm.
Standing their ground in the mud and the vile
Standing their ground through the horrors and toil.

The death and the blood flowing like a river.
Like the fields of the poppies the breeze does now shiver.
The seeds carry on into a new time,
an horizon of red the future will entwine.

Poppy, oh poppy so winding and red,
reminding most deftly of our glorious dead.
You are constantly sowing your own little seed
as those who had fought did for those who were freed.

Although many thousands of lives they have gone
your legacy will  like that small seed go on.
Although now in history and most never met
you can take it for granted we shall never forget.

Murderous brood you chill my spine
with screeching caw and shrill,
your message mischievous and malign.
Pecking loudly on my sill.

Inside I hide in candles light,
creaking bones of this old dwelling.
Timbers voice speaks through the night,
expanding lumbers constant swelling.

Reflection caught but not quite sure,
shadows walk with weary shift.
Childrens whispers sound the lure
and through this house their voices drift.

Things go bump and rearranged,
is my mind so far away.
Torments that cannot be explained,
send me into disarray.

I try to act in normal manner,
completing in my usual way.
Although my speech is now in stammer,
I often kneel down and pray.

Outside the weather got gradually worse,
the murderous brood in disarray.
Thunderous clapping, voices its curse
but still ebony stalkers won't go away.

Feathery missiles pound from without,
the mission it seems is to gain entrance.
The message clear and without doubt,
no longer happy on the fence.

From out of the heavens a lightning strike,
the gleaming bolt and the power it shows
illumination, I have not seen the like,
outside my window a flock of burnt crows.

Shortly the sun made its presence known.
The whispering ceased, demeanor had eased.
This aged building has now lost its groan
and for the first time I am feeling quite pleased.

At last a home where I fear no more,
nothing of bother I truly can swear,
perhaps this was God who did even the score,
I wonder if this was the power of prayer?

Look up and see a wealth of stars, behold a
Universe. Heaven above. Hell below, why is
inbetween a pile of ****?

Why waste our time teaching our children to
be good, when we adults do such wrong?

Why waste our time teaching our children to
be good adults, when adults act like children?

How about, we just teach children how to care
and do the right things in life?

And then just copy them.

He doesn't look like me. His ways are not my ways.
His skin doesn't match my skin. If we were all the
same would we spend our lives criticizing ourselves?

In a child's eyes the colour of skin has no reflection.
We love naturally, we have to learn how to hate.
Do we stand bye or do we act, is it ever to late?

For what we throw away day after day many poor
people could feast upon. So why don't we pass it on?

However is it that we can have a Third World on a
Single Earth?

Who are we to say who should die and who should live?
Is it just to easy to solve this worlds problems by dropping
a bomb on them?

Who the f**k are we?

In between life’s mortal coil
where living teaches harshest real.
Mixed between the good and vile
this is the realm we learn to feel.

Our feelings good or very bad
often guide our way in life,
in many ways it is so sad.
Our past does cause us so much strife.

From early years I lived with rage.
Violence was just a way it seems.
Beatings from an early age
it took away our childhood dreams.

The first girl that I really liked
assumed there was some good in me
until my temper truly spiked.
It's when she wanted to be free.

I sit alone and sometimes cry
because of the things I have done.
In retrospect I’d rather die
or disappear and run, run, run.

It just comes out in angers run,
before I know it I strike out.
Just thank the Lord I had no gun
because I would use it there’s no doubt.

After many bad association
where violence has been used to quell
I hope that in this new relation
this time I do not go through hell.

I fight so hard now to restrain
my temper being what it be
From violence I must refrain
once and for all I can be free.

Free from anguish, free from blame.
Not to recall my younger days
Just talk instead of being inflamed
like others in more normal ways.

Now I am married with a wife.
Three loving children I adore
I think now when I feel the strife
No longer use my Satan’s claw.

Satan’s claw is what I call
my way of evil mindedness.
No longer to this way I fall,
now I can make this recompense.

Although my upbringing was quite bad
I feel I blamed my ways on this,
my parent’s lives’ were very sad
and something I shall never miss.

My life has gained in many ways.
My family I love more than all
and life is now something I praise
I thank God each day that I don’t fall

We walk the line together,
looking straight ahead.
Viewing the same scenery
and sharing the same bed.

Why is it then that we see
two totally different places?
Looking upon the same people
but seeing different faces.

I have never been unfaithful
but I refuse to shade my eyes
away from wonders of this place,
away from life’s surprise.

Every little thing within
my observational grasp.
Looking upon a life so good
and keen to make this last.

I walked this place for many years
before this love transpired
over any independence
of life I once required.

I walked this new route gladly.
This choice I freely make
to be with you of whom I love.
Have I made a mistake.

You watch my eye-line often
and woe betide I should
speak to another maiden,
your looks say that’s not good.

That elbow lock and loaded.
That ever waiting tongue.
Forever watching what I say
should you think I speak wrong.

I speak it as I see it.
I have nothing to hide.
I talk the way I always have
not to whom you do decide.

Your green eyed cast emotion
is squeezing at my heart.
Your jealous ways corrupt me,
my thoughts are now to part.

We had it for a moment.
I did all that I can.
I don't deserve this treatment
to whom I cant or can.

So baby now I leave here
I did not join this game.
You struck me out right at the start
and girl that’s such a shame.

Beyond this tenebrous curtain, fear associates
itself substantially, refusing to take separation.
I am inclusive to the elements. Tangible forces
caress without inhibition.
Without respect it inspects. I respond with aversion
but cannot cure a prevention.
Swallowed alive am I! Ineffective inside these bowels,
without the slightest hint of protection.
I stretch my arms, trying to fight an unseen burden.
I rely wholly on touch, 'tis a war far from won.
Motion is stalled as heavy weight pushes down into
this abyss. Poundage is transferred upon other parts
of my decrepit fragility. I am being suffocated by the
enormity of my aggressor. Will is weak but I find strength,
adrenalin is guided from fear and I use it.
Surging forward I lift my assassin. I can feel the blackness
wrapping around my being, invading my face. They bind
around me like tentacles of a octopus squeezing tighter and
tighter. I summon the strength to heave the creature upwards.
The weight now lifted but still these bindings grip my all.
I grapple until I feel a sudden ease and I am free.
Illumination now presents this assailant before my own eyes.
The silkiness of such sheer cotton sheets piled up in the middle
of my bed, now in this light look as harmless as they are in reality.
I hear the groaning and look over to see the rising cloud, resonating from the floor beside my crib.

I flinch with fear as my spouse scowls over at me.

Unfaithful Serpent of scorn, who art thou to lower
your sight? Casting me down beneath thee.
I think not, above own plateau is that of this Kings
Territory. Had I lesser demeanour it would be your
head. Glaring up at the block with rolling eyes of
Crimson glaze.
Away then to White Tower for this most personal of
torments. A lesson to be taught and yes most delinquent
of friend. I will engage precious and most valuable
time as tutor. In near future I do expect your values
will become distinctly comparable to this Royals own.
Under scrutinizer the truth shall become known.
My truth is without doubt. Would thee allocate to
question the word of a King.
If this be true all Hell will befall thee. Ponder well on
this should you doubt my resolve. Should you confess
before God and King answer then with your ink scribbling.
Should you speak true I will show lenience and mercy.
The block will be preferable to thee. The alternative to be
burned to ashes shall pray more wholly on your brow.
This decision is for your own conscience.
Right will raise its head in either forum. Why then keep
possession on the other?
Such is the error of your ways the axe-mans block is your
favoured direction. Your admission signs your own fate
but is of your own design. Free will brings confessional
signature to light of day.
This King is now professed to be unlawfully wronged and
once more is eligible to take his toll.