The missus wanted to go out;
I wanted to stay in.
So I did the washing-up
And emptied out the bin.
But still she wasn’t too impressed;
She was determined, I could see.
I needed to improve my odds
And it occurred to me;
Perhaps I should just toss a coin
To have an even chance;
So I suggested it to her
And she gave me such a glance!
She said, “You are so tight;
Have you a ‘double-headed coin’?”
I asked, “Would I do that to you?”
She said, No!  Use one of mine!”
Then she handed me a ten-pence piece;
I tossed it in the air.
It hit my thumb as it came down
And bounced to who knows where?
Deciding it had found a crack
Right beside me in the flooring;
I went and fetched my tool-box out
And soon began on sawing.
“Leave it!  It is just ten-pence!”
That’s what the missus said;
But I said that we didn’t know
Whether it was tail or head?
Seeing how determined I’d become
She left me on my own;
Went off in a strop
And soon began to moan!
I heard her say, “He’ll wreck the house
Just for a silly coin!”
She came to offer me another
But still, I did decline.
I smashed the tongue and groove
And slowly lifted up the floor
But when I looked into the space;
I took fright at what I saw.
There was a cavity right below;
Between the house-brick void
Because the coin was not around,
Well it must have fell inside.
So off I scurried down the stair
As fast as I could go
And with my lump-hammer and chisel
I gave such a mighty-blow!
About an hour later on
I’d smashed out half a brick;
The missus was annoyed with me
And said, ‘I made her sick!’
I pushed my hand inside the gap;
Then I ferreted about,
Got my hand stuck sideways
And could not get it out!
The missus grabbed me by the belt
Then she pulled with all her might;
She could not move me anyway
So she disappeared from sight.
She returned with Fairy-liquid
And squirted it on my wrist;
Pulling-it and pushing-it
I soon regained a fist.
But, there still appeared no coin;
My hand was black and blue!
The missus asked me to give-up;
There was nothing else to do.
She said it was too late now;
Even if we wanted to go out.
We might even have enjoyed ourselves
If I hadn’t mucked-about!
It seemed to me, she’d took the ****;
I disliked her attitude
And after all the work I’d done
I found it very rude!
I said, “It won’t take long
To put it back together.”
She said, ‘she didn’t give one,
She’d reached the end of a long-tether!’
Off she went to bed
Without wishing me goodnight!
I followed her just after,
‘Cause I sensed things wasn’t right.
She was lying there in bed
With a face ‘as dark as sin’;
Said she had a throbbing-head
And that she didn’t want me in!
Off I went into the spare-room
Feeling like a condemned-man;
All I’d done was for the best,
If it hadn’t gone to plan!
At times like this, when I feel down,
I fancy something hot
So off I trotted down the stairs
And boiled-up the ***.
Back inside the bedroom
With hot-chocolate in my cup;
I threw my trousers on the bed
And something fell from my turn-up.
Would you believe; it was the coin?
It really made me smile
After all the fuss I’d made
It had been there all the while!
I dashed right in to tell the wife
Thinking she’d be ‘chuffed!’
I said, “We’ll have to toss again!”
But she just yelled, “GET STUFFED!”

“Have you seen the chicichita?
I have waited hours to meet her.
I’ve been lurking in the wood
And truly, truly, mean no good.
I am hid behind this tree
Hoping that she won’t see me;
Her Mom will send her to see Gran
And I will catch her if I can!
I know she’ll have to pass this way;
So now I’m here, it’s here I’ll stay.
My teeth are sharp, clean and shining;
It will be no good her whining.
We are miles from Granny’s house,
Where it’s quiet as a mouse.
She can run and scream and shout
There will be no one about.
I think today I’m on a winner;
I’m going to eat her for my dinner.
Here she comes all dressed in red
With her hood upon her head.
Wait a minute, if I can,
I’ll go with her to visit Gran.
Then when my day’s works complete
There’ll be two of them to eat.”
“Where you off to on your own?
Don’t you feel unsafe alone?”
“I am off to visit Gran.”
“Well I’ll escort you if I can?”
“No!  You can’t!  I’m in a rush!”
She knocked him over with one push.
He followed her but had a trip;
That’s when the girl gave him the slip.
At Gran’s cottage, she was smiling, but
The Wolf had made a smart short-cut.
He was waiting in Gran’s bed
With the covers pulled about his head.
Gran was tied-up out of sight;
Following her awful fright!
The girl cried out. Good God, Oh Grief!
Twas then she’d seen the eyes and teeth.
This was not Gran; she was undone,
It looked as if the Wolf had won!
“Where is Gran?”  She screamed and cried;
Believing that her Gran had died!
Now she was terrified and scared
But in the woods someone had heard.
In he dashed, with chopper waving
Knowing Wolf was misbehaving.
The Cutter chased him round the bed
Threatening to chop-off his head!
Wolf realized he’d lost the fight
And off he ran into the night!
In the cupboard, they found Gran;
Red Riding Hood then thanked the man.
His arrival, just in time
Means a happy-ending to this rhyme!

Variegated colours of the late Autumn leaves
Rustle and blow in the gathering breeze;
Like the patchwork of a quilt hung out on the line,
Resplendent and dazzling; God’s own fair design.
They shimmer and sparkle like the sun on the seas
Hanging onto last life from the boughs of the trees.
Colours of rainbows like sails on a yacht
Until they fall to the ground where they wither and rot.
Replenishing soil to kick-start dormant seed
Thus bringing new-life to all that they feed.

In the shed down the garden, beneath the bench,
By the ladders and paint and the old monkey wrench;
There’s a tea-chest that’s full of all sorts of scrap,
Bolts, nuts and screws, and an old water-tap.
In the house up the garden, sat by the fire
There is an old-man who was once a live-wire.
He’d chase all the ladies and dance the nights through
But now at his age he finds little to do.
So it wasn’t so strange that one day he decided
That it had been far too long since the shed had been tidied.
He put on his cap and his old working-clothes
And he marched down the garden where everything grows.
He was armed to the teeth with his broom, bags and bucket
To save further journeys what he needed he took it.
In earnest he started to raise lots of dust
Then he threw out the things that were covered in rust.
A Smithy by trade, he had a feeling for metal
For years he had cut it and worked to fine fettle.
So he got out his tools, then he thought for a while
And then began crafting from the bits in the pile.
With all that was useful, out of all that he’d got
With skill, slow and surely he produced a Robot.
It was four-feet in height; on two-legs there it stood,
He observed it with pleasure and thought he’d done good.
But it was just life-less; no movement, no speech,
The legs could not walk and the arms did not reach.
He sat there and fretted, he pondered and thought
Until it was dark, but his thinking brought nought.
Sadly, defeated, and through lack of light
He reluctantly said, ‘that’s enough for tonight.’
So he gathered up his tools and patted Robot’s head
And he went up the garden and retired to his bed.
Tired from his grafting he soon snored in deep-sleep;
Whilst down in the shed only wood-lice did creep.
The Robot stood there lit up by moon’s-rays
Void of a heart and without human-ways.
It was then when the rain started to drop
In cats and dogs, well it just wouldn’t stop.
Then came the banging big base-drum like
And shortly there followed a bright lightening-strike.
It flashed through the trees and right through the shed
There it struck Robot on the top of his head.
Smoke came from his ears and his eye started to roll,
His arms lifted-up and his legs took a stroll.
He walked up and down, then through the shed-door,
Then out in the garden where the rain still did pour.
He got to the house, where he knocked on a pane,
When the man awoke he thought he’d gone insane.
The Robot then shouted, ‘look here my good-fella,
Is there possibly a chance I could loan an umbrella?’
He rushed down the stairs, turned the key in the lock
He was all of a shake; still suffering from shock.
But from that day forth he was a man with great pleasure;
Enjoying the Robot he’d constructed in leisure.
Never was a man so happy with his lot
From the friendship he forged with the home-made Robot.

I looked on and he looked back;
I wished and wished the glass may crack
But on and on I stared at me
And saw not what I used to be.
Instead I saw an image there;
Moulded hard by life’s despair,
Etched upon a lived-in look,
A tedious text, an epic book.
Many pages now dog eared
I saw a face I had long feared;
A face that age did now behold
Of molten limbs that now run cold,
A dynamo without youth’s spark,
A fading light with looming dark.
I turned my eyes to look away
But in my mind reflections stay;
I turn them back and still I see
The image there that once was me!

From the goblet slowly sipped,
Of the poison cunning slipped.
To his wife he gave a nod
Not noticing how she acted odd.

From the Bank his money waned,
His loving wife had gradually drained.
To be with her new found love,
Her husband gone to heaven above.

From the goblet slowly sipped
Dark red wine, which she had tipped.
With a powder from her hanky,
So she could play her hanky panky.

On his seat he rocked and swayed
Not knowing that his wife had strayed.
Into her loving eyes he stared
And she gazed back as if she cared.

From the goblet slowly slipped
Dark red wine, from lip it dripped.
But his wife she did not care,
She wanted him to leave her there.

In that grand house with swimming pool,
She smiled too think he was a fool.
For she would live there in that mansion,
With her lover, dark and handsome.

From her goblet she then drank
Until onto her knees she sank.
For whilst she did conceal the potion,
Both the goblets were in motion.

Revolving tables come in handy.
Red wine, fruit juice or fine brandy.
And so the tables turned, you see.
It was she that died it was not he.

Black widow, waiting for a strike,
Crouching small, behind your mike.
You love to see contestants cringing,
This is a quiz; it’s not a lynching.

Face ******* up behind her glasses.
I’ve seen better bums on lasses.
Centre spot on stage she poses,
A jagged thorn on jet-black roses.

She’d like us to believe, I think.
She’d never be the weakest link.
Superior look upon her face,
Shame about the old boat race.

What’s this I see? You have a degree?
Still, you’ll never be as good as me.
Who chose that dress? Don’t like the shirt!
She loves to dig and throw the dirt.

Oh! And you belong to Mensa.
I’ve never met anyone who’s denser.
This is a quiz, I hope you know?
You’re the weakest link; you’ll have to go.

She earns more money than the Queen.
She’ll never be an old has been.
Was she born or just invented?
Let’s hope the moulds been lost or dented.

Where do you come from? No don’t know it.
Still you’re common and you show it.
I’m from Liverpool; I’m a Scouse,
You ought to see my big fine house.

It’s easy when you have the answers; see!
Too believe you are much cleverer than we.
But you’re not that clever, Ann we think.
Oh and one more thing, I Hate That Wink!

Once I was a thin boy
But now I am obese
I used to have a six pack
It’s now a tub of grease.

I used to run like water
And jump just like a flea
But now I’m old and shorter
And the fleas just jump on me.

In my eyes a youthful glint,
My teeth were pearly white.
Now I have a nervous squint
And my teeth come out at night.

I used to look like Elvis
And dance like Fred Astaire.
Now I’ve got a dicky pelvis
And very little hair!

Once the girls all loved me
They’d chase me day and night
But now I’m old and ugly
And the girls have all took flight.

We went a walking in a field,
I threw you on the ground.
The grass and clover were concealed
There was no one else around.

The sun was shining on us strong,
You felt so warm and cosy.
We lay there oh so very long
I felt my cheeks go rosy.

No one passed along our way.
I enjoyed the silent bliss.
It was the most amazing day
And nothing could beat this.

Just too feel you near my skin
With tender loving care,
Gentle, pleasant, fragile, thin.
Alone with me right there.

But as the sun set o’er the lands,
I raised you with a tug.
And cuddled you within my hands,
My scotch plaid woollen rug.

There is a mirror in my mind
Reflections of the past,
And when I look I see my life
Start, betwixt and last.
This sheet of glass reveals to me
The things that I once knew,
When I was young I looked to see
But then, memories were few.

Now I’m old and memories fade
The mirror needs a shine.
But memories are just like drink!
And older wines grow fine.
Images sparkle now and then
They bubble to the top.
Then I remember where and when,
And wish they’d never stop.

I see a baby, small and fair,
A boy who grows so fast.
Sisters, brothers, mother, dad,
Theatre, stage and cast.
If only freeze frame could be used,
And I could linger there.
Forever more to be amused
No loss, no death, no care.

When love sat neatly on the stove
Bubbling with content.
I never dreamt a fuse would blow
And leave such discontent.

When all my cakes were browning well
And soufflé neatly risen.
I never dreamt the heat would cool
And leave me in derision.

For many years my cooker worked
I was proud of all I made.
I never dreamt the power would fail
And leave me so dismayed.

But when the hotplate starts to cool
And pots refuse to simmer
I never dreamt your love would die
And leave without a glimmer.

My thermostat no longer clicks
My tiny red lights gone.
I never dreamt I’d miss them so
And depend so much upon.


The food of love that fed my heart
Is suddenly all-cold.
I never dreamt I’d lose it
Until I grew quite old.

Now I’ll starve and grow quite weak
I’m living on stale crumbs.
I never dreamt we’d come to this
No longer are we chums.

I cannot find the right fuse wire
My circuit breakers stuck
I never dreamt my torch would go
I’ve run right out of luck.

Oh God! Send someone to fix it
Before I’m without light
I never dreamt a love like that
Could leave us over night.

Oh Imagination, where are you?
The butterflies have flown.
I search the moon-lit sky for gods
But still I am alone.

Where are the streets all lain with gold
And many headed hounds,
Pixies, dwarfs and Fairy Queens,
Good Kings with golden crowns?

I search my mind, my brains on leave,
My senses don’t exist.
No longer there creative thoughts
And wondrous memories mixed.

No bows of burning gold,
No chariots of fire.
Not a single glowing light,
Nothing does inspire.

If I could only walk the fields
And see the flowers dance.
The birds a singing in the trees
Might trigger off a trance.

But still the vessels hollow sound
Rings out when it is tapped.
The bird has flown; cage is empty,
Tiny wings have flapped.

If I into myself withdraw
To transcend a destination.
I find that there is no one there
My thoughts are on vacation.

Real cinema within your brain
A trillion pictures still remain
Cut and spliced a patchwork quilt
First devoured and then rebuilt
Stored and cycled round and round
Held on file and then re-found
Fantasies and fact combined
In visions of the human mind.

What do you want for Christmas son,
That your heart is set upon?
You can take your pick, my lad.
Come now tell your Dad.

Don’t hesitate, please tell me.
What will it have to be?
Is there out a brand new toy,
My special little boy.

We have lots of money,
So come now tell me sonny.
If you feel your heart is set,
There’s nothing that we cannot get.

Dad, all the money on this earth
Cannot buy what it is worth.
I just want my Mommy back.
That’s all in life I lack.

When the Summer Sun starts falling
Early dark nights start recalling.
The mercury is slow in rising
And it hardly is surprising
That the fuel bill keeps on growing
While strong winds continue blowing
That’s when we are know, know, knowing,
That the Winter’s here.

It’s the time we all start sneezing;
Creaky chests begin their wheezing
All our throats are hoarse and sore
When you think you can’t take more.
Your bones and limbs feel like lead
And you have a banging head
That is what we all dread, dread
You know the Winter’s here.

When the rain showers change to snow
And icy mornings just won’t go
Cars need scraping, paths need clearing,
That is what we all are fearing,
Christmas is just round the bend
There’s multiples of cards to send
When will the spending end, end, end?
Oh no, Winter’s here!

Who’d be an elf at Christmas?
To be forever loading a sleigh.
Then setting the satnavs to every house
To help Santa get on his way.

Who gets all of the fan mail?
He’s the only name the kids know.
It’s definitely no one but Santa;
That really does get on our roe!

He’s good at issuing orders
And he’s definitely good with a whip.
It’s the elves that do all the working
But only Santa goes on the work’s trip!

Every year we think we should tell him
That he really does get up our back.
So we all get very excited
When we get to give him the sack.

We’re forever mucking out reindeers
And polishing Rudolph’s red nose.
It’s amazing he keeps that colour
When everyone knows where it goes.

We are all very glad when it’s over;
‘Cause Boxing Day’s really the best.
It’s the only holiday he gives us,
We all have to work on the rest.

He really is a hard master;
Not to us the one that kids’ love.
Perhaps if they knew him like we do
They’d all want to give him the shove!

We could really manage without him.
The big old fat man dressed in red.
He wouldn’t be hard to take to
If he hadn’t got such a big head.

Sometimes he gets stuck in the chimney
And we have to go lever him out.
You’d think at least he would thank us
But he never does anything but shout.

We’ve been very tempted to leave him;
‘Cause he certainly gets on our nerves.
But we couldn’t let the kids down in that way
Although it is what he deserves.

So we remember the spirit of Christmas;
Everything that it means to you.
We bring out the Bells and the Walkers
And have our own National Elf’s Do!

Do you hear the distant bells ringing in the spire?
Do you hear the joyful songs of the Yuletide choir?
Are you warming by the fire and eating turkey roast?
Are you blessed with the company of kin and friendly host?
Is every Christmas that occurs better than the one before
And will it last throughout your years and be forever more?


Or do you hear the cries of children starving in their beds
With days of endless violence and death within their heads?
Is there always an empty hearth with shivering and cold?
Will you be alone for now and ever until you’re very old?
Will every Christmas bring to you nothing better than before
And will no one hear the cries for help and knock upon your door?


Christmas is the time to think of others and their plight
When you are warmed with happiness, smug on Christmas Night.
Christmas is the time for giving and for thinking more of others;
Especially the suffering, starving child, alone without their Mothers.
This Christmas when you’ve spent your money frivolously and rash,
Think of those worse off in life that die through lack of cash!

Sisterly their love is shown
Upon the spot where they have grown.
The willow shows its empathy
With every other living tree,
Its trailing branches sweep the ground
Wherein the source of life is found.
A cycle starting with decay
That fortifies the soil today,
Just as it did in Myrrha’s time
When she was punished for her crime,
Incestuous love, forbidden birth,
Planted in ancestral earth.
And still the myrrh its tears doth cry
Although two-thousand years pass by,
Emotion shown in each small wood
Enforcing loss of mother-hood.
The living left do shed their tears
Throughout their own remaining years.
For all’s in flux and nothing lasts
But each in turn has seeds it casts
And so the living comes to bear
Although the tear-drops in despair
Like precious gems the myrrh as shed
All must cry and mourn their dead,
But out of death new life created
True natures course is understated.

Upon an island fair and green
Where not a face of white was seen
There lived a tribe of Chami-Tu
Whose numbers counted only few
Idyllic life of love and peace
But all of this was soon to cease.


Upon the Raven out at sea
An English Captain name of Mee
Appended telescope to eye
And watched as nothing drifted by
Till suddenly it came in view
The Island of the Chami-Tu.


So Captain Mee he gave a cry
Avast the craft there’s land ahoy
About the Raven swung her helm
Another one to join the realm
Swift and sharp it cut through waves
Intent to capture many slaves.


The Chami-Tu still unaware
So therefore failing to prepare
For never had they ever seen
The fighting forces of the Queen
Without a fight they all were found
Their hands and feet were tightly bound.


They never before had seen a white
Imagine do, their fear and fright
To Captain Mee this was routine
His crew were hard men, cruel and mean
They whipped each one the Chami-Tu
Just for the want of things to do.


And then they stowed them in the hold
Where all was damp and dark and cold
For many weeks they sailed the sea
Just for the love of Captain Mee
Who took them to a foreign shore
To join the likes of many more
And work in fields of sugar cane
Where all were treated with disdain.


Language changed they would not speak
Were brought a God they did not seek
Their world was different from ours
But we had Gods in Ivory Towers.
What was their crime? They never knew
They’d lived in peace the Chami-Tu
Upon their Island in the sea
Where none had heard of Captain Mee
And none had ever heard of hate
No human being deserved their fate.

A little lad sat all alone upon St Agnes wall
Everything in silence lay except a lone gull’s call.
The tide lapped slowly at the beach; drifting to and fro
Bringing in the soiled remains of what we’ll never know.
And in the sky a solitary Star hung above his head
Was this the place where he would go the day that he was dead?
But just why did he have to go?  Why did he have to die?
Emotion wrestled in his heart and he began to cry;
One tear drop in an ocean would never cause a flood,
One broken heart within a child would always do no good.
Is Heaven just a dream?  He thought, Is God a fallacy?
And even if they are for real, will they be there for me?
The star moved slowly overhead; a distant shining light,
Then slowly slipped behind a cloud and vanished out of sight.
One lonely little tear drop hung suspended on his cheek
Then nestled slowly on his lips, till he began to speak.
‘Oh little Star don’t go away and leave me all alone
So fondly have I studied you that love has slowly grown.
I am a lonely little boy I’ve never known real love
Please tell me is it Heaven there, up in the sky above?’
The star then slowly reappeared and lit the darkened sky
Has if to send an answer down it shone upon the boy.
He never knew a star could speak but he heard it in his head,
It said, ‘I was a very lonely star but already am I dead!
The light that shines upon you now will gradually die out
But there is Heaven up above of this I have no doubt.
Like you I always doubted God but still I used to pray
And now I have so many friends within the Milky Way’.
‘Oh thank-you Star’, the young lad cried; his tears were now of joy,
‘Oh thank-you God for casting light upon this lonely boy.’
He sat there in the rays of that distant twinkling light
And in his heart he felt real love, till he watched it out of sight.

I took a slow drive down the lane
And had to stop to pass a train
A train of thought that came to me
As I sat and watched the ships at sea
The ships that crossed the Desert sand
Were Camels from the Promised Land
A barren land with bright sunshine
With too much work and too much wine
It whined as it came down to ground
With whirling, whooshing, Rolls-Royce sound
Sound of mind but weak at heart
I could not get the car to start
To start the race he fired the gun
And jumped the hurdles one by one
Upon his horse his head held high
But all the others passed him by
Some were even riding bikes
It all depends on what she likes
I’ll give her roses red and green
And hope she doesn’t make a scene
A scene of epic Trojan Wars
Sold on computers in big stores
Mega-bites the Postman’s leg
Caused to hop and left to beg
Sat on corners of strange streets
The brunt of jokes from all he meets
A meeting of the mind needs brains
Not passing trains on country lanes.

I see you in my waking dreams
Where everything’s surreal.
Nothing is just what it seems
And you are not for real.

I watch you in my own mind’s eye
In my unconscious mind.
You make me laugh; you make me cry,
But life is undefined.

You’re just a wisp of fading air
A shadow in the night.
When I reach out to touch you there
You disappear from sight.

With rapid flicker in the eye
And shallowness of breathing,
Where everything is just a lie
My restless thoughts deceiving.

But there is where I want to dwell
In the vacuum of my thought
Personified somnolent spell
Where all resolves to nought.

I do not lie in solitude
I’m with a thousand friends
Let go the saddened attitude
For nothing ever ends

I am the rustling in the trees
The dew and falling rain
Raise yourself from off your knees
You won’t hear me complain.
Whenever blackbirds whistle
And frogs on lilies croak
It’s only me that’s calling
Although I haven’t spoke.
The tears that wrestle in your eyes
Won’t fall and wake the seed
It’s time I put you to the wise
I do no longer bleed.
I’d like to see a smile awake
And live upon your face
Because you’ve made a grave mistake
I do not fill this space.
I love the flowers that you bring
The kind words that you speak
I hear the hymns you sometimes sing
When you turn up each week.
But do not come in search of me
For me you’ll never find
I am not what I used to be
Since I left this world behind.
I will be with you every day
A beacon in the night
For whilst you think I’ve gone away
You’re always in my sight.
So, do not let the tears drop
Or sorrows fill your heart
Although life ends it does not stop
We’re never far apart.

I do not lie in solitude
My bed is warm and dry
No more the saddened attitude
Just look up to the sky.

I am the fenestration man
I come to bring you light,
To brighten up your dullest day
And switch the day from night.
To lift you out of sadness,
Bring warmth to aching souls,
But first we must decide upon
Just where to place the holes.
We’ll open up the South- face,
Take sections from the West.
I’m sure that if you sanction it
I’ll do for you what’s best.
You say you want fenestras
In every rising wall,
So that is what you’ll get my dear,
Some large, some round, some small.
The glass will be translucent,
The wood of finest Oak.
There’s satisfaction guaranteed;
For you they’ll be bespoke.
Your neighbours will be gob smacked;
It’s something they’ve not seen.
To say you’ll make them envious,
They’ll be the brightest green.
And you will see it all my lad;
Sat here within your manor.
All because you sent for me,
Your fenestration planner.

Duck upon the water
Got your bottom wet
Don’t you think you ought a
Go and see a vet
You might find to your surprise
That you will get the cramp
Because you know it’s none too wise
Sitting in the damp
You could get a runny bill
Might even get the flu
I hope you’ve been and made a will
Cause this will never do
Why don’t you have a gentle fly
No need to play the fool
Get that backside warm and dry
Don’t keep it in the pool
Don’t just sit there dithering
Not listening to a word
Your bottom is still withering
You silly little bird.

I can’t get to sleep at night for fear of what I see,
There is definitely something strange happening to me.
I see Demons in my bedroom dancing round my bed-
Devils on my inner lids poisoning my head.
Beelzebub is running riot driving me insane,
Demons just won’t let me rest-they’re causing grief and pain.

I’ve tried taking tablets; I’ve tried counting sheep
But nothing ever seems to work I still can’t get to sleep.
‘Cause there’s Demons in my bedroom, screaming and a prancing.
Every time I close my eyes I see the Devil dancing.

Weir wolfs howling all night through, Old Nick running riot.
Perhaps it is the food I eat, I’ll have to change my diet.
Sometimes I sneak to bed real late and try to be unheard
But in the cupboards they must wait, I know it sounds absurd.
As soon as I turn off the light and snuggle down to sleep
I get the most enormous fright when out they start to creep.

They just won’t keep from out my head-
Moonlight wakes the living dead.
Demons dance and weir wolf’s scream;
I know that it’s not just a dream,
‘Cause I can’t get to sleep at all
Sometimes it drives me up the wall.
I toss and turn and scream and shout,
The neighbours ask what it’s about.

But I’m afraid to ever say
They’ll think I’m mental straight away,
What normal person sees this sight?
When off to bed they go at night?
I don’t know, I can’t explain,
I know it’s driving me insane.
I’ll ask the vicar round for tea,
Then ask him if he’ll stay with me
To exorcise these hellish visions;
He’s sure to make the right decisions.
He shouldn’t ask or be judgemental
Even if he thinks I’m mental.
Surely there must be some hope,
If there’s not I just can’t cope.
I ask, could you sleep safe and sound
To know your bed has Demons round?
Answers truthfully, please don’t lie.
No You Couldn’t!  Nor can I.

The rain, the rain, drives me insane
It patters on my windowpane.
Each single drop of rain that’s spent
Leaves my mind in such torment.
A feeling that I can’t explain
The torture of the pouring rain.   6


Please let it stop, it can’t go on,
My sanity will soon be gone.
Pitter, Patter, Patter, Pit, it
Drives me mad, I cannot sit.
Each successive single drop
Makes my brain want to pop.

              
The sound torments, I have no peace.
With every drop the sounds increase.
It feels as if my brains on fire
And I’ve begun to mass perspire.
The sweat that trickles from my brow,
Begins to Pitter, Patter, now.      18

Oh Water God, please rescue me,
Stop the rain and set me free.
Hear my prayers and let me go.
Remove the curse of H2O
I did nothing to create
Please let me be, I’m in a state.


I’ll begin to beg and cry,
Set me free, I’d rather die.
The pain, the pain inside my head,
I’d be better off if dead.
Hear my plea, I beg please do
I just don’t know what else to do. 30


I’ll hold a pillow to my ears
And mop up my cascading tears,
It’s water, water, everywhere.
My mind has just become a blur.
I can’t go on, I cannot breath,
I’ll hang myself and take my leave.


Still the rain it patters down,
Someone save me, or I’ll drown.
My minds in a submerging pool,
Oh Water God, why be so cruel.
Let the falling water cease.
It can’t go on please give me peace. 42


Pitter, Patter, Patter, Pit,
Pitter, Pitter, Pit, Pit, Pit.
Water running down the drain,
The excruciating, crippling pain.
The racking of each nervous cell
Ringing out my own death knell.


Deafening noise I can’t keep out,
Grant my prayer, send a drought.
Let my mind have peace again,
Remove the daggers from my brain.
Oh Water God don’t torture me
Stop this rain and let me be.  54


If you’ll just grant one single wish
And leave the water to the fish.
Don’t let it fall upon my glass.
Each single, soggy, squishy, splash.
Then I’ll forever sing your praise,
Forgive me Lord, it’s just a phase

I’m just a simple poet poor
But when I have the time
I put my pen to paper
And create a little rhyme.
The inspiration comes to me
From where it is unknown
But when it does I have
To simply, somehow, set the tone.
Knowing how to speak to you
Just how to break the ice
To create a little atmosphere
And assume a teller’s voice.
The subject sometimes strikes
Me as perhaps a tad absurd,
But when it enters in my head
I just have to write the word.
I don’t know how it started
Or if in time will end
All I know for certain
Is, I wish not to offend.
As the spirit enters in
My mind is in turmoil
Will it all be worth it?
And has it any style?
Does it really matter?
Will each word go unread?
Perhaps end in the dustbin
Or be good when I’m dead.
It’s not a sickness, I don’t think,
And not as if I’m mental,
Perhaps I am just full of it
And a touch too sentimental.
I do know though it’s better out
Than bubbling up inside
And that poetry will only die
When present Worlds collide.

The dweeb lived in the dwellings of a dwindling tribe of dwarves
Who anchored little kayaks at the moorings in the wharves.
He organised this transport so that they might go at night
Deep into the dark dense woods to visit their Snow White.
But the dwarves were very old and weren’t getting any younger
And although they really wanted too it couldn’t last much longer.
Meanwhile the dweeb would study every minute of the day
So studious and serious with little time for play.
The daddy of the dwarfs known as Doctor Joe
Said to him, “Look dweeb, there’s little left to know.”
But still he studied on writing loads of lengthy notes,
Which sometimes he would use to make tedious little quotes.
Until eventually the dwarves found him annoying and real boring
Besides he woke them up at night with his constant snoring.
So Doctor Joe hatched a plan with his little tribe
It was devious and genius and this I will describe.
They knew Snow White was lonely and longing for a man
So this is what they had in mind for this dweeb known as Stan.
Snow White would lie there in a dwam pretending to be dead
And somehow they would lure Stan along to her deathbed.
So they told her that he was a Prince, the great love of her heart
She of course was up for it, and couldn’t wait to start.
Doctor Joe then told the dweeb, that Snow White was no more.
He said that he might save her and showed him to the door.
On their little kayak they paddled up the river
But the dweeb then said to Doctor Joe, “I don’t know what to give her.”
The Doctor reassured him that it would be real bliss
If only one time in her life she had a loving human kiss.
The dweeb replied, “This just won’t work.” So he quoted healing potions.
When Doctor Joe rejected these he suggested soothing lotions.
None of these the Doctor said were right for their Snow White
Only a kiss from a real-man could help her end this plight.
So eventually there beside Snow White all the party stood,
Outside of the stone cottage deep within the wood.
The dwarves should have looked distressed but they were full of glee
And so they had to hide their smiles in case the dweeb should see.
At long last they’d be rid of him, this boring little nerd
Some of them expressed this and they hoped he hadn’t heard.
But the dweeb was now distracted by the beauty of this girl
He didn’t know if this would work but he’d give it a whirl.
He puckered up his lips and planted one before he spoke
Then gob-smacked he stood there as Snow White soon awoke.
Immediately when their eyes met he knew that it was right
Likewise she felt this too, it was real love at first sight.
So you see that all of this now ended happy ever after.
Doctor Joe and all the dwarves left in bursts of laughter.

Deep within a leafy dell
There lived a hairy fairy
Who very often cast a spell
That was frightening and scary.
The only friend the fairy had
Was an old green warty toad,
He never thought the fairy bad,
Just lonely and old.
So he’d sit with her and croak
And watch her practice magic.
She very rarely often spoke,
This to him was tragic.
The fairy dress; the fairy wore
Had seen better days.
It was *****, tattered, creased and tore
The hem hung loose in frays.
Her head seemed always in a cloud,
He never saw her smile,
Her wand no longer taut and proud
But still she was not vile.
Somewhere inside he saw her love;
He longed to be her mate,
So he prayed to God above
And asked her for a date.
She thought he saw her as a joke.
He was playing with her heart.
Up she went, in a puff of smoke,
That gave the toad a start.
Never having seen this done before
He had a mixed-up feeling.
His warts and looks she must abhor
And she found him unappealing.
For days he waited there for her
Because he was alarmed;
A toad and fairy love was rare
He thought she might be charmed.
If she would only hear him out,
That he may just explain.
Then she, he felt, could have no doubt
His love just would not wane.
But if his looks she hated so,
Then this he’d have to take.
He’d just hop-off; away he’d go,
Take bravely his mistake.
He realised, ‘how sad it is,
I never asked her name.’
With one loud bang and mighty ****
Back to his side she came.
“It occurred to me, you might be kind,
My name is Nuff,” the fairy cried,
“And I can read your mind.”
“Fairy Nuff,” the toad replied.
Then she kissed him on his cheek
A shock that made him wince.
Before he had a chance to speak
He was a fairy Prince.
She was beautiful and young,
Like his clothes, hers were new.
A love that’s ‘Magic’ is not wrong
Especially for these two.

The snow lay crisply on the sill
And gripped the windowpane.
A coach and horses scurried by
Slowly, slithering down the lane.

Beneath the gas light in the gloom
A group of choirboys sang.
‘Ding **** merrily on high’,
And all the church bells rang.

Whilst in his bedroom, up above,
A little schoolboy lay.
He’d hung his stockings on the posts
And he dreamed of Christmas day.

And on his bed an old greatcoat
Around his neck held tight,
And on his feet a rag knot rug
To warm him through the night.

His water bottle at his chest
Had now become quite cold.
But in his mind the warm thoughts raced
Of many stories told.

His Mom and Dad below him sat
Less warmly by a candle,
And worried how to pay the rent
Thus to avoid a scandal.

‘But one things sure’, his old mom said.
‘This year may be our last,
So we’ll do all that we can do
To make it better than the last.

‘Remember to be quiet’, she said.
‘Don’t wake my baby boy’.
Here’s an orange, apple and monkey nuts
And a little wooden toy’.

His Father crept into his room
And by his stockings knelt.
He slowly placed inside the gifts
Then in his waistcoat felt.

A tiny farthing in his hand
And in his eye a tear.
He gently pushed it with the rest,
Then to his boy drew near.

‘If only I could give you more,
Then Son I surely would.
For if it were the only thing to give
Then I would give my blood.

His Son lay there without a care,
A smile upon his face.
He kissed him gently on the cheek
And left without a trace.

Then slowly creeping across the hills
And softly clipping trees.
An orange globe of Christmas cheer
Began the frost to tease.

Wiping sleep out of his bleary eyes
And awakening to the cold.
Quickly rummaging into the socks
Clutched a farthing as if gold.

A little boy whose Christmas dreams
So simply had been blessed.
Sang a little Christmas song
And rapidly got dressed.

Each breath he breathed froze in the air.
His tiny hands and feet were frozen.
His mind already at the shop
Espied the sweets he chosen.

Liquorice wood and kali dabs
Pink sugar candied mice.
The little journey down the lane
And sliding on the ice.

His mom and Dad they saw his glee,
Forgot their sorry states.
At least upon this Holy day
They’d have food upon their plates

Beneath the weeping Willow tree
There sat a tiddly Monk
And no one knew and no one cared
Just why that Monk got drunk;
But everyday the clock struck twelve
You’d see him sitting there
Chirping cheerful ditties,
In a drunken slur.
Then one young boy, he stopped and asked,
“What troubles you my Lord?”
Ungraciously the monk replied
Or should I say, he roared!
“I have to taste the Holy wine,
It is my job you see.
But I cannot recommend it
Till I’ve tasted two or three,
And sometimes if the wine is corked
It can be five or six
So you see it’s not my fault
That I am in this fix.”
The boy said, “It’s not good my Lord
That a Holy man should be
Inebriated to the hilt
And sat beneath a tree.”
After giving one loud burp
The Monk he sat and cried,
“I’ll try to give it up my son
But many times I’ve tried.”
“The boy said Lord it’s come to me
This sudden blinding flash
My Dad would volunteer I know
But you’d have to pay him cash.”
“Your Dad would do this for me son,
Are you sure he’d volunteer?”
“It’s wine I know, but I think so
Although he’d prefer beer.”
“Is he a man of God?
Is he climbing Jacob’s Ladder?”
The boy said, “I don’t know
But he loves the ‘Bull and Bladder’.”
“Bring him to me soon my son
You’re the answer to my prayers
I thought I was forsaken
But now that someone cares,
I’ll walk the straight and narrow
And really sort my life.
Now what other sins have I?
Oh yes! I shouldn’t have a wife.
Do you think he’ll take her too?
This Father of yours son.”
“Well yes, he’s only human,
When all is said and done.
But that will cost, I’m sure you’ve guessed,
These things they don’t come cheap.
My Dad is sensible I know
And a robbing little creep.”
“That’s it then son.  Go forth.” He cried.
“Bring your Father here.
It will be worth it this I know
Even if it costs me dear.”
The boy pushed forth his hand
He expected a large tip
But the Monk pulled out a bottle
And he offered him a sip.
“I’m too young to drink my Lord,
You should be ashamed.
Although I know it is the wine
So you cannot be blamed.
But if you don’t cough up right now
And offer cash to me
You can sit there drunken all your life,
Beneath the Willow tree.”

“Yo con stik yer O.T. Gaffa
Weer the monkey stiks his nuts.
Dost think I’ll fall fer that agin
No questions ifs or buts?
Fer fore ‘ears now I’ve werked me roe
Thru blood and sweat and tears
And all fer such a measly dough
Werk overtime no fears.”
The Gaffa looked me in the eye
And stood his graernd real firm.
“Wust be better on the dole
With missis on the gurm?”
Cust see he wart in mood fer messin,
He wus beetroot red in ferse.
An I war gunna mess abaert
So I gor on his curse.
“Yo con insult me till cows come um
But yoh wow insult mar *****.
Gaffa or no Gaffa mate
Yo’ll end up in six-foot trench!”
He must a thought it tad absurd,
It war achieving any gud.
So, he said, “Time an a third?”
To this I said I would.
He ay bad Gaffa after all
It jus needed consultation.
We both walked off I dun confess
With mutual admiration.
“Oh, wenst yo wont us in?”  I asked,
Cust I didna ear ya say.”
“I’m sorry I fergor ah kid,
Yome in on Christmas Day.”

I’ve written poems by the score
And bled my biro dry,
I’ve written till my eyes were sore
And often, wondered why?
But when my minds in overdrive
My thoughts in racing shoes,
I feel that I have come alive
And I’ve nothing left to lose.
I have no hopes of stardom though,
Fame favours just the few
So why I write them, I don’t know
It’s something that I do.