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Joe Cole Oct 2015
Sailing over white fluffy clouds in an aluminum tube
The occasional glimpse of earth thirty thousand feet below
A muted roar as mighty engines drive us through sky
Just over a hundred years ago only birds could fly
But modern jet propulsion drives man to greater heights
Over soaring mountain peaks that man has yet to climb
Effortless we cruise through a world of space and time
The trolley dolly does her rounds with over priced plastic wrapped food
Later she'll be back again with over priced duty free goods
I study my fellow passenger, coming from every walk of life
Some are single, some are married, SOME with another mans wife
Crammed in shoulder to shoulder, strangers on every side
A typical budget airline holiday and a budget airline ride
Soon once more we'll touch the ground, with a hidden sigh of relief
But we all will do it yet again, in a year, a month, or maybe in a week
This typifies my flight to Malta earlier this year and every flight on my many trips there. And yes I'll do it again next year...
  Oct 2015 Joe Cole
betterdays
awakened by the purr
of the little blue cat,
seeking warmth,
on this crisp spring morning

we, the little blue cat and I
take our breakfast outside
walking across the dew damp grass
to sit at the old wooden table

he, steps high, waggling his feet
me, i step deeply into the grass
enjoying the verdant, green smell
that rises,
enjoying the brief  commune with
nature
enjoying the return to childhood

we sit, companionably, eating
he leftover roast chicken,
me, purlioned cocoa puffs,
my son's saturday treat,
that he will surely never miss

as we sit, the sounds of the world waking
drift past us.
windows opening, the snort and cough
of an early rising smoker, cars starting
the birds chat and chirk, and the plop
of the fish as the break the surface of the pond.
the garbage trucks stop and start trek up the street.

and now in the house, the radio, and kettle begin
a shower turned on, a bass voice sings, not well
but with joy.

now the day has truly begun...
one last mouthful of half remembered childhood
and then back to the daily grind
as the sun makes it's way past the low lying clouds

the blucat, chooses to stay, out watching the birds.
Joe Cole Oct 2015
I wander in the mists of time
'Mid the spectral ghosts of poets now long gone
Shakespeare, Tennyson, Keats
But now Ernesto walks among them
Bones, now turned to dust
Skeletal remains so few
But written words survive
Bodies crumble, wither, and soon so little remains
But the written word is never lost
And so the memories remain
I would like to thank my friend Wolf for letting us know that a great talent has left us. He wrote for himself with honesty, he wrote for us with hope in his heart
Joe Cole Oct 2015
FACT, we are to clean
Yes it's true
We shower twice a day
And wash away our immunity to bacteria
Our water is full of chlorine
And other crap
And we wonder why people are dying
The human body has (had a natural immunity)
But we in our wisdom are destroying it
I've drunk out of rivers, streams and yes, even toilet bowls
And never got ill
Why?
Because the natural balance of nature
And the natural antibodies in my not so clean body
Allowed me to compensate
Think about your ancestors
If they were very lucky
One bath a week
Water probably shared by three others
They rarely got ill
So who was right
Joe Cole Oct 2015
But
Yes I live in the South Country
Where I grew up as a child
Where I wandered the fields and the forests
And studied life in the wild
I wander the unknown paths
In sunshine and in rain
Smell the fragrance of the Heather
And underfoot crushed wild thyme
This is my place
My escape from a dying world
You can bury me here in my South Country
With a tree standing over my grave
I need no long drawn out service
Just a place that nature has made
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