A poem I did not want to write
As we slowly watched her lose her fight
At any time it's a word we don't need
To be struck by a natural curse at its seed
That word, hope
With her looks, just dancing as a model
She made her diagnosis look like a doddle
But the surface covered many an internal ache
For she made the best of it she could make
As its a fire with a spark and a terminal spinning spoke
Always revolving, evolving, to a thread we cannot cope
But Christ did she fight with a sight to give us all a bit of hope
Thank you Dame Deborah James for what you gave
Passionate, loving and unadulterated,

Rebellious Hope ❤️

JJB

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
That depends on their vision and what drugs they sold you
Youve got a big nose
The size of a hose
But she still loves you and you're the one that she chose

Flowers make up for your imperfections
As they appear in lumpy homegrown sections
After years of built up unknown tension
It's in your eyes
Down to your thighs
But she carries on without you even having to try

We see the world in a different state
Ordering different foods all on different sized plates
Dating girls called Wendy to a transgender now called Kate
The size of His/Her hands
And the way She/He stands
If I got it right then did I actually offend?

So thats my take on the way we are going
New words to counteract as they are now just thrown in
Your Black/White/He/She but you're in the girls standing for a wee
But it is what it is
We all need a wizz
Life has changed depending on what we now see as strange

Perfection

JJB

Comparing muscles at school after a dip in the pool
Who'd hit puberty first with some hairs around their tool
And wishing it would hurry up as being the bald fool
But these things pass and are all soon forgotton
The leaders will rise while some sink to the bottom
Let them lead as I'll get by with my broken foreign
As age chases us down in a time not so prepared
Living life without a care
We goofed, we played, we dared
Now comes the time that we did scare
The paunch becomes the launch of a middle-age crisis
No more nights of depravity waking with a no-name in the local Ibis,
Time to lose weight and sign up to the Weight Watchers list
Gone are the days of tight tops, slim jeans and a part of the MOD's
From a week on site, mucking up and carrying the hod
Pack in the the Friday treat, the chips, the curry sauce and the cod
For I now have the middle aged familiar thats said
Give up in the carbs, the rice and the bread
As I now have that of what I did dread,
Hello,

The Dad ***

JJB