There on the shoreline of the island he stood
in a proud presidential stance.
Waiting with a twisted smile to be arrested
an automatic weapon in his hand!
Around him lay the wounded and slain
the carnage ended now the pain!


This male had no remorse as they led him away
choosing the moment of surrender!
It was if he had planned and orchestrated this day
police stunned and shocked being there!
At the terrible deed done by one single man
only over a very short span!

Not a flicker of remorse was ever shown
nor a reason for this wickedness!
No comfort for families to start grieving
generations that have been taken!
A peaceful nation numb it was hard to define
the vile scenes played on line!

Overwhelmed thoughts of despise for the killer
travelled around the globe.
As human savagery sank to an ultimate new low
months passed then a decision made.
This man was declared to be completely insane
actions of a disturbed brain!

But is this a conclusion that can be considered true
surely knowing his every move.
Calculated by somebody who was a psychopath
knowing his evil mission!
To be kept in a hospital setting from this day
has justice been taken away?

This crime adds another dark chapter for human kind!

The Foureyed Poet.

From high up on a building something moves slowly
below a scene of panic on a busy city centre.
This being had not been seen was it evil or holy
but within an instant would spectacularly enter.
Then the image above started to brightly glow
the moment was here like a rocket did it flow!

A robbery was taking place the gang sped away
smashing into anything that got in their path.
Pleased with the mayhem and their violent display
not concerned at the chaos or total wrath.
Racing to another car none of them saw it there
the end had come in seconds trapped in the snare!

Everything just stopped the gang was tightly bound
thousands stared at the beautiful lady on top of the car.
The four villains bruised and battered made no sound
she hovered then floated to ground a majestic star.
Was she an angel to their knees the people fell
eyes glaring no person wanted to break the spell!

Few words were spoken but every soul there understood
peace would be the key the wrongs had to be put right.
Like the tales of super heroes she was here to do good
with a smile so bright the angel faded into the night!
Shaken yet changed the crowds slowly melted away
dazed crooks wondered why did she come today?

At that very moment nobody could have taken in
this was only the beginning of the end of all sin!

The Foureyed Poet.

Power of the wind is an awesome force
as you try to get about.
Incredible strength as man is powerless
to control the elements.
Nothing can stand in the winds path
or stop its almighty wrath!

Bringing down power lines and crashing trees
nothing is safe in it's wake!
Cars tossed about like they were polystyrene
roofs ripped off just like paper.
Moving the air at a destructively fast rate
ripping off the garden gate!

Nothing can stop natures almighty surge
man's vulnerability exposed.
No matter how mankind thinks it rules earth
he is nothing and at natures mercy!
Just a tenant renting space on a long lease
as time nears for his release!

Predictions of annihilation never seems to go away
and what is written must happen some day!

The Foureyed Poet.

The bell sounds for the loss of a soldier
killed in a boundless war!
One of numerous soul destroying conflicts
blighting a world of no peace!
Leaving a trail of eternal lonely despair
with only the emptiness there.

How can one imagine the inwardness of loss
families feel for their kin.
A son a daughter or grandchild in the war
the cycle rages on!
Soldiers dying in battles has always been
from a ball of fire to plains of green.

The forces of the crown and those for a cause
have fought to the end.
Pointless waste of life so much left behind
regret and memories instilled.
Into the fabric of our very own existence
the self destructive persistence!

The bell tolled for another lost soldier!

The Foureyed Poet.

In this not so green and pleasant land
those entering is out of hand.
For others emigrations is on the rise
thinking abroad is a better prize.
Less tax and a better way to survive
here it's pointless to strive!

Born in a country you get little support
bled dry trapped we're caught.
Rapid rise in prices of domestic fuel bills
more taking the pills.
The lifetime of working has been a waste
your money gets misplaced!

Taxes are getting out of hand raising revenue
nothing improves we feel blue.
Where does the cash go we're not in the remit
squandered this they wouldn't admit!
What's the facts is our money being misused
no more can politicians be excused!

Debt is the main topic on all the news wires
we need honesty not all the liars!
Are we not easy targets for the lone frauds
thinking we are serfs to the lords.
Always those ready to cash in on the poor
compounding their misery even more!

The Foureyed Poet.

Out of the double glazed bungalow window
a weary Malcolm gazed.
Intently fixed on his nice small red car
would he drive it again?
After a short black out two months before
a bad move for sure.

A small pension like many his only income
benefits only a thought.
Not able to drive the car it stood idle
well saving petrol at least.
Luckily had a bus pass so could get about
having moments of doubt!

A few injuries sustained were now fixed
driving was not allowed.
Not until the reason was found for the fall
a heart defect discovered!
No work available or able to find it
so often here he would sit.

Waiting for an answer could take a while
must keep a basic lifestyle.

The Foureyed Poet.

Often at night I could not picture you
we had met some years passed.
In these lonely moments was it you I heard
somewhere in my head!
Faintly on the still air was it your voice
or my selected choice?

As we met again at a conference weekend
it dawned on me what you meant.
Why I did not realise before time was lost
something I can never pursue!
You are happily married this I understand
but you are in my dreamland!


Age and circumstances are beyond our control
just to know you like me!
Gives me a reason to face each empty day
some friends we meet go away.
I know love is just a distant day dream
a not meant to be theme.

To me you are so beautiful and serene
something that might have been.

The Foureyed Poet.