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The man sat bills crumpled on the table
how was he going to pay?
Worked all his life always done his best
now had been laid off.
His wife had just left said couldn't cope
to her mums she did *****.

Their two children went with her as well
nothing he could do.
As the debt collectors hounded him daily
this was his lowest ebb.
Trying to find ways to pay what he owed
the strain in his eyes showed!

Within a few months he was on the street
now of no fixed abode.
The bailiffs came had done their duty
from a working man to this!
Reduced to sleeping where he could find
to his future was resigned.

Managed to get into a hostel for a night's break
and met a woman who cared.
Listened and offered to get his life in order
that was what he needed.
To give him hope and see his kids once more
again have his own front door.


Through finding that flickering guiding light
he helped others in a similar plight!

The Foureyed Poet
A working man whose life came crashing down. But for him there was somebody willing to help. The Foureyed Poet.
Upon those streets the blood did run
children playing having fun.
The soldiers came cold and callous
their hearts filled with malice.
Nobody was immune no mercy shown
seeds of hatred were sown!

That day was but another in their fight
to see the next morning light.
Food a luxury all amenities destroyed
with their lives the army toyed.
Oppression and misery all they knew
surely a reason they were due.

The bombs rained down on the meek
their bodies increasingly weak.
Resistance grew the houses crumbled
and the ground rumbled.
Their faith through adversity not shaken
though many loved ones taken!

This scenario has forever been repeated
their spirit can never be defeated.
Nothing changes in the history of mankind
always the aggressors and maligned.
Centuries have passed the coffins filled
forever the innocent killed!

The Foureyed Poet.
Through human history mankind repeats the same pattern in their quest for *******! No mercy or compassion is shown! The Foureyed Poet.
From a quiet tiny stream into a raging torrent
as high volumes of rain falls with intent.
Onto the grasslands forming artificial lakes
lives property and businesses high stakes.
Swollen rivers burst their banks flooding homes
as the surge of water indiscriminately roams.

That heavy rain that never seems to stop pouring
down on the streets at speed it comes roaring!
Into many properties in its way water is merciless
cold and filthy always leaving a trail of mess.
Sodden ground unable to absorb man an obstacle
flooding becomes soul destroying and cruel!

Misery and heartache as the fast wind blows
and heavy rain saturates the water flows!

The Foureyed Poet.
Flooding too often follows heavy rain fall. Especially as more properties are built on flood plains! And drains are unable to cope with the increasing volumes of water! The Foureyed Poet.
Going back to the place of my early youth
was a big mistake.
Remembering the luscious meadows
air so clean singing birds.
Country lanes a small running stream
sound of an engine of steam.

The thick dark smoke billowing behind
through unspoilt land.
Our heritage there for everybody to enjoy
small villages and hamlets.
Animals of all kinds living without threat
no sounds of a passing jet!

Shocked at what  I saw and what time had done
no more the countryside.
Where such beauty had been a trading estate
the small town an urban mess.
No trees the stream now under a motorway
an unkempt park in which to play!

Traffic and fumes now filled my sad gaze
as I compared my memories.
And the happy days then safe to explore
all of our natures graces.
Standing on what was once a grass hillside
now under houses this did hide!

This seems the way of life today!

The Foureyed Poet.
I was shocked to go back to the place of my youth and see what had happened to that beautiful place! The Foureyed Poet.
There are countries written about in religious text
where ancient sites stand.
Identified through connection with holy books
that are wondrous and sacred.
Even after the centuries of constant hatred and war
now peace is what they need more!

But with conflicts embedded into hearts and minds
misery has become part of living.
Holy places to millions and home to millions more
in a vast ravaged landscape!
Many beliefs tearing these nations into shreds
as the violence continues to spread!

Peaceful coexistence seems to be only a theory
families killed and seperated.
Amongst the olive groves palm trees and deserts
the proud humble and the meek.
Constant fear in the lands religions hold so dear
can once again a saviour appear?

The familiar sounds of explosions and gunfire
how many more lives do we let expire?

Can mankind ever find the road to peace?

The Foureyed Poet.
Countries ravaged by wars for centuries are written about in religious texts. The Foureyed Poet.
The ancient town of Glastonbury stands proud
known for its famous tor.
And ley lines that converge in fertile earth
surrounded by human history.
Mystical today commercialised they flock
soaking up power and to rock.

As this isolated Somerset town is engaging
colourful characters thrive.
Bringing the past and its history to life
as Pagans and Christians mingle.
Once an island surrounded by marshland
an aura of magic is at hand.

Here there's a sense of timeless wonder!

The Foureyed Poet.
A visit to the ancient town of Glastonbury leaves its mark in your thoughts. The Foureyed Poet.
In the shadows it stood fangs dripping blood
a spectre of evil observing!
After midnight on a still crowded walkway
camouflaged in a vantage point.
Dressed in a long black coat eager to proceed
a vampire needing to feed!

That urge to hunt and track unsuspecting prey
gave it such a morbid thrill!
Leaving no clues after each savage ****
ripping flesh with its fangs.
Instinct indicating a second feed was near
their heartbeat he could hear.

A lone woman walked at an increasing pace
down a dark muddy lane.
After a row with her drunken boyfriend
distracted in her thoughts.
Too fast for any screams or make a break
as her life it did take!

Long sharp fangs sank deep into her soft flesh
soon he had his fill for now.
Lacking emotion he left her there satisfied
that this hunt was done.
Back into the dank shadows it retreated
tonight's feast completed!

Licking the blood off it's fangs! Vanished!

The Foureyed Poet.
In the shadows it waited ready to feed! The Foureyed Poet.
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