Laying in bed now on his own it felt wrong
when an unused mobile suddenly rang!
Half asleep answered the vibrating phone
the voice made him sit up alert
Listening in disbelief it was his wife
but he knew she'd lost her life.

Intently absorbing every single word
somehow amazing yet chilling.
He could not believe it was a real event
thinking it was just a dream.
As the voice spoke softly in his ear
he felt sure she was near.

Trying to reply there was only static
he knew the battery was flat!
Elation quickly turned to numb reality
it was his wife's own mobile!
The next day going to work in a daze
was this part of the grieving phase?

Those words spoken now haunted his life
saying she missed him very much.
And was watching from a far better place
no more was said that night.
Yet he knew she was close by his side
knowing her spirit had not died!

One day they would be together again!


The Foureyed Poet.

There The Cafe stood where once it was bare
a new monument in Weston Super Mare.
Why was it not placed in this location before
it would create tourism more.
The Cafe on the promenade not a listed grade
not open for any public trade.

Like it had always been part of local tradition
sitting in that strategic position.
Tourists trying hard to get in there for tea
the menu even looked good to me.
Others were desperate for the fancy loo
it was a TV set they hadn't a clue.

On the long wide seafront it's no real
though has that old Cafe appeal.
With a feel it's been there since the ark
it's Cyril's the place is a lark.
A hub of comical characters as they interact
the central point of fun in fact.

But the series has now been wrapped
evermore will the site be mapped.
Sadly The Cafe will be packed away
knowing it may return one day.

I know it will rise again.

The Foureyed Poet.

Deserted on the side of the road
at first I thought it was rags.
Curiosity made me go and see
a whimper and moving paw.
Shocked there lay an injured dog
next to a blood stained log!

The tears ran not good for a man
a pathetic bundle of life.
I could not leave the animal there
thrown away without care.
What human could be that cruel
for them no humane rule!

A chill ran through me as I lifted
with a clumsy nervous gate.
Placing the vexed dog on my coat
as sad eyes gazed at me!
Soon in a veterinary waiting room
as a parent feeling the gloom.

I often go by that spot on my trips
the dog is well and by my side.
So sweet laying asleep on the seat
alert when we pass the spot.
Jennie her name we are a pair
contented with shiny hair.

How many animals are never found
and die alone on waste ground?

The Foureyed Poet.

The mentality of those who suddenly ****
is a concept hard to understand.
Children are murdered in a frenzied assault
caught in a senseless act!
The husband suspected of this terrible deed
to ****** six and see them bleed.

Often nobody can recall any trouble before
until the sound of desperate screams!
That leaves neighbours in a state of shock
relatives unable to cope with the loss!
How could anyone do such a wicked thing
a question that people are always asking!

The focal point then turns to the perpetrator
those killed maybe thought of later.

Another sad and tragic slaying of a family!

The Foureyed Poet.

That big building you used to think
was always a point of interest.
Often looking inside the huge place
glancing up at the flats above.
This morning your routine changed
burned down by a mob deranged!

From a distance today you had to pass
now a burnt out blackened shell!
Survived enemy bombs during the blitz
a reflective comment often heard.
No more can this land mark be seen
where the town's history had been!

Streets that use to be smart and trim
now are burnt out and grim.
Until the different cultures unite
onward will go the fight!

The Foureyed Poet.

Joe that name sounded like a spell
that morning I felt like hell.
Without sleep the night before
then I could take no more.
Mugged on the way to a party
my demeanour was hearty.

Dragged into an alley then hit
waking I could not sit!
Afraid and shaking nobody about
all I could do was call out.
Then I heard a soft soothing sound
looking up glad to be found.

I gasped had an angel rescued me
this lady by me I could see!

She said her name was simply Joe
blood on my head flowed.
As we came to a small street cafe'
sitting as I started to sway.
Charming Joe's smile so warm
made me feel I'd ride the storm.

Silly now I asked her was she real
though Joe's softness I could feel.
I was just somebody travelling by
when I heard your pleading cry!
I could not leave you there alone
not enough compassion shown!

Joe helped me making sure I was fine
asking her to my home she declined.
Giving my number would she ring
about her I didn't know anything.
But as Joe had come she had gone
to this day for her I long!

Was Joe an angel hearing my cry
or a Samaritan chancing by?

The Foureyed Poet.

Is our society evolving guided by our own hand
cruelty and destruction accepted quietly?
As if a totally normal part of our daily toil
those working trying to pay the bills.
Encouraged to buy what they can't afford
increasing debt misery is assured!

Others they want but have no credit rating
the message you must have money!
The gap widens as those big bucks go to the few
envy and resentment grows!
Hope can only come with more shared accord
when interest replaces being bored!

Don't cut the budget is what the ***** shout
but it falls on deaf ears!
Through excessive governments bad policies
greed and material wealth rules!
An ideology buried deep within western thinking
now spreading thought patterns linking.

The cliff edge is very close stop now or fall
should be the warning to us all!

The Foureyed Poet.

The many city blocks once quiet and safe
normally busy with the locals.
Classed as a multi cultural communities
no longer has the same feel.!
Spontaneous trouble erupted on the streets
organised with thousand of tweets.

After dark the mayhem was orchestrated
and expanding into a war zone.
Police were unable to regain control
as the gangs had a free hand!
Businesses, homes were robbed and looted
the air with smoke polluted.

Gangs roaming in violent mischievous packs
no fear of police respect was gone.
A new era had dawned upon the English public
unprecedented violation on the nation.
Incredibly lost lives and injuries were not more
as people's worlds lay on the floor.

To long a delay in the politicians reaction
why no action taken before?
Before the young made a mockery of the law
reinventing mob rule!
Is it true our leaders are not really effected
and are no longer respected?

Without the confidence and trust of the public
the simmering tension will rise!
When the criminals and anarchist begin to win
what hope for a once proud nation?
With no strong government or trusted protection
there could be complete disconnection!

What will happen next and where? Be careful out there!
As into the day the violence would not go away!

Is the war really here?

The Foureyed Poet.

There is always the chance it may happen
somehow you upset somebody.
Or they take a dislike to your manner
what you say or just a look.
The real risk your family could be hurt
puts your defences on alert!

Without knowledge things start to happen
phone calls with no answer.
Near misses while walking or in your car
thinking somebody is watching!
Escalating to the smashing of your window
whose the culprit you do not know!

A damaged car who can this person be
why this awful assault?
The police do not seem to be any help
proof is what they need!
But panic and fear grows to a high pitch
afraid to touch that light switch!

The end result maybe a fatal onslaught
with the circumstances terminal!
Not only property decimated around you
life to wiped out pointlessly.
A dreadful way for lives to be taken
their consciences forsaken!

Just who is out there looking at you
waiting to hurt and ****?
Why the anger we have not a clue
evil, fanatics or classed as ill?

Nobody is safe anywhere any more!

The Foureyed Poet.

The fact the rich are getting richer
likewise the poor stay poor.
As the ones in between every where
increase the profits for the rich.
Plus pay the taxes and benefits to
not receiving the recognition.

Those with money get obscenely richer
a division is obvious to see.
Countries going bankrupt who suffers
not those with the mega bucks.
The interest covers their daily need
they are their own breed.

When we are told these times are hard
this for millionaires does not apply.
Certainly no worries how they will pay
heating motor fuel what problem?
Without any financial debt to be met
fly off on holiday in the private jet.

Those thought of as the poor draw benefits
not working it is not worth their while.
The ones in the middle are the true mugs
losing the most in every quarter.
Jobs, countless taxes the cost of living
for them life is not forgiving.

But how long before currencies are worthless
when nobody can afford to buy.
Could every being be worth the same
a meltdown of the human game!

The Foureyed Poet.

Maybe when you live all by yourself
independence is the goal.
Forgetting how to love and share
making every decision.
No splitting your life in two parts
or the breaking of hearts.

Maybe you can compare what it was like
having lived with a partner.
It all went wrong and you were left
so the choice was made.
Your now living in your own space
is it truly a better place?

Maybe you prefer having no distractions
though it can get lonely
No sharing also can make you selfish
where you could be introvert.
Finding it hard to communicate outside
with others unable to confide.

Can this be how my life will finally end
alone in my home.
Bitter and with so much negative regret
you your only friend.
Or can I seek out a companion or mate
to enjoy life's unknown fate.

The Foureyed Poet.

On the prom, in chairs of similar design
actors, support artists and crew.
Chatted in between takes as the sun shone
around the The Cafe' television set.
In a seaside town they each came together
that day it was unsettled weather.

The atmosphere was friendly nobody left out
congenial conversation not forced.
That created the mood for a great shoot
as a new comedy series was made.
On the seafront with a train ride there
passers by were everywhere.

Actors were also rehearsing another scene
under a canopy while it rained.
Fascinated I watched and laughed as well
feeling part of that moment.
In this privileged spot to observe first hand
by the sea close to the sand.
The Foureyed Poet.

Into the cinema complex they crowded
excited at seeing the horror movie.
One couple had a foreboding sensation
entering through the glass doors!
Eager to enjoy the brand new complex
their situation was vex!

They had not been in here ever before
never encountering this oppression.
Quickly that packed area soon thinned out
as the ticket staff let them in.
Each screen room was rapidly filled
a new concept in horror was billed!

Noises like chains rattling behind
certain they had seen monsters!
Trying to laugh it off as only imagination
making their way to a screening.
But to afraid to enter even open the door
something creaked on the floor!

Retreating back to where they had come
not a soul was in the entrance!
Rapid movements seem to be in the shadows
as a creatures lunged at them!
Terrible screams which way to run
not their idea of fun.

A sudden crescendo of noise and blind panic.
as ****** people came into sight!
Flesh torn bodies they were being pursued
by werewolves with a hunger!
Three D images coming from every angle.
hundreds in a nightmare tangle!

The friends nearly trampled into the carpet
as zombies ravaged nearby.
Fearing for their lives trapped in the mayhem
heading for the exit.
From video game machines soldiers appeared
the whole situation was wierd!

They went after all the surrounding creatures
smashed the glass and let them out1
As all the chaos spilled onto the forecourt
there was a blue haze and silence.
The friends were standing in the cinema carpark
one had a premonition so stark!

Looking at the poster of the horror movie
they thought it best not to go in!

The Foureyed Poet.

On that clump of rising grass and dirt
classed in history as a hill.
Through endless battles lives were lost
today this you could not tell.
A monument left for those who perished
a history that's cherished.

Not just an empty unmarked mound
but a central point.
It to could have been a long range beacon
visible from great distances.
Lay lines crossing below the earth's face
guiding alien craft from space.

A fort that in early centuries manned
to repel the invading foe.
Yet today families dog owners and walkers
enjoy the green town park.
Not burdened with tarmac or obstructions
to upset or cause any disruptions.

Here you can believe anything can be true
from the setting sun to the morning dew.

The Foureyed Poet.

Hidden behind the huge music festival
are areas where the wealthy stay!
No cheap tents or smelly toilets for them
they have luxury motor homes.
Air conditioning and laid down track
never wet clothes on their back!

In this part a mystery unfolded
as a death was discovered!
Reasons not given of what happened
while the music played on.
Those with too much money and fame
carried on their visibility game!

Orchestrating what they want you to see
fed from their publicity machine.
Thinking each is more important than the other
those with little give them the most!
What does go on out of the general publics eye
floating in a world of the living lie!

Is a music festival the place to be seen?

The Foureyed Poet.

Facing that massive audience on the big stage
gave him that overwhelming dignity.
Struggling for how many years hard to recall
sheer willpower and that passion.
To develop his act as a singer who cared
for the many fans this night he shared!

Before he started he could hardly breath
such a loud roar hit his entire being!
Energizing and making this experience complete
the mass of colour and sound.
No short cuts on reality type talent shows
he himself suffered the highs and lows!

This the pinnacle of his own success
nerves aside this moment to cares!

The Foureyed Poet.

Countless witnesses saw them materialize
in the late evening skies.
Not any type of planes seen before
no earthly flying machines!
About six is what seemed perfectly clear
each coming uncomfortably near.

Other sightings reported but not like these
a dazzling display as one dived.
Crashing with an explosion then ball of fire
fire engines were deployed.
Tackling the immense blaze they were puzzled
being told any talk was muzzled.

Damping the hot embers they found creatures
never seen here before!
Alive on the burning scorched ground.
small with big red eyes.
Clawed hands and horns on the head.
were they something to dread?

The firemen captured one in a net
what was happening here?
They took it to the hospital injured
not wanting to touch.
Medical staff repulsed at its vision
what could be done the decision!

The other lights went out and were gone
a curfew then imposed.
Stories were rife of devils in the wild
the government denied it was so!
Mistaken identity the reason given
once again the truth hidden!

From the start the military took over
like Roswell facts changed quickly!
Reliable sources gagged or somehow died
rumors of a plane taking evidence
Out of the country to a specific destination
adding disturbing speculation!

So the mystery deepens what is going on
people know something is wrong!

WHAT!

As these were likely the alien crafts cargo
not the crew so the conspiracy will grow!

The Foureyed Poet

That sweet scent wafted in the warm breeze
the moment before we met.
From then on my life was changed
love came with your perfume.
Each of my emotions in hyper drive
until then not alive.

Your perfume was so intoxicating
a doting slave I became.
One direction to achieve your attention
passion drew me under it's spell.
This energy and intensity could not last
one day a shadow was cast!

I became yesterdays man brushed away
when somebody else was snared.
Like me the perfume pulled them within
my heart shattered as I watched.
Another laying prostrate at your feet
no way could I take defeat.

Jealousy never far from the passion of love
not caring when I sighted you.
Unable to control my basic human instincts
attacking forcibly my rival.
Feeling betrayed and the only one hurt
soon my body would hit the dirt!

Standing here a noose around my neck
guilty of deeply loving you!
Even as the trap door beneath me is released
the perfume will linger always.
Never regretting that deep emotional ride
you will be with me inside!

Love and jealousy unceasing like your perfume!

The Foureyed poet.

The droning above was so familiar
all the bombings not resolved.
There was nothing they could do
civilians targeted below!
Families lost with no mercy killed
deep hatred was instilled.

This was the only life they knew
childhoods never known.
Playing not with toys but with guns
not good for photo albums.
Living in ruins without basic needs
sectarian divides where it leads.

In many cultures it's passed down
can hardened attitudes change?
Is peace the outcome they really want
as elders remain entrenched.
What chance of future generations to seek
with strong unity that is meek!

Will we ever see unilateral peace?

The Foureyed Poet.

Honestly I do love you Jill
well maybe it's lust.
Ah what did I say your still
as beautiful it's just.
Well we all age with time
it's not a crime.

Honestly I do feel the same
how we met was odd.
An accident I took the blame
when on your foot I trod
Did not see you with the tray
then on the floor you lay.

Tripping over you with my drink
staining your new dress.
At the time what I said I didn't think
you already looked a mess.
It was really taken out of context
you were very vexed.

But we put that all behind us
our first anniversary.
I know you don't want a fuss
it's not true it was scary.
Honestly the year has been great
though this I could debate.


Sorry Jill just a slip of my thoughts
you are my lovely wife.
I like it when you wear your **** shorts
it's a compliment on my life!
Yes I'll lower my voice in the restaurant
if that's what you want.

Her's to our second year together
no I'm not looking at that lady!
Well alright I do work with Heather
there's nothing shady.
Honestly there's nothing between us
why are you making a fuss?

Surely it's best to drink the wine
not throw the bottle at my head!
Honestly Jill I'm innocent your divine
you're going home to bed?
Please stay I've booked us into to a hotel
you don't mean go to hell!

Please don't go I'll get the bill and pay
shame you threw the cake.
To much drinking is that the reason
or is our marriage out of season?

Here's looking forward to another year
honestly I do love you dear!

The Foureyed Poet

The bullet was made by an expert
discovered when removed.
At the autopsy of a young guy
one of several just arrived.
Not a gang war it was known
but a ****** working alone.

The public scared out of their wits
the police under pressure.
Three dead this boy the latest victim
attacks in varied locations.
Was it by somebody from the military
an expert with a unique ability.

No clues was not good to hear
the public afraid to be here.
Tall buildings made them easy targets
when would the next strike be.
Though summer the temperature cold
through information they trolled.

As another victim was gunned down
more evidence was found.
Two teenagers saw a man with a case
get into a city works van.
Contacting with what they had seen
a new image came on the screen!

Every law officer was instantly alerted
a face found to fit description.
An ex soldier with traumatic stress
caution the critical word.
Quickly a sighting was received
the entire force relieved.

A gun battle ensued policemen hurt
not killed in the line of duty.
A swat team eventually shot him dead
in a disused ammunition factory.
News soon spread of the snipers demise
the gloom factor began to rise.

You can never argue with a bullet!

The Foureyed Poet.

From the cafe seat I saw a spacecraft land
huge and menacing there.
Glistening in the midday sunlight
the view was surreal.
Until then it was a relaxing day
now filled with dismay.

Others began to gather around
nothing moved by the craft.
What was happening I started fretting
a dual carriageway lay behind.
Helicopters came roaring over my head
as the tension spread.

I'm sure we all expected shooting
but that did not happen.
An intake of breath was all I heard
instead of running away.
None moved what would happen next
every face looked perplexed.

They all landed groups approached
we waited for a bang!
I had to get nearer long past fear
just stupendous anticipation.
That once in a lifetime experience
a memory so immense.

Now the police and press gathered
it looked orchestrated.
The authorities were definitely prepared
getting near a camera crew.
On their monitor screens it was clear
wanting to know I had to peer.

Humanoid beings came out of the ship
greeting the delegation.
They all went inside the oblong sphere
we expected the worst!
Thousands of people at least amassed
as it rose my eyes cast.

They were going to the mother ship
with delegations from each nation!
Nothing had been said arranged in secret
this news too big to hide.
Oddly it was felt this the only way
that was yesterday!

There has been no information yet
the fear lost is back like a fast jet!

What is really going on up there?

The Foureyed Poet.

Through the trees I could see piercing lights
nothing was supposed to be here.
Objects illuminated and darting about above
yet the silence was like death.
What had I stumbled upon on my wrong turn
before long this I would learn.

I could not escape the car had no power
even my mobile seemed drained!
Feeling I was an intruder being there
trying to stay quiet.
Eager to find out what I had come across
walking on a layer of moss.

Hardly able to take a breath I drew near
through the undergrowth.
A flickering sound behind I just froze
something grabbed me!
Losing consciousness at that point
waking aching in every joint.

Where was I my immediate reaction
prostrate in an open landscape.
Cautiously sitting to explore visually
drawn to raise my eyes.
I saw thousands of unknown craft
was it real or was I going daft?

Struggling to get up acting as if drunk
heading back the way I came.
Confused wondering why I was alive
thankful I was unhurt!
No idea then inside was an alien spore
a different kind of war.

In my car again everything worked
my phone started to ring.
My wife was worried why I was not home
on the tv the lights big news.
Not realizing the alien invasion was here
but soon the price would be clear!

There are more getting sick as I speak
now I am becoming weak!

Is there any hope for mankind?

The Foureyed Poet.

Their bones lay beneath blood soaked dirt
harrowing stories to be told.
Slaughter and suffering of millions of men
shame upon the instigators of war!
Cries of despair pain an unanswered pray.
with no other soul to share.

Men stuck deep in mud unable to move
officers shooting their own men.
To end their suffering in a lingering hell
here fighting day and night.
In the filth and water filled trenches
rats and no resting benches.

Soldiers who were boys in the battle
should have been home at school.
Instead dying in a ferocious needless war
so many went so few came home.
Forever remembered for their sacrifice
lost generations a terrible price!

Trenches like coffins how can we ever understand?

The Foureyed Poet.

The eagle soured high over the mountain
seeking out it's prey to attack.
Deadly but graceful in its locomotion
with a backdrop of trees and snow.
Below the target was soon alerted
in the open cover deserted!

Like radar the eagle honed in precisely
swooping eyes fixed ready to ******.
A magnificent flying predator in the skies
his priority food was on the way.
Wings spread wide vicious talons drawn
as the sun rose to a new dawn.

The Foureyed Poet.

The horse stood healthy proud and tall
unaware of the journey ahead.
Roughly being pulled from her stall
on unstable ground to tread.
World war one would soon start
many families to be torn apart.

All over the horses were being bought
to be shipped to the impending war.
Fine strong animals the army sought
ever needing more and more.
This was a big event in this tiny village
to them it was official pillage.

In the crowd stood a lad brooding
the horse given to him as a gift.
Now he had to watch his eyes protruding
the auctioneer's hammer began to lift.
Within seconds quickly with a bang it fell
bitterly knowing he had to sell!

The army took charge of his eminent steed
not even allowed to say goodbye.
When they left his horse took the lead
he was not going to cry.
Ridden by a soldier almost his age
feeling the rising despair and rage!

The horses and men moved in slow motion
his heart sank what could he do?
Villagers to recruited with no notion
of where they were going to.
Determined to follow and bring her back
foolish but courage he didn't lack!

Weeks later at night Daniel crept out
his love for his horse so strong.
A perilous journey but for him no doubt
he could not see it was wrong.
Anaba his friend meaning return from war
this he would do on her back once more.

Yet unsure if he would return his tale to tell!

The Foureyed Poet.

As I sat on that high ridge to take a rest
during a lull in the fighting.
I had a front seat on a bleak image
thousands were dead.
Huge mushroom clouds were rising
how I was alive surprising!

Another bright blast hit the valley
then another flash!
Down the hill with a mighty force
injured facing the angry sky
Shocked at what I had seen and heard
in the news no hint no word!

No warning of a nuclear strike
rumbles of descent heard.
Conflict was just every day news
nations wanting to be free.
Sinister groups each rebel state
certainly wouldn't hesitate.

Struggling to stand moving forward
visibility down to a few feet.
Dim lights appeared just ahead.
it was a vehicle from my unit.
Safely picked up returned to base
seeking news of the human race!

Finding out it had been limited
to only a few countries.
The world would suffer for this deed
the destruction of life.
Nothing could be the same again
an act pointless and insane!

Since the mushroom clouds first came
everybody felt they were to blame.
Every nation had no choice but to unite
no more determination to fight!

Survival can only be achieved by working together!

The Foureyed Poet

It's easy to imagine your not alone
in an empty silent room.
Sitting still in a camp chair waiting
for any sounds or movement.
Next calling out is anybody there
risking giving yourself a scare.

Often in the darkness with a torch
as you feel that coldness.
Was that somebody touching your hair
sounds to can easily deceive.
Giving our imaginations plenty to digest
seeking ghosts their time to invest.

Spending hours in different locations
there are those who don't believe.
Others who do looking to seek out more
many methods and beliefs mingle.
As they each explore this unknown field
hoping to find that elusive yield.

Nobody is certain what is real or not
theories abound on life after death.
Famous people said they would return
leaving behind a secret code.
Those holding this are aging and waiting
with all the psychics still debating.

True or false do spirits really exist
if we knew it would stop the hunt.
Maybe somebody does and won't say
is it when we're dead we're dead!
Mediums are tricksters putting on an act
can this really be the fact?

Is this an elaborate myth as many think
or will it turn out to be true? I wonder!

The Foureyed Poet.

Somebody reminded me of the house
so picturesque serene on it's own.
Twisting narrow single track lanes
made the visits such a pleasure.
Where sounds and vision were unique
somewhere many would like to seek.

Isolation was what my family wanted
not blocked in by endless buildings.
Transport was walking or a horse and cart
a lot can change through the decades.
The once small town then started to grow
at first the expansion was slow.

Actually the house still stands today
regrettably not in that lonely plot.
Houses and trading estates now border
forever only a special memory.
Realizing the countryside has vanished
where green fields are banished.

Progress is not always the best way forward!

The Foureyed Poet.

The red light shone brightly stopping me
frustration more road works.
Blocked yet another stretch of road
the last stop only a mile back.
Engine overheating as I sat yet again
wishing now I'd taken the train.

The light never seemed to change to green
saw two workers standing still.
Traffic building up for miles behind
now late for my destination.
Feeling claustrophobic within a confined space
if only we'd move at any pace.

Where does the funds go for these repairs
not on the roads that's for sure.
Big holes left often with nobody near them
counting these now instead of sheep.
At last the traffic is moving along once more
foot down on the accelerator.

Oh no another sign road works ahead!

The Foureyed Poet.

Her scarred wrist is what I noticed first
looking so petrified and frail.
Going in because I had a real thirst
with a complexion so pale.
On impulse went up to her and spoke
not wanting to provoke.

Timid I thought she cowered at my voice
moving back very shaken.
Feeling in this busy place I had no choice
was my attraction mistaken?
Turning to leave on my arm a cold touch
wanting to say so much.

A brightness came into her mood
as we talked a little more.
From then on I had no time to brood
being the start of the gore.
Shocked to find this was a vampires lair
my friends to were unaware.

Why I had no fear of her I'll never know
there was a connection.
The other vampires drained my mates very slowly
in my arm I felt an injection.
It was her fangs but she drank a short measure
to revive and for pleasure.

Taking my hand pulling with a firm grip
we quickly left that nightmare.
I felt as if I was on a psychedelic drug trip
what happened I didn't care.
Telling me the reason our blood had mixed
looking at her I was transfixed.

Stunning now in my eye sight so beautiful
out in the daylight.
She went to kiss me I bowed to her rule
this time I felt a bite!
Next memory waking in a hospital bed
hard to believe I wasn't dead!

I had lost a lot of blood I was told
but I would be well.
Yet knowing inside I would not get old
this I could not tell.
Sensing nearby my love was waiting
of this there was no debating!

Quietly leaving she was outside
my thirst had returned.
Hand in hand I walked with pride
now it was blood I yearned!

The Foureyed Poet.

A car passed at speed the middle aged driver
unhappy at the narrow miss.
He shouted out in an abusive manner
not realizing the window was open.
The four youths looked at each other
saying ' he'll regret that brother'.

The man did realize something was wrong
as the car sped away he saw them turn.
What had he done who were these guys
seeing their car he took another route.
But they were soon  coming up behind
entering a road that was tree lined.

Busy traffic swerving to avoid being hit
their car smashed into his rear.
Then their powerful motor side swiped him
hitting the now total wreck.
His seat belt protecting his very life
as one came at him with a knife.

Trapped he could not move an inch
sound of sirens could be heard.
Yet the youth lunged in the open window
slashing his already broken arm.
Terrified he shouted out loudly again
now in so much pain!

Somehow getting back in their car
into nowhere they went.
As help arrived on the once quiet road
residence coming out in force.
The case months on not yet solved
nobody wanted to get involved!

The youths are still out there somewhere!

The Foureyed Poet.

It was if I was transported back to my past
looking at the railway building.
You can sense the ghosts of a bygone age
when travelling was fun.
Clicking of wheels on the metal track
brings such happy memories back.

Through the Severn valley it chugged along
young and old enjoying the relaxing pace
Very romantic with the nostalgia of steam
passing stations as they use to be.
Signal boxes with all their manual levers
makes even sceptics believers.

Within thy minds eye nature engulfs you
on the train life is green not blue.

The Foureyed Poet

The excitement built as I approached the station
you could smell the smoke from the engine.
Before you entered the stations enticing doors
you could see the shunter's in the sidings.
Black smoke and steam rising blending into one
the joy of the impending journey had begun.

Our memories are often all we have left
of the days we were young as age creeps on.
Bad thoughts fade as you only think of the good
steam trains dominated when I was a lad.
Boys then all wanted to be the driver of the train
in the early days of Elizabeth's reign.

Far less roads and motor vehicles to pollute
the countryside was ****** more rural.
An era when trains had more lines to travel
a pleasure for everybody to go roving.
A special treat to get people to the coast
an adventure not something to boast.

Looking at the chaos around us now
my young days were glorious.
Before the innocence was drained in the ether
simplicity the key to sanity.
A day train spotting was the weekend treat
then was very hard to beat.

The holiday to the Isle Of Wight by steam train
then across on the ferry I remember.
When my special mother was there very much alive
the past is the past now my memory.
Unique I learned I am not, millions feel the same
staring at a faded picture in an old frame.

Rekindles that long gone excitement.

The Foureyed Poet.

The road to nowhere is a lonely trek
where more find their journey leads.
Despair often nobody really cares
left to fend for their lives.
Predators lurk ready to pounce
no mercy not even an ounce.

A mine field for the innocent
the alert stand a chance.
Their families there to give support
for many nobody is at hand.
Exploitation the punters approach
as the evil rapidly encroach!

Stories of young lives destroyed
are heart wrenching news reports.
Bodies being found talk of a serial killer
with the physical degradation.
Corrupting the thoughts of the population
as daily it's the topic of conversation.

When these monsters have children
still coldly ending young life spans.
Denying them of any hope of a future
the love they could have shared.
Leaving empty pages in mans history
can only remain a mystery!

Man will always be a savage creature
callous in his detachment of emotion!
Not everyone is part of this dark feature
on that road to nowhere!

The Foureyed Poet.

The word divorce has endless meanings
many couples part without malice.
Mutually agreeing to separate lives
property and thoughts divided.
Staying friends others enemies for life
regretting ever being man and wife!

Yet when children are in the equation
trouble really begins to build.
Each wanting the children with them
being a close part of their situation.
Courts and high costs are in the play
their wishes ignored anyway.

For years the arguments can rage
with untold damage done.
Selfishness of the individuals own thoughts
cloud the sensible approach.
But these are times of heightened tension
each are careful what they mention.

As the costs get tighter legal aid restricted
common sense needs to prevail.
But those who can afford to battle on regardless
the self indulgence of material wealth.
And haggling over their children's well being
creating future problems I'm foreseeing!

Do We Not Create Our Own Misfortunes?

The Foureyed Poet.

Have you ever sat on a bench alone
when all you can utter is a grown?
At rock bottom thinking negative
not really wanting to live!
Problems insurmountable no money
nothing in life you find funny.

Can't be bothered to wash or shave
knowing you have become knave.
Not to others in crime but to yourself
your being left on a dusty shelf.
Every thought is nearer to despair
others around you're not aware!

Wallowing in self pity I've been there
eyes glazed you just stare.
A day seems an eternity without hope
pills or hang by the rope!
I did overcome those dark ages
filled with silent rages!

I had to find the strength and seek
ask for help learn not to be weak.
But some can't face the demons inside
no matter how hard they tried.
Deeper into themselves they travel
to complicated to unravel!

I can only hope your answer will be found.

The Foureyed Poet.

I could see you holding my hand
tears fell on my cold skin.
How hard to see your mourning
over the body I lived in.
Even in death love never ended
this moment could not be mended.

Your despair and emptiness was clear
no pain or fear bothered me now.
I wanted to hold you like we use to
at my funeral the family looked sad
Wanting to shout out I'm here
there was no fear.

You scattered my ashes so gently
with an expression of peace.
Still the tears filled those blue eyes
without regret I had to leave.
In you I will always believe
knowing you were able to grieve.

Into the light I go with ease.

Now I wait For you.

The Foureyed Poet.

Despair is never far from the minds of many
in a society that revolves around money.
Nobody is immune from feeling deeply low
when nothing can brighten your day.
Desperation drives more of us to gamble
hoping for that win onward we ramble.

Competitions and the lottery we play
spending our few resources on hope.
There are those they say the lucky ones
who do win but some can't cope.
Pressures abound as costs keep rising
more end their lives it's not surprising.

When you hear of another big winner
it's hard not to envy their fortune.
knowing how many entries you made
despair is often overwhelming.
But it's a vicious cycle a hollow dream
as people pursue to the extreme.

Spending their lives in perpetual torment
trying to win the big money.
Which becomes an obsession in their family.
in which nothing else matters.
And misery is all that they remember
to each and every family member.

Wealth surely goes beyond material gain
despair has no boundaries of pain!

The Foureyed Poet.

The howl should have warned me
but first it did not register.
That day amazingly tranquil
not a cloud polluted the blue
The sky high above my head
that's when I should have fled.

Miles of moorland was the scene
freedom had a fresh meaning.
Sheep and ponies roamed freely
without pollution I carried on.
Then the illusion was shattered
when the animals scattered.

A violent blow struck my back
falling into the course grass.
Blood tainted the spot where I fell
it was mine I realised then the pain!
What had attacked me had gone
but it was vicious and strong.

I must have passed out now it was dark
yet I was still alive but hurt.
Cold very scared oozing and sore
it was hard to actually move a tall.
Again I heard that pitiful howl
or as I hoped only a lonely owl.

As darkness blanketed the moors
the moons glow lit up my path.
Now knowing werewolves existed
those gashes in my flesh so sore.
Unable to go on any further drained
somehow my sanity was maintained.

I awoke once more to warm daylight
how I walked was just a blur.
Arriving at a clump of trees by a stream
there I saw a young woman.
Surprised to see me she sat quietly there
with a hidden dread I could only stare.

Before I could speak she had gone away
on the ground my torn jacket lay.

I now dread the full moon each month!

The Foureyed Poet.

I seem to wander like a lost soul
no longer knowing what is my role.
Divorced and alone it must be said
with a deep seated sense of dread.
This mood has started to linger
the reason I'm unable to finger.

Not able to settle whatever I do
at home or out always being blue.
Alone and unable to be at rest
it feels like I'm losing a test.
Lost not synchronised out of tune
in a never ending sand dune.

I want to engage in what's around
lack of passion like a restless hound.
All I wanted to achieve is in the past
as the days are rushing away too fast.
Panic has set in where do I turn
in the end to be wanted I yearn.

I seem to wander lost within myself!

The Foureyed Poet.

Life was hard in those early days
in Swindons rail work shops.
Where conditions were basic and harsh
working long hours in the heat and noise.
Furnaces blazed to create the power
forging the steel needed to mold.
Magmificent living steam engines
made with passion and skill its told.
Workers couldn't watch the clock
wages were only counted in shillings.
The Great Western railway the employer.
new Swindon was born out of the works.
Stone iron and steele covered the land
at the bottom of Kingshill.
Industrial progress increased sharply
where the land once laid still.
Rows  of houses were built for the toilers
and a hospital soon rose from the ground.
The church of St Marks so they could pray
a park to unwind in their limited leisure.
In a community of people helping each other
located by the main London to Bristol line.
Enjoying their annual holidays together
when the steam works looked fine.
Nineteen eighty five the gate shut for good
a retail outlet now where the works stood.

The Foureyed Poet.

That familiar sound of a helicopter approaching
out of nowhere its search light focused.
Down onto a desolute and lonely moorland
quickly joined by a second one.
But what is the true intention of their task
as a figure looks up wearing a mask.

No ordinary being sitting there in isolation
as soldiers approach with guns.
Nearby a circular craft of unknown origin
lays damaged amongst the grass.
Away from the view of a watching public
the covert operation is slick.

Taken alive the alien is roughly removed
put into a third chopper nearby.
Two other bodies are bagged and tagged
the sight is cleared of any evidence.
Reports of an object seen falling denied
once again the military have lied.

How many incidents have really occured
the public know nothing about?
The real truth of an extra terrestial existence
rather than endless misinformation.
Was Roswell fact or fiction what is area fifty one
when will the real truth be done?

The Foureyed Poet. The Foureyed Poet

From the shore line two young lovers
were stunned to see a light.
That shot out at very high speed
from the wide open ocean.
Then hovered high in the night sky
vanishing at the blink of the eye.

No time to speak or run very far
when another rose from the sea.
Not a chance of getting to the car
nor seen anything like this before.
The water lit up in a dazzling glow
it became the main show!

On a ship others watched the display
coming very close to the deck.
They could clearly see below the surface
many lights moving quickly about.
Unidentified objects what was going on
aliens are here right or wrong?

Is this a mystery to only the public
and the conspiracies are true?
They have been on earth all along
co existing known by few?
What is the truth how I'd love to know
but honestly can you see it so?

Too many have witnessed these sights
not all are natural or man made kites!

The Foureyed Poet.

Behind the glamour and blinding lights
of the vast entertainment industry.
With these so called beautiful happy folk
is there a sordid and bleak underworld?
As each one thinks they are certainly the best
surely time is the true quality test.

Vast sums spent to create the perfect image
the creators shown as almost godly figures.
All trying to grab the money and true fame
how many fall by the wayside in this quest?
In hard times the public have so little cash
to splash out on an even bigger bash.

Television pushing the seekers of their fortune
while the mentors strive for their own goals.
A false image is created for these large audiences
who to need a focus and images to contemplate.
Performances that for some takes a high cost
as the hopefuls fail their dreams lost.

There are of course winners and losers
but as you watch and read the news.
Filled with the exploits of these artists
spending and living lavish lives.
That most of us can only ever visualize
what really lays behind the lies?

The Foureyed Poet.

Has that dark feeling come over you
when a veil clouds your mind.
A depression mode out of the blue
alone no hope you can only cry.
That empitness you cannot fill
a moment you lose all will.

On your own with no good thoughts
asking yourself what use am I?
Dreading the future you have ahead
nothing uplifts your mood.
Then it's gone your better again
you have you're life to maintain.

Pressure is put upon each one of us
fighting to survive not wanting to fuss.
But there are those who can't cope
and succumb giving up hope!

The Foureyed Poet.

An arctic wind is blowing not only by natures fury
winters getting more unpredictable.
Reflected in the uncertainty of human attitude
towards even their own families.
The chill spreading like an invisible veil
upon on the humanity of man.
Causing a depression amongst every culture
above us awaits the hungry vulture.

The usual story material gain is all that matters
wasted misspent squandered.
Why worry its public funds don't spend wisely
it could have given better roads.
Certainly prepared us for harsh winters today
more salt and gravel to spray.

The early freeze weather patterns changing
quality services not given.
Nature is in command man is powerless
to halt natures will upon us.
This does not deter some causing more woe
wanting to see nuclear mushrooms glow.

Increasing around the earth an arctic wind is blowing
the weather and economic depression is growing.

The Foureyed Poet.

There she layed alone in the snow
many people were searching.
Her name and image everywhere
silent frozen on the verge.
Somebody had ended her lifeforce
murdered with no remorse.

Evil person loitering in the shadows
waiting to pounce on others.
Destroying a precious living spark
for thier dispicable reasons.
Thrown aside like unwanted trash
a future wiped out in a flash.

Loved ones left with unspeakable rage
a Christmas day tragedy.
That will haunt them each festive season
always on hold without them.
Not opening thier presents but in a grave
a daughter you could not save.

There she layed on her own in the snow
taken cruelly and young.
Life should have been plentiful and long
knowing you can't right this wrong.

Hoping you're at rest in that long sleep
forgive us if we quietly weep.
    The Foureyed Poet.

Behind the wall three lads hovered
with intent on stealing petrol.
Ever ready to take rather than pay
it was more than two pounds!
For just a single litre of unleaded
could it be jail they were headed.

Not new at this dangerous business
risking not only being caught.
But the chance it could catch fire
they didn't care it was free
Fancy paying that much for car fuel
stealing now that was cool.

Motorists sruggling to fill their tanks
the cost was far too high!
But the government kept putting it up
the gangs adding to the misery.
As the population began to really tire
their patience about to expire!


A time comes when the limit is reached
the human spirit is breached!
To much is taken with little given back
then society is on an unsafe track!

Criminals always ready to con and steal
the public always losers in the deal!

The Foureyed Poet.

I saw the thousands of students gathering
peacefully protesting on the whole.
Until the small radical elements arrived
not being in a distant country.
But on the streets of old historic London
and spreading to other cities.
An underlying current of frusteation
denying the stability of a nation.

Taxes rising the lowering of living standards
the future generations angry.
With more elderly living and far fewer young
a small core of the mega rich.
Fuelling anarchist to violently show their hand
governments not setting a good image,
As promises made to voters are totally ignored
the people tiring of politicians has soared.

Companies allowed to make vast sums of cash
passing on the costs to the public.
Boosting profits and shareholders balances
multi levels of bitterness develops.
Each thinking they are the ones oppressed
creating resentment and envy.
Splitting a struggling society into fractions
determined to take drastic actions.

Rebellion and anarchy not new to man
destructive elements that don't achieve.
In the end our race can only last if it's one clan
working together because they believe.

Or is this another cycle coming to the end?

The Foureyed Poet.