Drunk I can honestly say it has been rare
for me to be in this condition.
Enjoying a social drink causing no trouble
in moderation should be the rule.
There are those where ***** is an addiction
for them drink has no restriction!

Going out each week clubbing a regular ritual
start drinking before they leave.
Alcohol on board before they get to the clubs
already unsteady on their feet!
Some it would take little to start any trouble
many ending in dirt and rubble!

Unable to control emotions more likely the fist
as they cause injury and damage!
Inhibitions self respect are now long forgotten
vomiting and urinating on the streets.
Police are busy as their numbers ever deplete
every week it's the same repeat!

Many are drunk and oblivious of those around
in a deep unconsciousness mode.
Far too many ready to cause extreme violence
others die on their night out!
Casualty units are overflowing with drunks
who act no better than punks!

Liquor one of the most addictive potions
causing misery for all who succumb!
A social problem for the nation to confront
as young people see no harm!
Drinking more now than their parents do
that's the indicator things are blue.

Everything in moderation is my own motto
but life today has become a lotto!

The Foureyed Poet

That early morning ****** air tasted pure
birds began to rise singing.
The veil of the night lifted for a new dawn
a cockerel then crowed.
Fields still green trees standing unscathed
land yet unpaved!

Untouched by developers or planners curse
a tranquil reminder.
How the countryside was before the building
took natures beauty away
I remember that unblemished infinity gaze
through the natural haze!

With a clear surveillance of the distant landscape
creatures in their habitats.
Still undisturbed of man's advances in evidence
without his blundering hand.
When machines came to carve up hills and dales
lost forever lands and trails!

Lose respect of the environment sacrifice the future!

The Foureyed Poet.

The man alone sat in the restaurant
as people talked about him.
Somehow he had become a real loner
nobody talked to him.
He never spoke to anybody close by
losing the will to try.

The man alone had not always been like this
he'd been married twice.
Blessed with four children and socialised
yet lacked something.
He was not considered a long term friend
lacking a chemical blend?

The man alone began to feel more depressed
watching others socialise.
What lay ahead the past didn't cheer him up
questioning his purpose.
Isolation was becoming more of an issue
his future not even he knew!

The Foureyed Poet.

The airport was at its usual daily peak
thousands wanting to fly away.
Frustrations mounting with each delay
but eventually this flight.
Departed late evening on runway 201
glittering in the dusky sun.

From the ground it looked a perfect take off
but it was not alone!
Besides the sleek aircraft was a disc like object
keeping pace as it rose!
Ground crew were afraid it could be a missile
at least for a short while.

The air force were alerted it stayed along side
passengers saw the disc.
Silver in colour no markings they could see
none of the crew had a clue.
Speeding ahead it turned on a collision course
towards them at G force!

The plane started to take emergency evasive action
to avoid a fatal impact!
In the control tower nothing showed up on radar
even though it could be seen!
After about twenty minutes it started to glow
then seemed to slow.

As witnesses watched silently it split into two
instantly into space it flew!
The plane crew decided to continue their flight
no air force jets caught the UFO that night!

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.

The elderly man sat reminiscing over his life
now unable to walk far.
Breathing in oxygen through a nasal tube
he knew it wouldn't be long.
Shortly after in his sleep he quietly passed
at his funeral the truth masked!

Outwardly thought of as a charming man
inoffensive and kindly.
Nobody knew he had once been in prison
for an unsolved ******!
Evidence against him they tried to seek
but it was too weak!

For all those years he had kept his secret
the body was never found!
They knew he had committed the crime
but they had no proof!
He had put it in the large leather chair
nobody guessed it was there!

Playing on his mind sitting with the victim
who was not at rest.
And in the end hounded him to his death
as in the chair it still laid!
Before long the furniture had to be sold
the dark secret still untold.

To the furniture auction the chair was taken
there a young woman was thrilled.
A real brown leather chair for sixty pound
what a bargain she thought.
Always wanted one of these she shouted
of this none doubted.

So pleased when it arrived at her new flat
it did look out of place.
Keen to show her boyfriend the purchase
he was on his way.
As she smelt the leathers strong scent
it made her content.

Sitting in the plush chair she felt important
for a short while.
A sick feeling filled her retching throat
through blurry eyes!
There a man stood struggling to her feet
managing to retreat.

Blurting out what had happened to her friend
together they returned.
Nothing was there on the chair saw a tear
pulling it a body part fell out!
Soon the police arrived to the address
to clear up the mess!

The chair for evidence was soon removed
the case against the old man proved!

The Foureyed Poet.

Now when I think of Hayley it gives me
that vision of my future
nearly three years since we first met
never did we realize
how deep our love and commitment
with her I am content.

Together we have a truly special love
being friends for so long
but realizing our interests matched
drew us ever closer
always there by my side for support
my heart firmly caught.

Temporally apart we are getting engaged
a ring on your finger will place
on a warm sunny beach our love to seal
a dancer beautiful and kind
working so hard to achieve the dream
to be a ballerina supreme.

Our special song I Will Always Love you
and forever I will be true.

The Foureyed Poet.

How real a dream can be
when your mind has no limits
a spirit wandering free
with no human laws to bar you
paradise and exotic places
where you can find happiness
without fear of reprisal
pleasant dreams to nightmare
time and space ours at last
the physical body no resting
travel to the future or past
be in a blockbuster the big hero
or the villain even a pop star
limitless imagination to explore
what we see is for us alone
personal dreams only we own!

The Foureyed Poet.

Often unnoticed the teenagers gathered
aimlessly sitting or roaming.
With cans of drink and mobile phones
few problems as numbers rise!
Their lives dwindling on the benches
creating their own urban trenches.

Out of control in the attitudes to the world
brought up to have it on a plate!
The latest technology and clothes on tap
is the centre of their lives.
Until now as the economy is in a mess
but luxuries they still caress!

Adults today afraid to reprimand them
as the kids know their rights!
Everyone scared to help them in anyway
because of child protection laws!
And possibly of assault or verbal abuse
ways must be found for a truce.

The young are sitting in towns and cities
what are they thinking today?
Is it only boredom and agitation they feel
thinking their misunderstood?
Drawn into the seedy side of a civilisation
that has lost its humanization!


Gangs running amok with their own rules
thinking the police are fools!
Rumblings of unilateral dissatisfaction
a risk of a fatal reaction!

The Foureyed Poet.

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 mother sat in front of a computer
her daughters laptop.
Watching that happy teenagers face
and the voice full of hope.
Still unable to accept she was dead
memories filled her head.

Her wonderful child had hung herself
because of bullying at school.
Kept it from her mum she had no idea
what had been going on.
Her daughter had left a diary to explain
expressing the hurt and pain!

She said her boyfriend wanted intimacy
was not ready for this.
Left frustrated and could not understand
later sent him a naked photo.
Not thinking just trying to make atonement
her true feelings she sent.

Over night became the centre of verbal abuse
had her boyfriend caused it?
The photo for everybody to see had gone viral
and life became hell!
Called awful names and in degrading graffiti to
terrible words so untrue.

The end came finding out her best friend as well
had passed on the filth.
Nobody to trust could not tell mum the truth
arriving home so low.
Pressure now too much her life span ceased
from the torment released!

A mother sat compelled to seek out the truth
that drove her daughter to take her own life!

The Foureyed Poet.

The ancient town of Glastonbury stands proud
known for its famous Tor.
And leylines 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 Pagan and Christian mingles.
Once an island surrounded by marshland
an aura of magic is at hand.

Here there's a sense of timeless wonder!

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.

That Look in your eyes held the key
to the passion within your soul.
Sitting in the quaint atmospheric pub
in a historic city feeling right.
It was then the depth of love flowed
sincerely it really showed.

To journey to a different destination
away from our comfort zone.
Awakening and magnifying our love
in a place friendly and relaxed.
Doubt melted into the sparkling sphere
our move forward so clear.

Interlocking fingers tingling with energy
never thought love existed.
Safe and warm in our auras as we walked
together down a road of hope.
Believing as one we can face anything
the key would be challenging.

Can there be such a thing a deep passion
two souls intertwined in love?
Able to face any situation life may bring
a unit of pure love and devotion.
How I wished this could have been me
with that special one and the key!

That has never happened in my world!

The Foureyed Poet.

It is said that in each and every person
there is goodness within.
This to me I find is not easy to believe
as some are evil!
Not a hint of there being anything within
just filled with sin!

It is said that we show mercy to others
this I have often not seen.
Cruelty and torture always in the news
misery suffering everywhere!
Not that I can see any hint of mercy there
many humans don't care!

It is said we have love and understanding
willing to give to others.
All I see is selfish self centred humans
interested only in themselves.
Caring only for money no matter the cost
many good people lost!

It is said there are genuine people about
this I am sure is true.
Willing to give everything wanting to help
not out to use others.
Those with that goodness we must treasure
their worth we can't measure!

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 telescopic sight the ****** aimed
no emotion clouded his mind.
It was his job to protect the military force
no matter the cost.
From a high point watching and waiting
for him no hesitating!

The specially honed skills often called to assist
in the protection of the troops.
Never killing on impulse but by a strict code
a soldier loyal to his country.
Following orders if instructed would make the ****
his duty he would always fulfil.

Camouflaged hidden from view like a ghost
he haunted the enemy!
They were not safe from his telescopic sight
an angel of death!
Never seen or heard until the lethal bullet strike
confirming the **** on his radio mic!

These lonesome warriors in a war zone!

The Foureyed Poet

Can you not sense the undercurrent
an anger mutating over the nation.
That period before costs do excel
a deep dissatisfaction vented.
Massive job cuts told to restain
with warnings of future pain.

That inability to have any input
manipulated and being controlled.
Vote them in with their big promises
as politicians do what they want.
Despair as your finances disappear
truth a word you never hear.



This is a tale not only of one country
ever the widening divide.
The few continue reaping the rewards
the majority paying the cost.
The average guy is always bled dry
the wealthy staying that way being sly.

The undercurrent is beginning to vibrate
the population has had enough.
Those with plenty taking toomuch
from those with little to give.
The burden of debt has to be shared
or frustrations will be aired.
The Foureyed Poet.

In the sunlight the copse seemed fine
there had been tales.
Of ghostly sightings within its fencing
this was hard to believe.
Shadows cast as the sun shone down
leaves turning brown.

I had come on a field work investigation
requiring no equipment.
But observation of the sights and sounds
it was so natural in daylight.
Altering as darkness  took over at sunset
and that sense of threat

The copse began to feel cold and sinister
we had worked out a route.
With areas for each session to be held
many natural sounds filtered.
At least for several hours it was good
then before me a figure stood!


Now we felt confused nothing was the same
our planned route not there!
It became dense the dark solid and thick
wandering around in circles.
Ending back in the same spot we started
sad and downhearted!

Each thinking they saw shadows darting
as torches were aimed.
It was like the beams had hit a solid wall
trapped in another reality.
Spiritually our essence was draining away
we were here to stay!

Then within an instance it had disappeared
in the copse the air clear.
Shocked and unsure of what had happened
we just had to leave.
Back to normality of a starry clear night
shouting out with delight.

What each of us had experienced I have no idea
but in the copse an unnatural atmosphere!

The Foureyed Poet.

As the rain persisted the waters soon rose
never so much fallen before.
No records showed that much flowed
penetrating the deep caverns.
Disturbing what should be left in the dark
the outcome would be stark!

******* of the deepest levels went critical
awakening creatures from sleep.
Pressure pushing them into the underground rivers
guiding them ever upwards.
Wakening from their long forced hibernation
this deeply buried alien creation!

Fearsome! ****** into our world by the floods
able to swim to catch their prey!
The torrential rains causing such destruction
would be facing a new predator!
But for the rain would not have been freed
allowing the slaughter to proceed!

What would be discovered in the coming days
they were robotic beings!
Indestructible an advanced force that crashed
into deep caverns millenniums ago!
Their functions disengaged until the floods came
reactivated our destruction their aim!

Decimated by natures fury resistance was zero
those not drowned or starved.
Were obliterated by these mechanical marauders
their civilisation no longer existed.
They were the last of their immense soulless kind
our fates to the end entwined!

That day the rain and floods came!

The Foureyed Poet.

The burglars had been observing the bungalow
set in an out of the way place.
Smart expensive cars parked on the small drive
but they didn't observe well!
Certain this would be a profitable break in
their planning could begin.

The bungalow down a long narrow track
owned by a middle aged couple.
Few knew they were devil worshippers
this gang failed to find out!
Not digging deep into the victims past
this job would be the last!

In the community locals kept well away
from this evil bungalow!
The thieves were only focused on money
they had blinkered vision.
Confident they would not be disturbed
and certainly not heard!

The large dark van was parked out of view
hooded men approached.
It was after midnight now in the garden
quietly making an entrance.
And dealing with the expensive alarm
it was going like a charm.

Though it all changed when they heard a sound
noises came from below!
Ignoring it they proceeded to search and steal
robed figures came from nowhere.
Overwhelming them and taking each by force
dragged to the sounds source!

More robed figures chanted from every corner
dimly lit by black candles!
It was some sort of temple with a central altar
the first was put on top!
Gagged so they could not shout or scream
something bright did gleam!

The bungalow looked peaceful in the morning
nothing looked out of place.
Guests staying had already gone before light
the couple left for work.
The van was removed from its parking spot
smoke blew from a chimney ***!

Unless invited nobody visited the bungalow!

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.

Was that a knock on the bedroomj door
in fact two he was sure.
A chill ran through his body instantly
sitting up in bed instinctively.
Not a believer in spirits or any god.
thinking he was a silly old sod.

Staring at his own white painted door
he placed bare feet on floor.
Putting dressing gown on feeling cold
moving forward rather bold.
In the dim light did the handle turn
the stomach acid began to burn.

This was daft for the first time afraid
wishing in his bed he had stayed.
With a deep breath ****** open the door
in the dark a shadow he saw.
It vanished with no sound being heard
then noises in the kitchen stirred.

Turning every light on he could reach
there came a high pitched screech.
Yet still nothing was at all visible to him
now the mood was getting grim.
As he stood shocked in the well lit room
in the roof space came a boom.

At this point he could take no more
and ran out the front door.
The night was warm as he looked inside
a figure stared out he cried.
It was himself a dark shadow came behind
then he was gone phasing his mind.

Shouting out he awoke shaking in bed
staring at the door was he dead?
Soon it was obvious he was definately not
as up in his bed he shot.
On the painted door there was a knock
frozen in a state of shock.

What will happen next?

The Foureyed Poet.

How did I end up in this awful cell
caged in like an animal!
Diagnosed with a mental disorder
sectioned and put in here.
I had heard those voices in my head
they were from the dead!

Always knowing that I could be a medium
having messages relayed!
But doctors had always said I was ill
nobody listened to me.
This was a gift since I was a child
not suddenly becoming wild!

Dismissed this notion ignoring my plea's
psychiatrist's made the decision.
Drugged and humiliated in a hospital
here I lay on the bed!
How to show the diagnosis was false
get out of this therapy course!

Surely friends and comrades may put it right
prove it was a bad panic attack!
How could they mistake my gift for an illness
it took days to understand.
That what I had been telling them was true
the spirits guided me through!

In this world there is much we don't understand
have an open mind and outstretched hand!

The Foureyed Poet.

How can this be allowed for our people
worked all their lives.
Trying to save for their own retirement
and reap the rewards.
They labour hard and toil over the years
finding they can't as it nears!

Eroded away the money they thought was safe
wrongly by employers.
Government changes depleting their nest eggs
then having to work longer.
Pensions worth far less than they'd expected
many retirements affected!

Placed on the stock market by speculators
too much squandered.
As it's not their own money to fritter away
to get it will take longer.
Not able to retire on the original date
some may not last the wait!

Unaffected are the wealthy usual story
they never lose out.
Richer by the day without any idea
from their high perch.
Viewing the masses in total disarray
gloating it makes their day!

The Foureyed Poet.

Looking down at my young clear skin
full of energy and hope
innocent not seeing any fear around
a life time ahead of me
then no internet or mobile phones
robots and human clones!

Less complicated not the pressures
vinyl records and cassettes
shops closed Sundays families spoke
safe for children outside
being able to grow in natural stages
not endless exam pages!

Today I look down at my ageing skin
struggling to keep warm
nobody calls or ever bothers to visit
harder to pay rising bills
families split lacking close support
respect no longer taught!

The elderly are considered a burden
in this faltering society
where corruption affects everybody
greed no compassion
services shut for lack of funds its said
on egg shells we tread!

Life may have been hard but people cared
kindness and help freely shared!

The Foureyed Poet.

The new owner had heard the cottage was haunted
thinking it was simply old wives tales.
Ignoring the stories and how cheap the price
buying what she thought was a bargain.
Born in the area had decided to move back
thinking she was on track!

Passing the small cottage appeared so quaint
she had been drawn to it.
But had an odd name being called the cage
once it had been a prison!
Women accused of being witches were held
where torture and misery excelled!

Today many locals feel those spirits remain
souls of the young tormented1
Footsteps on the stairs shadows and shapes
haunt the tiny cottage.
After three years could not stay any more
uncertain of what she saw!

Since then endless tenants have come and gone
driven out by unexplained events!
Even when a paranormal group came to stay
feeling disturbed some were pushed.
Many images  caught on cameras and monitors
scratching from under the floors!

The cottage stands empty no answers yet found
ready for the next tenants to hound!

The Foureyed Poet.

They saw him coming inside the car dealers
in stock a car that had to go.
When in walked the likely looking punter
to buy a vehicle at any cost.
Innocently he was reeled in with a good bait
a dodgy car deal was his fate.

He had to be a fool believing all they said
though it was a smooth salesman!
The car certainly looked shiny and new
as he got behind the wheel.
Taking it out for their special test run
it really was so much fun.

Blinded with figures for a final package
he signed the paperwork.
More than he wanted to pay he did say
still he accepted the price!
The staff trying not to laugh out loud
watching him go in a crowd!

Cheering as the car went out of sight
celebrating through the night!

Another successful dodgy deal!

The Fouryed Poet.

How cold and dark the chapel looked that day
from the narrow dirt track.
The overgrown graves adding to the gloom
no longer did anyone pray.
In this neglected forgotton medieval place
here a friend disappeared without trace.

This brought me to view this strange dwelling
a despair came over me that second.
That gut wrenching feeling consumed my being
standing afraid I started to yelling.
A spontaneous reaction that I could not stop
around were fields filled with natures crop.

Always the sceptic yet I felt I was not alone
a light breeze began to blow.
Why had I ventured to this solitary spot
had I seen from inside a glow?
Compulsion made me open the rusty gate
what had happened to my mate

A heavy atmosphere it was hard to breath
was that footsteps I heard?
Stopping to glance around nobody was there
two horse riders came passed waving.
Turning back I was at the solid wooden door
on it marks as if made by a claw!

Foreboding  I wanted to get myself away
something stopped my urge for flight.
The answers I seeked must be inside I prayed
the summer light turned into night.
Dread within my soul was rising to it's height
and the outcome of my plight.

Pushing with hidden strength on the oak door
it swung open in the blackness I stared.
As my vision became more use to the dark
two red eyes looked back and glared.
A growling rasp echoed acoustically clear
something was gnawing far too near.

In my jacket pocket I had put a small torch
taking it out I turned on the beam.
There before me a wolf like creature stood
neither moved then it shot by.
Knowing this was the friend I'd been seeking
running out I saw the full moon peaking.

What I had seen was beyond my lifes beliefs
distant howls filled me with terror.
All I could do was just sit in the chapel
until the new dawn once more arose.
Never again did I see my life long friend
as now my life has drawn to an end.
    The Foureyed Poet.

Fields of green is surely a lovely scene
unspoilt of man's vision!
Which seems build on everything
plus adding pollution!
In between swaying trees plastic bags
lot's of cans and rotting rags!

Any idyllic view fly tipping is common
saving money the priority!
With a touch of pylons and mobile masts
and those wind turbines to.
Land spattered with concrete and steel
in despair helpless you kneel!

Completely drained at what's being done
over two centuries plundered.
That's detrimental to earth's natural order
continuing to **** the resources!
Certainly will take it's toll on civilisation
like the Mayans obliteration!

Has this happened before and now replaying?

The Foureyed Poet.

The desk sergeant sat at the front desk
in a small police station.
A slow day near the end of the shift
in a small rural town.
Close to a sprawling national park
outside just getting dark.

The young man walked up to the counter
holding a metallic strip.
He looked at the unidentified material
what have you got there son?
Asking as in front of him it was placed
wondering what he faced!

Found it while out walking on open ground
saw something fiery fall!
A bang a flash from the skies a craft fell
he said in a story like way.
The policeman puzzled he heard no sound
when was this thing found?

A few days ago on the other side of the moors
the lad reluctantly said.
Suspicious still the officer doubted the story
cautiously touching it.
There was a strong electrical charge up his arm
pulling back with alarm!

I do not believe your story now tell me the truth
where did this come from?
There was fear in the lads eyes as he owned up
admitting he stole it.
A week before from a friends garden shed
drawn by a loud hum in his head!


It was not a metal from this planet he was sure
knowing it was important.
How long it had been there he could not say
but was omitting a signal.
He was going to keep it but became petrified
with that noise humming inside!

The lad went quiet backed away turned and ran
hands on his ears!
Alone the policeman began to hear the sound
getting louder in his head!
Leaving his post intent on ringing the Inspector
a flash no building any more!

An enquiry followed no explanation for the blast
a mystery forever cast!

The young man nobody had seen or heard of him
missing to was the unidentified material!

The Foureyed Poet.

Snatched from the grasp of my slippery hand
as we were being evacuated
the hardship to reach the borders and safety
the pressure at last released
such noises of gun fire and the inevitable panic
pitiful humanity scared and sick!

Surging forward afraid they were being deserted
trampling upon each other
screams of many children and mothers separated
soldiers callous and cruel
degrading those forced from their homelands
all they owned in their hands!

My wife forced from my grasp in the wave
of such utter chaos and despair
snatched like a tree branch in a fast moving river
now not water but human misery
without hope stability or permanent destination
my search I start in desperation!

Searching for her betwixt the endless conflicts!

The Foureyed Poet.

That feeling of being trapped in his own home
unable to go far.
Alone and now afraid to pick up the telephone
why do so many ring?
I can't afford it he tried to mention
relying on his pension.

Yet the persistent aggressive and rude men
continued to phone him up.
Now in his seventies what could he do
nobody seemed to care.
Struggling to look after himself nowadays
on the elderly the villain preys!

So here he sat few visitors entered his home
almost forgotten by most.
Yet the calls continued to hound and pursue
they didn't listen to his words.
He had no money yet they continued to ring
treated as just a thing!

Yesterday he didn't answer the telephone
depressed he'd gone to the spiritual zone!

The Foureyed Poet.

The House is quiet as everyone sleeps
a normal night in a happy home.
On an estate that has seen no trouble
dogs bark cats screech foxes whine.
In the dark faint footsteps approach
up their path a figure does approach.
    Inside the central heating pipes creak
their pet labrador snores contently.
roused by movement of the door flap
then the pungent odour of petrol.
A lit piece of rag ignites the first flame
the arsonist runs away who was to blame.
    Acrid smoke quickly sets off the alarm
but not before it permeates upstairs.
Silently like a winter fog becoming dense
the children awake coughing and crying.
Mum choking opens her eyes and tries to rise
the roar of the fire a total surprise.
    Realising they were all in one bedroom
the kids had crept into bed once more.
Her husband groaned he was not easy to wake
luckily the fire brigade were near by.
Each one safely rescued as the fire was quelled
onto each other they tightly held.
    Seconds later their dog was brought out safe
but the house was totally gutted.
In the shadows somebody watched the scene
a burning grudge had not been fulfilled.
This was not finished it blended into the scene
shocked each knowing what could have been.
    The danger had not passed what was the truth
in reality this terrifying act happens too often.
Unable to resolve disagreements or pure hate
complexities of the mind create a disturbing state.
    THe Foureyed Poet.

Why are there governments today so blinkered
and so narrow minded?
Intent on power and their self preservation
ignoring those suffering!
Amongst the people they should safely rule
but often oppressive and cruel!

Millions of refuges forced to flee across borders
unwanted into other countries.
Causing more threats and possibility of escalation
Because they have their troubles to.
that endless cycle of never ending brutality
will remain a shocking reality!

A process to most of the humans that's unacceptable
when these wars spread!
With nuclear weapons that could be used
where nobody can win.
But through this misery to many do proceed
it's the psychopathic breed!

Our society still survives but with uncertainty
at what could happen.
World finances crashing more becoming poor
yet even more billionaires.
Anger and discontentment begins to fester and blow
what happens tomorrow we don't know!

If these government attitudes stay the same
when it happens none will take the blame!

But of course by then it will be too late!

The Foureyed Poet.

At first a few ornaments shook in the apartment
in that modern city block.
Complacent the warning ignored by the people
then a more violent shudder.
Running out fearing the buildings destruction
outside was total ruction!

Not from an earth quake they had first thought
but there had been a crash!
The unrecognisable craft fallen from clear skies
huge of an unknown design.
Fire and flames spread along a devastating track
there was no going back.

More appeared firing weapons into the fleeing crowd
masonry falling crushing many.
Helicopters gunships and fighter planes approached
being of no match to the foe.
On the ground weird creatures herded those unhurt
driving them precise and covert!

In those early days man had nothing ready to fight
to stop this alien massacre.
These battles were coordinated around the globe
an unprovoked desecration.
Secret protocols had been formulated by governments
on the possibilities of such events!

Satellite signals had been disrupted the attack a surprise
but the resistance had been planned.
Now to be implemented the fight back had begun
hidden basis and weapons brought onto line!
Powerful nations telling us aliens didn't really exist
yet were prepared for the time to resist!

The people don't really know what's going on!

The Foureyed Poet.

I once belonged to a paranormal group
just wanting to see a *****.
Sitting for hours in buildings in the dark
even in a country park.
At first it was fun and a fantastic team
but now a faded dream.

Plenty of investigations to get that thrill
but I am waiting still.
To see a single shadow or spectral entity
or was I too thick to see?
Being an ordinary guy the fun was gone
as technology came along.

From investigations as a tight working unit
technology became the remit.
And in the end I felt like a bystander
the equipment handler.
Unable to embrace the wonders of science
or it's clever appliance.

It must have been seven years I was involved
the problems never resolved.
Hoping for a positive and rewarding result
a little proof sought.

With regret that period in my life has passed
but a wider net is now cast.
My interest in the paranormal is very strong
and new adventures I long!

Thus my personal journey carries on!

The Foureyed Poet.

On the grid of the major formula one race
pressure has to be at it's best!
Noise at a decibel limit beyond sanity
each handled with extreme care.
The press and fans amplify the thrill
secretly many want to see a spill!

This race under the cover of darkness
even higher tension in the pits!
Forever ready for their teams to stop
mental tension in overload!
Who is top dog driver or the racing car
pride and prestige to be the star!


Incredible speeds around a tight track
you can only watch in awe.
Pit crews always ready to perform on cue
practised to a fine art.
Tyre changes and strategy the aim to win
on the grid let the race begin!

Egos sky high into battle the rallying Cry.

The Foureyed Poet

Like a discarded folly it stands abandoned
a building for the people.
Yet now it's been neglected by the council
there in that prominent position.
Time and weather has not been a friend
as many wish for it's end!

The council did not want the listed building
letting it become a wreck.
Repairing and upgrading others around
urgent repairs had to be done.
The owners who bought it for a pound
just couldn't be found!

Boarded up and classed as still unsafe
even with a grade two listing.
Yet it totters on the edge of its destruction
oppressive when you stare.
The building for years has not been used
watching it being abused!

Discarded this was the communities centre
that should be preserved.
Give that splendour back to this town's core
a focal point create a roar!

The Foureyed Poet.

Those in the queue never noticed the tall man
just didn't seem to fit in.
An odd pallor covering his hands and face
shuffling along the line!
Occasionally coughing in the small busy cafe
sprays the virus every way!

Each of the customers looked uncomfortable
at this man's demeanor.
Started moving away as he stuttered his words
asking for a latte coffee.
Picking up the take away cup visibly shaking
his skin then flaking!

Nobody wanted to get near to this sick being
a rising panic set in.
Began to violently heave unable to breathe
others began to feel unwell!
Suddenly shook and fell knocking over a chair
everybody could only stare!

One staff member called for an ambulance
but each stayed clear.
More began to show the same symptoms
knowing it was serious.
Some virulent type of contagious disease
a thought magnifying the unease!

Before the girl could put down the telephone
this man suddenly got up!
Snarling and foaming from his wretched mouth
ripping at the throat.
From a hysterical woman still in the queue
and began to chew!

The rest in turn collapsed and rose the same way
the emergency services came.
With scientist in special suites sealing the doors
they knew what was going on!
A virus from a facility leaked into the atmosphere
untested that was clear!

Had it been an accident or an act of sabotage
no antidote had been perfected!
The scientific experts taking the risks too far
an experiment out of hand!
Creating a new weapon for the military machine
the consequences not foreseen!

The virus continues to spread unabated through society!

The Foureyed Poet.

The children sat shivering alone in the house
cold and hungry in a squalid home
no Christmas tree or decorations were here
in their short lives never known
to have warm clothes and much food to eat
it would be a miraculous treat!

Dad came around to hurt and shout at mum
and was always very drunk
but they saw many uncles coming and going
when their mum was there
never gave any cuddle's nor showed kindness
they never knew happiness!

Alone once more on the eve of Christmas day
left to see it in with nothing
they only had each other no presents for them
rummaging in the ***** kitchen
such a pitiful sight listening to the happy voices
of neighbouring children with choices!

They held hands staring longingly out the window
hoping a kind person would come
to give them compassion some love and food
their mum did not seem to bother
to tired went to their ******* strew bedroom
a drunk mum would soon loom!

As children woke to see what Father Christmas
had brought for each of them
these three little ones dreaded yet another day
empty miserable and without care
at a time that is supposed to be filled with joy
on the birthday of a holy boy!

The Foureted Poet.

High on the desolate cliffs a woman cried
pleading for her man to return
captain of  a navy frigate two centuries ago
on hearing his ship had sunk
no survivors threw herself into the angry sea
in this life no more wanted to be!

From that day of sorrow felt by many families
the loss of husbands and sons
to the sudden storm the day before Christmas
it's said pleading voices are heard
on the winds at the very hour the ship was lost
with such a terrible cost!

Drawing many to have the sensation to jump
while walking on the cliffs
a soft sobbing cry as they to look out to sea
and come across the grave
where she lay forever for her lover waiting
for his return always aching

At that moment my mind was not focused
caught my hand in a car door!
Intense pain thought I'd broken a finger
decided to go to casualty.
It was quiet as I entered in a lot of pain
knowing I'd have to explain.

The lady on the desk said I'd have to wait
hopefully not for long.
Surprised it was only about half an hour
saw a triage nurse.
Took me to a small cubicle to be seen
through a curtained screen.

I laid down on a couch resting my eyes
a sound made me aware.
Very surprised a nurse stood besides me
she was very pleasant.
Her uniform seemed an unusual style
not speaking for awhile.

Then she spoke in a soft gentle way
that made the pain ease.
Said I'b be fine touched my hand
such kindness no demand.
Went to thank her but she'd gone
surprised but felt strong!

Then another nurse came quickly in
to say I needed an x-ray.
Before the doctor was able to see me
could I follow her.
I said the other nurse had been kind
walking closely behind.

She turned telling me she was on her own
giving a description.
A blank expression she didn't work there
the uniform not used for years!
Very perplexed I said no more to her
but who was my nice comforter?

Was it pain making me hallucinate
or had it been a ghost?

The Foureyed Poet.

Dark clouds continue to thicken above
as man hovers on the brink of war.
No more sparodic and endless tribal conflicts
simmering just under the surface.
Corruption and super power *******
inevitable will draw in every nation.

Over sixty years since the last world war
though never a time of total peace.
Power oil dictatorships and simple pure hate
engulfs the news twenty four seven.
From clubs and axes to weapons of destruction
millions killed and boundless reconstruction.

There are countries with vast deadly arsenals
who would take the risk to attack.
Other countries they felt were aggessors
making uncertainty of fututre actions.
Always feeling the aggrieved and ready to fight
a powder keg it would take little to ignite.


The plot could well thicken very soon I sense
tension  constantly on high alert.
These leaders not shy to use their lethat potency
with the underlying resentment boiling.
The consequences to us not in their equation.
if they wanted a solution an invasion.

A delicate balance hangs over civilisation
as countries develop the nuclear card.
Thinking this is the way to boost their ranking
with others who have these lethal devises.
Making the future a more precarious place
possibly annihilation a more likely case!

Will the building pressure erupt soon or not?
  
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 young man was sleeping rough on the street
why he was not honestly sure.
A talented musician he mused he'd been called
just wanting to roam free!
Music was his love not the riches and fame
enjoyment was the aim.

He had to roam a free spirit that was him
crowds overwhelming not his style!
Though friends wanted to start a band
not sure better on his own.
Writing what he felt within his being
his own future he was foreseeing.

Pressure applied the group was formed
the others realised his talent.
But hard to conform being with others
the one that made it special.
The central pin he always wanted more
yes the bands core!

This musician had these unique qualities
to find the defining sound.
But not the ability to take the pressure
needed for the long term.
At this point it was too early to detect
he had all their respect.

These truly talented greats are often loners
giving us music never to forget.
They rise way above the rest of the pack
pressures driving them to drugs!
Here regrettably the pattern did not alter
for this genius life did falter!

Success came after several years real toil
for this singer it was too much!
Drugs did take over as he lost the battle
many fellow artists tried to help!
Coordinating projects to give him a hope
like a carrot on the rope.

The singer gave one more huge performance
before going to his isolated home.
Wanting a chance to rest was his only reason
after three days the band broke in.
Where it was found he had committed suicide
a hand written note by his side!

The music the singer had created will never fade
only in his thirties but master of his trade!

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.

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.

There is just so much anybody can take
treated with no respect.
How could you be that utterly rude
what was said I did accept.
I'm really an ordinary sort of chap
whose in a bit of a flap.

Met you as a friend totally happy at that
didn't see your true colours.
Thought I had money you were nice
asking for small amounts.
Which like a fool I willingly gave
becoming your money slave!

It was a one way relationship it seemed
there was no intent!
Paying for meals and drinks every day
until you wanted twenty grand!
Then the reason for wanting to know me
as last I clearly could see.

The days I admit are more lonely again
your reasons no need to explain!

I heard you'd moved onto the next victim!

The Foureyed Poet.

On a night shift the underground worker
had to walk the tunnels.
Along the empty track in the pitch black
a torch his only guide.
And a radio to report if anything wrong
cautiously moving along.

It was just before one am he started to walk
down the ramp onto the line.
The only sounds his footsteps on the track
too nervous to look back.
Halfway along his route saw a flickering light
no work was planned that night!

Approaching saw a workman crouching down
busy on some unknown task.
Calling out to enquire what he was doing
the man stood and spoke.
He said hello called in for an urgent repair
made sense why he was there.

An hour later on his return he had gone
radioed to say all was well.
Mentioned the worker he saw in the tunnel
as on reflection thought it odd.
The radio operator told him others had to
as they had walked through!

You had seen the ghost the voice said with glee
possibly was hit by a train!
Some sixty years ago while doing some repairs
this came as a complete surprise.
Never experienced anything like this before
no longer a sceptic that's for sure!

The Foureyed Poet.