In our short lives how often do we wish it away
waiting for hours to get out of our daily work.
Or for each weekend to come to go out to play
some do not have or want jobs so just shirk.
Still getting ready to get out for some fun
others lounging about soaking up the sun.

No matter what pace we head to our demize
ruled by the never ending clock we just wait.
When one is young we wait to get to adult size
wishing years to pass to get out the school gate.
Onto university or staring those first jobs
hanging about causing trouble destined to be slobs.

There is no end to wishing away our allotted space
those marriage vows hoping it would last and work.
To the dreaded divorces too many now face
that can go on for years and hidden problems lurk.
Letting minutes fly by then wonder where it has gone
for some lifes far too short and others too long.
    The Foureyed Poet.

From the top of the steep sloping green hills
they sat relaxed on horseback to marvel
in awe at the natural beauty of unspoilt land
uncorrupted by the destruction of progress
taking away the virginity of the landscape
where creatures safely interacted unharmed
by callous hands in pursuit of immoral gain
the countryside balance they did not retain!

With no tall grotesque buildings to sully the view
nor chimneys from factories that regularly
spewed more deadly toxins to choke our lungs
then the air above clear from human impregnation
from more suspected elements of depopulation
weather harsh but the seasons were well defined
there before pollution and technology encased
our lives and the nightmare future to face!

#TheFoureyedPoet.

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.

I had never heard of devil black dogs before
until one night when I was twelve.
Living in a house we'd just moved into
my dad was away in the forces.
So my mum then was a little stressed
but with patience she was blessed.

Being the youngest with one older sister
it was odd now in my own room.
About ten thirty on a dark and cold night
scratching noises outside my room!
It got much louder so I had the urge to look
approaching the door handle shook!

Determined to be brave I grabbed the handle
forcing myself into the dim hallway.
At first I only heard a panting like sound
then a growl made me focus.
Two fiery red eyes a black dog stood there
it was so real to you I swear!

I had expected to be bitten or even clawed.
laying sobbing on the freezing floor!
My sister was first to come and find out
what the commotion was about.
Helping me up I glanced nothing was there
it certainly gave me a scare.

From then on my interest was aroused
what I had I seen it was so vivid/
A horrendous introduction to the unknown
now I still dread being alone.

Ther Foureyed Poet.

The couple on the street with nothing to their name
a tough place to find yourself.
In the cold house no heating could be used here
or consumed very often!
Parents without jobs two kids and benefits tight
another Christmas near what plight!

Centres opened at Christmas for the down and outs
this derogatory term we still use.
For most it was not a choice of their making
as the recession bites hard!
More desperate and seeking government support
increasing numbers in poverty!

At the other end of that ever longer sliding scale
those with fortunate families.
Where moneys plentiful and their futures bright
in warm well stocked homes.
No need to scrimp and save or turn off the heat
expensive toys and houses so neat!

Cost means nothing filling those many cars
having no idea of those without.
Two cultures at this festive season once more
the rich giving to charities.
To make them fell good in their arrogant way
they'll have a happy Christmas day!

I wonder how the others will fare on this magical day?

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.

There through the frosted glass front door
a figure stood then a tap!
You are not expecting anybody to call
cautiously moving to answer.
Then on opening you find nobody there
not a soul with a word to share!

Very shaken at this strange experience
you come inside quickly!
Unsure of what to make of the event
it had never happened before!
Not before being left completely alone
hearing a disturbing groan!

She knew the house in the forest had a tale
of a ****** but nothing else!
Not believing the stories told of this place
as an ornament fell off the shelf.
Maybe there was something within here
feeling a presence near!

Telling herself not to be silly just imagination
spirits just don't exist!
As a cold chill sped right through her body
standing there defiantly.
Sensing a physical embrace and exciting kiss
that really felt like bliss!

Now she was scared a voice cried out on her phone
"please help" it said then clicked off!
By now she'd had enough grabbing her coat and left
looking back saw a man!
Staring out of the lounge window so very near
with such an evil leer!

Getting into her pick up truck praying it would start
from that house she did part!
Vowing never to return fearing herself and sanity
there were dark secrets inside!
Had not been a believer in spirits of the dead
now having a questioning dread!

Was it real or was she actually mad!

The Foureyed Poet.

Deep in thought life's adventure has begun
finding when to be serious.
And when you should be having some fun
bombarded by modern living.
Feeling the pressure laid out in front of you
who is genuine and true.

Forming relationships with great expectations
but Tess at your tender age.
Surely the challenge of living can be thrilling
learning how to be let down.
Your horizons are widened now you own a car
time to follow that guiding star.

Explore and refresh each and every new sunrise
focus and enjoy the wondrous world.
Most decisions are defined by our endeavours
highs and lows part of the course.
Be determined in your destiny always smile
travel through life mile by mile.

The Foureyed Poet.

He could not get the blood off himself
no matter how he tried!
It was him or that monstrous creature
not alive any more!
Just couldn't get used to all the blood
worse mixed with mud!

How he'd become a killer of these things
always been a quiet lad.
That was until he met that fantastic girl
pity then he didn't know!
She wasn't of the **** sapiens breed
spawned of another seed!

Beginning to age yet she looked the same
never knew they co-existed.
Drawn into their feud against their vile kind
had to learn how to fight.
Or by knowing her would be dispatched
head from body detached!

This race had been here long before man
form a distant galaxy.
They could only be killed by decapitation
at first not believing it.
Until the girl he loved had her first ****
that was in his brain still.

Now he had to wearily keep on the move
with each **** their powers grew.
But a moment would come when either
he would certainly die!
Either murdered or he'd simply grow old
to his lover this he told.

That day arrived sooner than he'd feared
but the way he cherished.
The two of them attacked while walking
his instincts were fast.
Always a sword at hand he protected
a fatal blow was deflected!

Striking the enemy before they hit the girl
taking the full blow!
In her arms he thought this was the end
but a strange sensation.
Hot fire surging inside the blood exploded
his mortality eroded!


Never before had this mutation occurred
he was now a hybrid!
Together on equal terms they were joined
knowing blood would flow!
Violence and tracking their reasons to exist
the quest they would persist!

Beware they wouldn't let anything stop the ****!

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.

The last year has certainly flown by us all
good for some bad for many more.
Those with money still having a ball
all the rest who know what's install.
Taxes ascend told to tighten the belt
prices going up the pinch is felt.


Charity should begin at our own front door
the government increases overseas aid.
Road duty train prices increasing for sure
make them pay its the big tax raid.
Vultures who thrive when times are hard
not for them the overspent credit card.

Nor are they afraid of a big incoming bill
looking down upon us as poor fools.
As those without get more depreesed and ill
increasing their wealth we are the mules.
Communities full of much violence and hate
politicians take little action just debate.

The usual happy Christmas if you can afford it
but I like to think of those in need.
Brightness in dark places a simple candle lit
to see everybody is able to feed.
True meaning when kindness can be shown
a period none scared of the unknown.

That short span in time when we do realise
each soul is from the same mold
When humans can express kindness be wise
and not everybody is evil and cold
From me I wish the world and people goodwill
and compassion is within us still.

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.

The actor was so thrilled to be offered a part
uneasy that two suited men
told  him he had to sign a binding contract
no disclosure or go to prison
realised there was no choice had to agree
but offered him a huge fee!

Pressurised signed was told to wait for a call
they would not disclose details
life put on hold regretting that offer of work
could not contact agency
what had he committed to it blew his mind
wishing time he could rewind!

Several days later his house phone rang
a voice gave a short message
outside ten minutes apprehension grew
picked up his bag and waited
at precisely the time stated a van arrived
from then on freedom was deprived!

A side door shot open abruptly told to enter
once inside the vehicle sped away
within not alone three other men squatted
nobody spoke on that journey
what seemed like hours being thrown about
he was filled with fear and doubt!

At last it stopped they were greeted by a man
smartly dressed and well spoken
apologised  for covert action and no information
found themselves in a large hangar
on one side changing rooms and catering truck
it dawned on him here they were stuck!

It was cold as they were shown to a huge room
chairs were placed facing a screen
sitting the smart man went to the front lingered
until they were all quietly seated
explained he was the director of this project
with those present was about to connect!

From behind them armed guards now entered
please do not be alarmed he said
they are here for our protection and security
you have been chosen to participate
in a conspiracy that must never be exposed
the screen lit up the secret disclosed!

Images of a barren landscape was dispalyed
this is the set built-in this hangar
here the moon surface has been recreated
because we are going to hoax
for the want of a better word the moon landing
with astronauts on surface standing!

This is the first meeting of our brave flight crew!

Just another conspiracy theory?

#TheFoureyedPoet.

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.

High in the sky two lights flickered on and off
drawing my attention.
Clear and dark not a sound could I hear
fixed on watching.
This display to fast for planes yet controlled
what was about to unfold?

The silence of the night near the stone circle
in a small Wiltshire village.
Driving away that sense of being followed
just wouldn't leave me.
A few miles on the car came to a gentle rest
on a hillside crest!


Two lights coming directly at my vision
the cars electrics failed!
It was as if this was an aliens flight path
would I be abducted?
Prepared for the worst shutting my eyes
then looking clear skies!

No sign of any lights except for the stars
greeted my starring gaze.
The car started and lit up scared I went home
arriving calmly got out!
Heard countless stories of what many had seen
belief where doubt had been!

There is more going on than we are told!

The Foureyed Poet.

Locked within his own mind he just laid
after the heart attack
that came suddenly without warning
in a comatose condition
to those around him motionless in bed
nothing direct could be said!

Had always hoped to retain his dignity
not gazed upon with pity
only lingering on for his families sake
after the years of hard work
certainly not his choice to visibly decay
laying there on display!

Not for him to be unable to communicate
prolonging their deep grief
this loving father wanted peaceful release
remembered as an active man
if only he could smile and talk as they sat
instead of being helpless and flat!

He waited for his merciful release!

The Foureyed Poet.

A simple pleasure that I enjoy
to sit and look about me.
With fervent beliefs to employ
just to be here and free.

Doing nothing but observe
absorbing with my senses.
Enjoying each turn and curve
as every moment commences.

No use of physical energy
let your mind roam.
Nobody's a friend or an enemy
viewing even from home.

All around there's love and hate
violence and peace.
Mingled in lifes big debate
as instability's on the increase.

Violence infiltrates our souls
nobody's immune from dying.
As life takes many roles
on each hope I'm not prying.

Trying to be in a neutral position
watching earthly evolution.
A bystander in natures mission
for which we have no solution!

A grain of sand in a desert
all I can be is alert!

The Foureyed Poet.

A kind word or compassionate smile
means so much to a very lonely soul.
Who tries to be genuine and care
always willing to help and listen awhile.
Still trying to assess his life and role
yet always has a positive air.

Those who find it better to give than receive
can feel a deep sense of pride.
Not a saint or a martyr its true
only doing what they alone truly believe.
In thier minds knowing they've nothing to hide
determined to live each day through.

To love with your heart
a sparkle in the way you act.
Towards all that lives on earth
Appreciating each day from the start.
Trying to be kind and good is a fact
that we aim for from the moment of birth.

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.

He sat muttering to himself his cup empty
the coffee drained he longed more
others avoided him thinking he had issues
in fact he was lonely and depressed
no money for another drink life was aimless
with living could not careless!

It had been forever since he had lost touch
with his three young children
a career and future ended in the recession
stress became unbearable
the wife he loved left him he could not cope
for Ted there was no hope!

He was just one in a whirlpool of many!

He disappeared and was never found!

The Foureyed Poet.

Twenty now no longer a child she brooded
was she ready to share?
Her life with a man she'd known six months
to move in together.
Possibly not until Christmas or the New year
in her mind not yet clear.

By that time realising she'd be twenty one
still was it right?
Wanted to leave home got on with mum
not the same with dad!
Always been distant and a little afraid
the atmosphere a little frayed.

He'd been in the army when she was small
maybe this was why!
Was the youngest of four other siblings
and the last at home.
Her parents said she didn't have to leave
there was always a reprieve.

That lack of tenderness from her father
magnified her insecurity.
But had to give the relationship a chance
feeling she was in love.
If that moment was allowed to pass her by
she'd always wonder if or why!

The Foureyed Poet.

It had been a very long twenty four hours
so glad to be homeward bound.
Finding himself heading into rain showers
eager to make up ground.
Not sure why he'd taken the longer route
his mobile buzzed being on mute.

That distraction took his eyes off the road
as there was a sickening thud!
Looking forward nothing visibly showed
pulling onto a patch of mud.
Regretting this error he got out with a splat
as onto his back he fell flat!

Wet and cold he managed to get on his feet
slid onto the wet road!
Pacing up and down but a pointless beat
seeing nothing as he strode.
Back to his vehicle checking for damage
sensing his rising rage!

Why his emotions were like this was weird
he sat back in his car.
Hoping not to be stuck as the rain cleared
skidding on his way with a jar.
Steering was not very responsive at first
the trip home seemed cursed!

Oblivious to an alien creature gripping tight
glad to be back at last.
Heading for his door on his leg felt a bite
embedded deep his fate cast!
Inside eggs secreted now he was a host
the alien gone like s ghost!

Entering his home collapsed with a blackout
found the next day by a friend.
Rushed to the hospital his prognosis in doubt
for him this was the end!
But would these creatures be detected inside
as they investigated the man died!

With an unexplained death the body was isolated
doctors were very worried!
When the marks were found opinions were invited
scientist to the laboratory hurried.
Noticing movements within the body was he alive
realising the body was a hive!

Luckily the room was a completely sealed unit
in disbelief they monitored!
An extraordinary event what were they within it
this unknown spewing hoard!
The thing searched finding its next victim a cat
who had no chance on the doormat!

Unknown to the scientist the horror had just begun!

The Foureyed Poet.

He had been a vocal critic of the government
trying to expose their lies
that the people accepted as the gospel truth
knew he was being watched
certain it was not paranoia nowhere to hide
his privacy was denied!

His video channel censored and taken down
found it hard to be heard
began to feel his life maybe in grave danger
still determined to speak out
as agents began rapidly closing in on him
knew getting real facts out slim!

Began to shut himself away kept in contact
with others in his circle
who became known as the hard resistance
telling what was really going on
with little success as the public in a bubble
unable to see they were in trouble!"

Most wrapped up in themselves unable to see
a bigger picture of a society
those divided and trapped by social injustice
wars destruction of nations
where the innocent were continually dying
as upon us all they were spying!

He was a sincere man who loved his family
but he was found with his wife
daughter and pet dog slaughtered at home
the official line he was the killer
murdering them then committing suicide
but his friends knew they had lied!

All his files and documents were missing
yet the conspiracy was accepted
for most of the population it was shocking
a tragedy but what happened
main news outlets clearly said it was true
so no official enquiry would ensue!

Is this another conspiracy theory or a fact?

#TheFoureyedPoet.

You turned away from me in our bed
the tension so strong.
I knew it was nothing that I had said
our relationship felt wrong.
Smelling that perfume on your skin
doubt hit me within!

Always late coming home from your job
deep in my heart I knew.
I laid there trying so hard not to sob
intuition came through.
Nothing for it but to confront you
admitting the affair was true!

After twenty two years so hard to take
we stayed friends for our kids sake!

The Foureyed Poet

By the ruins of her home the child dazed
high winds had blown it down
terrified lost the behaviour crazed
nothing could save the town
from the force of natures mighty power
survivors could only cower!

Nature takes no sides without mercy strikes
that mankind cannot control
as the instruments alarm showing the spikes
millions pay the toll
as leaders battle to dominate in their wealth
affecting stability and health!

The pitiful sight of children and adults pleading
for basic necessities of living
increases as the climate begins to destabilize
yet sharing for many unforgiving
even images of devastation and the dead
on humanities path will not tread!

Those secure in their bubble of comfort and joy
should remember nature can easily destroy!

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.

How often do we glance at the skies
either it's cloudy.
Or a bright clear pastel blue image
sometimes odd things to.
Within our vision this is what we see
are we alien free?

Unseen objects flying we just can't detect
only by infra red light.
Not by the naked eye are they visible
where they're from unknown!
One more of life's mysteries to brood
on this world to intrude!

As we **** each other and nations divided
are the skies busy?
Not with our rising air traffic but space craft
from another distant star.
Maybe from a different dimension or time lines
we don't recognise the signs!

On the internet there are many films shown
of craft flying around.
That our limited visual spectrum blocks out
observing you and me!
Is this phenomena real or simply a camera trick
surely the experts aren't thick?

Is there nobody there and it's imagination
none of the sightings real!
This I feel is certainly not the whole truth
something is very much near!
Gazing upon us as we upon ourselves spy
yet the question remains why?

The Foureyed Poet.

A throbbing head wondering where you are
with slow thoughts you remember.
It's New years day everything looks bleak
not such a happy new year!
How cold and damp where you have laid
lifting your head nerves frayed!

Glancing about you're in the morning air
several others beside you.
An awful smell of ***** and stale *****
makes your stomach churn!
Rising with pain to your feet on wobbly legs
bottle there with a few dregs.

Swigging that down making you feel worse
focusing his tired blurry eyes.
Trying to rouse those prostrate on the ground
recognising some others no idea.
A girl looked familiar then an awful flash back
he'd proposed not the right tack!

Once a school friend but he didn't really like her
waking them they stood up.
Now noticing it was a fly tip ******* everywhere
not far from the last port of call!
Each still under the influence of all the drink
guiding them to the bus link.

Hoping the girl didn't remember much of last night
as the frost began to bite!
Welcome he thought to another bland year
just wanting another beer!

The Foureyed Poet.

Another year has come to a violent end
yet again the people do not disappoint
death destruction chaos misery abound
nothing different to those times before
as always nature the master of mankind
with other malicious forces is entwined!

Another unknown year is about to start
here we go again into the twilight zone
full of uncertainty where nothing is clear
so may I just add Happy New Year!

#TheFoureyedPoet.

Forever shown on the media as if to be proud
man's appalling history.
Wars have always dominated human culture
through countless strife.
Carnage constantly depicted on our screens
where you see real fiends!

As if these are trophies proud to be shown
maybe to view our mistakes.
Film makers creating war films more graphic
documentaries digitally enhanced.
Any footage clarified raising major reactions
trying to analyse the actions.

Maybe we need reminding of our blunders
often the young don't want to know.
Brought up with never ending war zones
becoming blase to the horrors!
Many don't even read see or hear the news
interesting in personal views!

Violence is part of our hereditary code
natural mode physical combat.
Rather than talk it through to rationalize
so they rage ever on.
And the atrocities will I can see continue
guiltless killed by the few!

The Foureyed Poet.

The young female driver headed on her journey
the satellite navigation switched on.
Which led to a very desolate rambling road
passing through a thick wood.
Happily singing to the music on the car's radio
not going very slow.

The car she said seemed to take over steering
as a woman materialised ahead!
Approaching very fast it swerved into a tree
she could only watch.
As what felt like an eternity before the collision
no time for revision!

The air bag was deployed and it came to a stop
a moment of noise and pain.
A depth of silence never before encountered
steam poured from the radiator.
Realising the danger unhurt stumbled to a rock
being in a state of shock!

From where she sat a figure appeared again
a woman dressed in red.
Arms out with a pleading gaze then faded
frightened just wanted to run.
Found herself on the road weary confused
her body aching and bruised!

Collapsing waking up in a small hospital ward
questioned there by the police.
Though not taking her story seriously
saying there was no evidence!
After extensive searches nothing was found
of this haunted ground.

Taking months to get better for her own search
she to never located the spot.
It must have been real her precious car had gone
haunted by that ghostly face.
Was there a split in the fabric of time and space
lucky not to be lost without a trace!

The Foureyed Poet

Arrived at the station late on a winter's night
from the platform saw the train.
As it disappeared into the railway tunnel
on the down line to the city.
No sound except for a rising bitter wind
to be on it my hopes were pinned.

Not prone to be scared but uncomfortable
every noise put me on alert!
It was an unmanned station and I was alone
with no cell phone signal.
Unable to tell a soul that I'd missed the train
as it started to pour with rain.

The external lamps began to swing with force
creating many darting shadows!
I could hear footsteps on the empty platform
then realised I was pacing.
As that dread of the unknown within grew
stuck until the next train was due!

At this point I was sure somebody was nearby
an outline of a figure was clear!
But it was nothing just a swinging door
to the waiting room I went in.
Inside closing it shut light here was poor
paper blown in on the floor.

I started talking aloud then I saw in the corner
a small child and I guessed her mother!
Who I hadn't noticed when I entered the room
taken by surprise I said ' Hello'.
The lady smiled and spoke quietly back
yet emotion her voice did lack!

They seemed nice and we chatted for a while
their clothes seemed an odd style!
Eventually fell sleep when I woke they'd gone
it was daylight outside.
The clock on the wall read six and was very cold
onto the platform I strolled.

I consciously glanced for the two I'd met in the night
but they were not in sight!
At that moment my thoughts were on leaving
as the early train came in.
Nobody else got on board that I could relay
only later did I replay!


Shuddering at the implication they weren't real
ghosts the image didn't appeal!
Looking as solid as me having a conversation
thinking this once I'd left.
Though now I shall never really find out
always having a nagging doubt!

What did I experience that cold winter's night?

The Foureyed Poet.

Is there a rhythm of life surging in the air
a will of consciousness within?
That makes us want to keep surviving
disasters and endless despair!
An untouchable strength we can't succumb
to despicable acts that make us numb!

Mental tragedies the loss of our everything
seem to be often overcome!
Deeds of violence natures cruel hand dealt
that rhythm of life keeps flowing.
As if the eternal miracle allows another chance
of renewal and hope of romance.

Nothing's simple for the ever increasing masses
yet the power of self preservation.
Has seen them through centuries of pure torment
linked in the fact we are of one!
Every soul part of the immense rhythm of destiny
guided by an invisible entity!

What will befall one will eventually befall us all !

The Foureyed Poet.

The second I broke into that house
hearing the cries of despair.
That vicious dog snarling at my heels
as the rest of my police unit.
Handcuffed the vicious man shouting abuse
pleading for mercy and a truce.

His poor wife just sitting and crying
fear etched upon her damaged face.
Comforted by a female colleague so calm
as a stillness began to fill the place.
It was not easy being focused on this case
she passed me at a slow pace.

The years of abuse were clear to see
two children cowered so scared.
Whimpering in their filthy bedroom
that sense of sadness was strong.
How glad I was to leave that awful scene
a home where love should have been.

I heard the wife had dropped the charges
so common in violent cases.
No doubt the problems would be repeated
and trauma started over again.
Both children removed for their own welfare
to those who would give real care.

Cries of despair can be heard out there
where so many suffer unaware.

The Foureyed Poet.

Warfare in the twenty first century
brought on a bigger threat.
Weapons to obliterate mankind
many stand on the line.
Antagonists looking at each other
once called them brother!

Tension was high no more rifles
or small cannons to fire.
But huge deadly arsenals ready
without a second thought.
To wipe whole civilisations away
for ******* to display!

Never ending conflicts few remember
those times of peace.
Refugees constantly torn from homes
and the threat of violence.
Disrupting chances to bloom and grow
natural balances cannot flow!

Often many opposing forces are on alert
each thinking they are right.
Glaring at radar screens from a distance
as the ground is mined.
Lives forever lost as time drifts onward
where nobody wants accord!

Will man ever learn before the bomb drops?

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.

That defining moment at the final flag
in the motor sports.
Or the last long blow of the whistle
at the end of a ball game.
The preparation the long journey made
their focus displayed.

Training to be an athlete on the track
like in every sport.
Dedication and sacrifice to win a prize
amateurs aim for medals.
Professionals focused on the money gain
increased wealth to maintain!

Countless fans pursue their heroes on this quest
even though they struggle.
Passion is high in sport each split second counts
or every goal the aim.
To reach that peak the best in your sport
perfection is sought.

There are the few greats classed as the elite
who seldom know defeat.
We watch with desire and that revered awe
then are honoured evermore!

The Foureyed Poet.

I still ponder that day in nineteen eighty one
was that my time to die?
Yes so vivid in my mind how good it felt
laying in that hospital bed!
Feeling at peace without pain or remorse
as nature took its course!

After an operation about one week before
there left to bleed inside!
Then you never saw the consultant again
but for a female junior doctor.
Who observed I was getting very weak
worried the reason she would seek!

Back to the theatres urgently dispatched
where indeed inside I bled!
Just in time the flow was safely stopped
and four units of blood transfused!
Since that date nothing has gone right
was that the day to see the light?

Maybe it was meant for me to be here
with a purpose still to be made clear!

The Foureyed Poet.

He was sure it was there only had two drinks
yes it was really dark.
He'd been scared it was certainly unexpected
that snake like thing!
It was there in the village he was born
his own opinion torn.

Worrying he had started seeing objects
was unstable on his feet.
So pleased to get to his own front gate
stopping there was a sound.
Certain something had followed behind
even his path felt confined.

Reaching his door step turned in the porch
sweat running down his neck.
There was a weird noise that got closer
yet he could see nothing!
Waiting to cry out his cords were frozen
the victim had been chosen!

The snake like thing rose high and menacing
engulfed the man'd taught body!
Nothing was left but a pool of body fluid
the alien killer moved on!
In search of more flesh to sustain its being
this thing few were seeing!

By the post office a man thought he saw a snake
must have been a mistake!

The Foureyed Poet.

The new summer was here at long last
it was hot and dry.
No more thought of those winter days
that first cycle ride.
Into the shrinking countryside alone
nice to be on your own.

Finding a quiet lane inhaling the warm air
remembering your youth.
The population sparse villages small
you stop at a sign.
Leading to a footpath rising to a hill
a challenge to fulfil.


A faint humming boosts your senses
the moment to relax.
Easing the stresses of daily existence
and channelled thoughts.
A day of unknown futures everywhere
no time to prepare.

From that high point a panoramic spectacle
feeling like a god.
Looking down upon his flock from on high
lost and floundering.
With so much discord in his own creation
near to obliteration!

Disturbed by the thoughts of man's disintegration
making your way back.
Along the track from tranquillity into uncertainty
and dangers of living.
That short break giving you hope of a solution
to our total pollution!

Love,Respect,Care and Hope is this within us?

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.

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.

Why did I ever think that you cared
as upon your face I stared.
Saying you never had any feelings
just a bloke that's all.
Never had any intentions to call
but I had seen her out.
At that time I just didn't know
that was the truth.
Deep inside though I really knew
what a full I'd become.
Becoming your personal clown
my life you brought down!

The Foureyed Poet.

Only just put you into my passed memory
hard to get over your love.
Was not expecting it to end by telephone
after so very long.
Seeing you again rekindled that feeling
your new man left me reeling!

I know it was your decision to move on
recalling it was not mine.
Heartbroken when I lost your essence
not easy facing you again.
It was a good chance we would one day
this time not to play.

Looking into your blue eyes was not easy
making me feel queasy.
My love certainly never faded for you
this I guessed you knew.
To find some one that I liked so much
none could replace your touch!

We spoke I accepted the relationship was over
from then on I was a lonely rover.

Goodbye my only true love.

The Foureyed Poet.

Trapped in a city under siege no way to escape
barrage of heavy gun fire!
That never seems to stop as it gets closer
explosions shaking your being.
As death is all around at every second
your existence to could end!

Dust dirt and blood wherever you turn
cries of pain stench of death.
Hell on earth without a glimmer of hope
to even comfort you.
Government troops your people's enemy
encroaching on your territory!

Each shattering explosions brings the horror closer
citizens caught in the barrage!
As the resistance fighters struggle to retaliate
with their inferior weapons!
In the end overwhelming odds tell the story
they don't speak of glory!

Conflicts blight increasing nations before our eyes
rising the crescendo of their cries!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Young lives are being slaughtered by knives
law and order seems to have no power
to contain the gangs creating such strife
brutality grows not by weeks but the hour
these crimes getting rapidly out of control
with no logic to the mounting toll!

The gangs culture has been allowed to expand
cities towns and villages none are immune
in the present climate they are in command
too often on the roadside flowers are strewn
lawlessness spreads as people are oppressed
helpless we stand as a society transgressed!

A bleak future violence escalates and discipline
is now lost allowing worrying complacency in
surely it extends far deeper into our culture
where nobody can see that hovering vulture!

Now nobody is safe from the threat of violence
as corruption destroys human tolerance!


#TheFoureyedPoet.