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

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

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

Into the light I go with ease.

Now I wait For you.

The Foureyed Poet.

How in seconds our lives can change
remembering when we met what fun
it was incredible just being with you
how your love simply filled my heart
thought your feelings were the same
that view changed as hate came!

Felt a sharp pain in my back that night
with disbelief  in me you ****** a knife
your emotions had gone into reverse
sweet so kind thinking we were close
soul mates sharing our lives forever
now its my death we share together!

#TheFoureyedPoet.

Even as a young child the narrow lane
was a place of fear.
I'm never at ease when I come back
and travel the route.
Nothing has changed that I can tell
a path to a dark spell.

My parents farm is situated at the end
called hangman's noose!
Which made me curious why this name
had always been used.
Often I'd seen a lone woman walking
but faded as I tried talking!

My friends had seen her to and reluctant
to tread that path again.
None of the locals ventured along there
the superstition ran deep.
Strangers often took the wrong turning
tyre rubber soon burning!

Though not all got safely back on track
some swerved and crashed!
Into an old tree halfway along the lane
none of them survived.
Stories written of malevolent forces
told to me by reliable sources!

Never in my memory did I ever feel alone
going down the narrow lane.
Oppressive and barren voices in the breeze
my parents still live there.
They knew more of its past than they'd say
our ancestors under the lane lay!

My father said for sinful deeds they'd done
this would be your curse to son!

What these were the answers I've yet to discover!

The Foureyed Poet.

She never looked back on leaving the house
ten years older her hair grey
wore the same clothes as the day she arrived
eyes now cold and empty
also carrying the same battered brown suitcase
mascara ran down her tearful face!

Early before the light strolled into the distance
later neighbours reported hearing
raised voices in the evening and during the night
but nothing to indicate the scene
stating nothing unusual they were an odd pair
but for each other appeared to care!


No witness came forward who saw her leave
walking away on that fateful day
no idea who she was nor what happened here
only the cries of his mother
discovering the body of her beloved perfect son
knife in his chest the foul deed done!

A detailed search and forensic examination followed
but there was never proof
of her identity no DNA fluid samples or fingerprints
were ever matched to a human
it seemed as though the woman had never existed
to this day the gossip persisted!

Who was she and where from still unanswered!

#TheFoureyedpoet.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

The youths are still out there somewhere!

The Foureyed Poet.

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

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

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

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

The Foureyed Poet.

Into the back of any thoughts it simply had gone
those penetrating words Nuclear War!
Also spoken a nuclear winter that followed
not since nineteen ninety two.
Had they been uttered with such meaning
with it a real threat leaning!

Footage of Hiroshima seemed distant images
but many countries have the weapon!
A real peril is no longer mere speculation
each with their known instability!
Without morality to hold their actions back
they'd have no qualms but attack!

Tensions are running ever closer to danger levels
as the irresponsibility explodes!
Even a limited nuclear war could easily escalate
into billions of human deaths!
Obliterated from a once green fertile surface!
to an ash covered uninhabitable place!

Maybe the few could survive along with the cockroaches!

Is this man's inevitable fate?

The Foureyed Poet.

Always had the obsession he was being followed
even before the digital generation
that familiar figure whom he had seen before
not certain this was his imagination
a click on the phone as if somebody listening
an uncomfortable sensation inside
now that object in his own home had moved
thought must be getting confused!

Atheist in his beliefs so no angel was by his side
yet felt a tingle of uncertainty
as if eyes were peering at him twenty four seven
over a couple of years  it was constant
technology had begun to advance as a brisk rate
intrusion of privacy a big debate!

Became bedeviled that some agency was listening
checking his data did not feel free
being a conspiracy theorist was often outspoken
many colleagues had been shut down
just told the truth of what he saw in this society
but this simply increased anxiety!

Filled with doubt about everything around him
sat one night staring very attentively
at his laptop screen when an image appeared
several days later he was discovered
by his worried girlfriend absolutely stone dead
face hideously distorted and crushed head!

What really had been watching and ended his life?
Never an investigation to ease pain or strife!

#TheFoureyedPoet.

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

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


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

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

The Foureyed Poet.

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.

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

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

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

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

I can only hope your answer will be found.

The Foureyed Poet.

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.

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

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

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

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

Onward the battle raged where he stood
deafened by the pounding guns!
Around him comrades lives were taken
every loss the emotions it stuns.
Trapped amongst the running blood
in his eyes the tears flood!

Whichever way he rotated death is close
in the mind trepidation.
Each explosion magnified had to get away
comrades buried in the soil!
More still and silent besides him here
how he missed those so dear.

Day after day facing the same pointless hell
forgotten soldiers just statistics.
Who would become another long lost story
on official forms a few ticks.
Honoured with posthumous medals and grief
lives blown away like the autumn leaf.

Wanting to escape from purgatory to heaven
compelled to find the route.
Voices telling him to seek his lost sanity
his rifle never more to shoot.
Knowing he'd be a deserter to the crown
forcibly being brought down!

Dragged before a court martial for treason
no mercy for a shell shocked soldier!
Mentally scared by the brutality of war
a young man not getting older.
Not killed by the barrage of enemy gunfire
but firing squad he'd expire!

Classed then as a deserters not victims of the great war
never seeing their families any more!

The Foureyed Poet

Time has become part of our destinies
after meeting three years ago
from the first moment we saw each other
we both were truly blessed
our eyes locked and that gaze has stayed
nothing for you would I trade.

Like a dream we married in magical Hawaii
now my husband wants to come
to be with me in England to make our home
kind and gentle who cares for me
to have my true love always here by my side
tears of joy I could not hide.

Antonio you do make my life mean so much
soon I shall be back in your arms
my heart skips a beat waiting for that moment
remembering our special song
so one more night I can't live without you
our bond is strong and true.

Together forever that moment draws near!

The Foureyed Poet.

Out there waiting like greedy scavengers
numerous heartless thieves!
Poised ready to scam us for our money
cloning credit and debit cards.
Until it's too late you have no idea
your money will disappear!

Saturated the plastic cards fill our lives
it's not safe to hand them over.
To many outlets as copies are easily made
and the heartache begins.
As others build up their debt in your name
and it can be hard to reclaim!

An army of crooks who find ways to take
mainly from those with little.
An under class who work hard to steal
and care not of their crimes!
Taking with violence and a cold pleasure
victims belongings their treasure!

The numbers are growing of merciless frauds
increasing their ill gotten hoards!

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Love and jealousy unceasing like your perfume!

The Foureyed poet.

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.

Above our heads and below our feet
electricity surges through.
Power lines linked like huge arteries
giving life to a rising public.
Increasing demand for easy existence
could end with persistence.

Man never stable nor servile creatures
always wanting dominate.
All other species living on our planet
like gods in his approach.
Not respecting earth his only base
as more dangers we face!

Continues conflicts and power struggles
divided between rich and poor.
Tribal and sectarian  violence and greed
as the power starts to falter.
Resources are dwindling as the need rises
a future filled with bad surprises!

The Foureyed Poet.

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

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

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

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

The Foureyed Poet.

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.

From a quiet tiny stream into a raging torrent
as high volumes of rain falls with intent.
Onto the grasslands forming artificial lakes
lives property and businesses high stakes.
Swollen rivers burst their banks flooding homes
as the surge of water indiscriminately roams.

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

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

The Foureyed Poet.

When you don't even admit to yourself
your really lonely.
Telling others you're an independent soul
inside wanting friendship.
Outwardly trying to show confidence
this is your defence.

Every day becomes a tedious repetition
as you can get isolated.
Meeting few people who actually speak
as the cycle goes on.
Love and any contact is only in your mind
a relationship you'll never find!

There are those who've never been married
or had close friendships.
Who have never known that wanted feeling
which you do miss.
Somebody at home company when out
that's what your life was about.

Too many hours to self analyse yourself
you observe others around.
But in the end you've become invisible
blending into the surroundings.
Hoping somebody will hear you calling
before you start falling!

It's good to be independent and stand on your own
but it can be hard being alone!

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 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.

Alone simmering rejected by the system
made to live without supervision.
Changes made to save the money
suppoesed to be on medical guidance.
Though not taken for over a week
somebody's life will soon be bleak.

Roaming the streets bored and confused
lack of medication beginning to tell.
In his pocket a knife he liked so much
no medical staff had made a visit.
Agitation growing he walked in a daze
a girl talking turned him out of phase.

Nobody knew what was about to happen
this young man charged knife in hand.
Slashuing and thrusting people scattered
disbelief screams and cries of pain.
Seconds passed the man overpowered
on the pavement the policeman towered.

Amazing seriously hurt but alive the victims
rushed urgently to the local hospital.
The man hancuffed taken into custody
even now he was fighting so petrified
scared and lacking his medical control
the failing system had taken its toll.

How many more are there with no support
and another avoidable tragedy to report?

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.

Revenge for her parents death the drive
that became her passion.
The story began when she was a child
witnessing their killing!
Every detail taken in by her big eyes
to get the killer the prize.

Seventeen years painfully trickled by her
becoming an assassin.
As the hatred coursed through her veins
revenge drove her on.
Though wanting to seek the love she craved
retribution on her soul engraved!

She had found a man making it complicated
her fine tuning distorted.
This new friend had found her mobile phone
saving her photo image.
Trying to find out about this mystery female
allowing others to find her trail.

Gangs had lost foot soldiers to her expertise
who acted like a shadow.
For the first time had to be far more aware
her parents murderer alerted.
The last pages of her diary soon completed
could this evil be defeated?

Knowing he would catch up with her soon
she prepared to strike first.
Entering his mansion in a covert manner
dispatching silently his crew.
Until he was there without support alone
recognising his arrogant tone.

From a hidden point confronted head on
glaring with a cold stare.
Going to fire the gun held in sweaty hand
diving found a hidden weapon.
A bullet went right through her shoulder
he was quick though much older.

Her shot caught him in a main thigh artery
shattering the femur to.
There before her the man she hated so much
was now at her mercy.
She had prayed for years to see him die
openly then did she cry!

One more deep breath she shot him in the head
cruelly on his face a smile as he lay dead!

Knowing she would be a target vanished from sight
revenge in the end did not feel right!

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 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.

Cruelty and savagery explodes upon our streets
violence multiplies in every part of society
nobodies safe in the urban jungle or their homes
promises to cure the soaring carnage has failed
deaths go on as the young rule many no go areas
where is the law and order to protect the people
why are the taxpayers pockets endlessly drained
there is still too much ground left blood stained!

Emergency services being attacked on their call outs
hospital staff assaulted in Britain's A and E units
trying to help all the thousands of drunken revellers
as those giving support are being put under pressure
decision makers seem to live in a different dimension
as their statistics down play just what is happening
out in the harsh concrete and tarmac jungle no control
if gangs and criminals power grows evil will take its toll!

Law and order has been dissipated society breaks down
as with official bureaucracy we all shall drown!

This could apply to anywhere on our overburdened earth!

TheFoureyedPoet.

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.

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.

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

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

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

Another sad and tragic slaying of a family!

The Foureyed Poet.

As she sat in his favourite worn chair
the expectant mother became aware.
Of a soft touch on her pale cheeck
reading a letter sent that week.
Crying their baby born without a dad
what was the point of being mad.
    Lonely now she felt an unseen force
on her aching shoulders easing remorse.
Standing up aware of an uninvited guest
though not afraid she had been blessed.
Since her husband had died he was near
this gave her strength there was no fear.
    How their baby kicked keen to be born
her senses even now frayed and torn.
Happy they had created their first child
though in her mind her spirit still wild.
Part of her almost died answering the door bell
two soldiers said they had bad news to tell.
    Andy had been shot while on duty abroad
any help and support was assured.
The early weeks just one long depressing blur
then everything changed for her.
His after shave and essence wafted in the air
and now Tess had become aware.
    Dad would be there at the baby's birth
even though not alive on the earth.
    Was this just a desperate wifes vivid imagination
or actually a new form of creation?
    The Foureyed Poet.

The desert was flat you could never tell
that below where you stood
was a military bunker and missile silo
from a time years passed
built here on this lonely barron latitude
that had a bad attitude!

An everlasting reminder of mans ingenuity
negative approach to peace
of times that have gone but do still exist
creation of terror and destruction
yet for many this factor has disappeared
to die is no longer feared!

Thinking foolishly that all conflicts will end
is only in dreamers minds
always there simmering the spark of war
lay in wait in human culture
where somebody is ready to light the flame
so conflicts in history doth remain!

The Silo is but one symbol of the ****** past
forever on humans the shadow cast!

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can never argue with a bullet!

The Foureyed Poet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is really going on up there?

The Foureyed Poet.

From the edge of our atmosphere it flew
nobody knew the craft existed.
Invisible to radar screens out of sight
the spy plane didn't exist.
At the period in history myth or fact
then proof they lacked!

A plane flying at seventy thousand feet
thought an impossible task.
Designed to spy undetected at  this height
against their powerful old foe.
But the intrigue when they started to fly
a surge of UFO's reported in the sky!

Was this what pilots were reportedly seeing
and civilians on the ground.
Not alien but man made flying saucer craft
but maybe not all were!
Could it have been this secret spy plane
or something we can't explain!

Strange lights that change shape and colour
blending into one then dividing.
Triangular shapes seen all over the planet
often over groom lake!
So are they secret and developing planes
created on barren salt plains!

Is there a need for mankind to be very afraid
if we knew the secrets being made?

The Foureyed Poet.

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

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

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

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

One day they would be together again!


The Foureyed Poet.

Swindon used to be a working railway town
the works then dominated our lives.
Covering so much land under the bridges
most of the jobs were within.
In those days the ****** was our alarm clock
bringing them to work in a flock.

Three ****** blasts echoed over the wide area
we all relied on that sound.
Part of our lives to us a unique local feature
on the third ****** you were late.
In the works most had a relation past on present
at home time avoiding the bikes an event.

The ****** was silenced when it was closed down
sites and sounds changed there after.
New Swindon was built specifically for the railway
greatly missed since it went away.


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.

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

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.

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

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

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

The Foureyed Poet.