They call him the King of the Cats,
It’s easy to see why,
He roams with graceful dignity,
And has that look of focus in his eye.

They call him the King of Cats,
With his mane soft and long,
With his pride of lionesses,
He knows just exactly where he belongs.

They call him the King of Cats,
The plains are his homeland,
He fears the human intrusion,
Standing in the sun; looking proud and grand.

I bet you didn't know that i have to molt,
I shed my shell as i grow,
This is when I'm most vulnerable,
I have to slip, slide and hide beneath the coral bed.

When i sense an attack i stop my gentle stroll,
I curl and uncurl my abdomen,
I swim backwards,
Keeping one beady, devilish eye upon the threatening team.

I have blue blood, a fact i bet you didn't know,
But still you drag me from my home,
And i feel the heat of the boiling water,
I crack, crumble and croak - on to some ***** plate I'm thrown.

(Song title from The Beatles’ catalogue, by Lennon/McCartney)

Miles I have struggled,
Trudged down the manacled streets,
A lifetime spent in misery,
Surrounded in sin and tragedy,
The long and winding road I walk,
Is diseased with pain and hurt,
I bury my heart and evil soul,
To save them from death and wicked sights,
Scarred by rumours; afeard of the light.

Shut my eyes,
Prepare for the long sleep,
An endless stream of silence,
A land where I can see with focus,
My vision open wide,
I step outside my body,
And understand what happens inside.

With my eyes closed,
I can recall your touch,
I enjoy the memory,
The way we held on,
Held on so tenderly,
I enjoy the memory,
The times our lips met,
And your tongue melted me,
I enjoy the memory,
Recall the passion,
That look within your eyes,
I enjoy the memory...
...
...
...
...The memory is all I have.

Like the sun it glows,
A presence in our lives,
Watch as it grows and grows.

Lighting the darkness,
A blemish in the sky,
An artists' perfect mess.

Claims insanity,
And watches as we sleep,
Honest morality.

It brings lunacy,
A passionate madness,
Such eccentricity.

Shadowed; the wolf howls,
We tremble in our fear,
Fall to our knees and bow.

I look the same as other flies but my name is my flaw,
Blue Bottles are a pest but not perceived as much more,
The common House Fly is named with human charm,
I’m called Mosquito and mean you no harm,
Most of us eat nectar and us males eat nothing more,
It’s the ladies of certain sects who take the blood from your pores,
So please don’t be scared of me as you lay dishabille in the sun,
I’m not going to bite you; I am the nice one.

I’m reddish-brown and gorgeous,
My long arms can hold and swing,
I’m the largest arboreal animal,
And my loud call I often sing,
It’s no surprise I’m “person of the forest”,
With my fingers and my thumbs,
I have a natural rhythm,
My body is full of the beating of the drum.

Like a flame his plume is wild,
Yet perfectly formed,
A regal blue and crown of gold,
A wondrous cavern of treasure in every eye-shaped fold,
The hint of black, the splash of purple, the green that’s taken hold,
A delicate vision,
It’s easy to see he’s breathtakingly bold.

Crack the ice,
I want to fish,
I want to swim in the cold waters,
Watch me swim with my friends,
Side by side we toddle to the ledge,
Shining white with the snow,
And tarnishing the landscape with black,
We tarnish purity,
Yet remain pure and free,
A lesson to learn,
Of black together with white,
A sensational diversity.

(Song title from “Sunset Boulevard” by Lloyd Webber, Black, Hampton and Powers)

I wonder how it feels to have the perfect year,
Full of love and comfort, laughter and cheer,
Without crying and without shame,
No anguish and no pain,
Safe from the thunder and the rain.

I wonder how it feels to have the perfect year,
Full of joy and smiles, sunshine and cheer,
Without anger and without hurt,
No coldness and no dirt,
Safe from storms: no need to revert.

“Vermin!!!”
“Rat of the sky!!!”
“Flea-ridden disease carrier!!!!”

I hear there vicious taunts,
I’m not pretty enough to flaunt my plume,
But I’m smart,
I am central to London; we are the works of art,
They try to move us on,
For some time now we’ve been gone,
But don’t forget that out of sight,
We pigeons take our magic flight.

“Vermin!!!”
“Rat of the sky!!!”
“Flea-ridden disease carrier!!!”

I miss the playground as it used to be,
Laughter, fun and frivolity,
Sliding down and spinning 'round,
Chasing the breeze and winning the race,
Hope was written on my face.

I see the playground as i wish it were,
Children playing and running free,
Climbing the trees and smiling,
Collecting the conkers and the dreams,
It's not how it once did seem.

I'm in the playground with my adult eyes,
Dealers, knives and the addiction,
Crashing down and going mad,
With legs of lead and vision so blurred,
If i had screamed...no one heard.

I'm in the playground with my fear and hate,
Shooting up and going under,
Paying but the money's gone,
Needing to slide when i'm feeling high,
I have kissed my past goodbye.

I dwell in the Arctic Ocean,
And cope with cold, ice and snow,
I'm a large predator,
And create fear wherever i go,
I'm Ursus Maritimus - the Maritime Bear,
I hunt for fish beneath the ice,
I know they are there,
I'm gorgeous and cuddly,
But you best beware,
If i ever catch you,
You'll be fixed by my steely glare.

She wanders around trying to smile,
A brave face,
The picture of denial,
Tries to hide the hurt that grows,
Scared of rejection,
The youth and innocence that no one knows.

Nicola Bolt was working at staying strong,
A road often travelled,
Her journey is too long,
Scared of speaking out, of causing a revolt,
Afraid of crumbling below,
The poor lost soul of Nicola Bolt.

Sadness in the eyes of a preacher,
As his church grows emptier by the day,
Religion is not as strong,
But for the preacher the days are long,
Night times are lonely,
Hymns go unheard,
Tired of the gospel failing the word,
Upon the crucifix he lays his truth,
Behind the bible of fables and tales,
Upon the blue sadness he drowns and bails.

Big and strong,
Bigger than most snakes,
But his bark is far worse than his bite,
No poison does he make,
But slide and glide across the land,
Africa and Asia and on desert terrain,
The skin he sheds and leaves his mark of change,
He slithers in sunshine, in snow and in rain.

Basking in the heat of the African sun,
His acute hearing can hear the grass growing,
Keratin horn, thick skinned and weighs a ton,
Eating the foliage that Nature is sowing.

The pine tree scent fills the room,
And the candle smoke softens the mood,
As the turkey is cooking you can taste by its smell,
Christmas is here; it’s easy to tell,
The potatoes are roasting and smelling so nice,
The mulled wine is full of flavour and spice,
The smell of the cold and thunder and rain,
And the smell of snow as it covers the plain,
The scent of the warmth from family and friends,
It’s nice to enjoy Christmas again.

Soft blanket hiding the ground,
Covering the cars and vans,
Disguising mans wrongs,
Hideous and heinous.

Gentle flakes are falling down,
Heaven sent droplets of snow,
A blackbird exposed,
Camouflage gone; open.

Coloured petals white as doves,
Calm surrender to nature,
A stillness of life,
Pray golden silence; hush.

The season for her message,
Don't disturb serenity,
All may just exist,
Life's' cycle; brief moments.

Against the snow smudging the landscape,
Grey thick fur and spots of black,
Stocky build and small, round ears to keep it warm,
Against the backdrop of a delicate snow storm,
Quiet creature, no ability to roar,
The sweetest of faces I ever saw.

Made from snow,
He stands so tall,
With eyes of coal,
In weather so cruel,
He still smiles his smile,
Wearing his scarf and hat,
Before the sun arrives to melt him away,
Until he comes back next Christmas Day.

On a dark Christmas night,
In a house with a fire,
A little girl sleeps in her bed,
And wonders what might transpire,
In the distance she hears,
The sound of the bells coming near,
She stirs and turns for the window,
To make it easier to hear,
“It’s Father Christmas” she shouts, “He’s on his way”
“I can see him approach on his magnificent sleigh.”

Why are they scared of me?
I’m not a Tarantula,
I’m not a Black Widow,
I’m an ordinary spider,
Spinning my web of silk,
Making a home for myself on your front porch,
Stretching my web from beam to rose petal,
Each day I have to rebuild,
You brush it away.

I am named wrong,
They don’t care,
Those humans who decide everything,
Do I look like a Stag with Antlers?
NO…my mandibles are strong and proud,
I’m a grand beetle,
Royal and fearsome (in appearance),
But don’t worry I won’t hurt you.

I look up to the night sky,
And am greeted by such a sight,
A celestial vision,
Basking in sacred light.

A smattering of unplanned dots,
They sparkle and shimmer,
Standing still in the same spot,
With a flowing, graceful glimmer.

I look up to the darkness,
And am swallowed by the abyss,
Magic vision of starlight,
Never felt quite like this.

A box on our sideboard,
Full of tiny plants,
Several thousand twigs,
And a chameleon of bugs,
The stick insect is hiding,
Shy of the leering glare,
But when you look so closely,
You’ll see he has a friend.

No flowers,
No trees,
No birdsong,
No summer breeze,
No blue sky,
No light,
No daytime,
No welcome night.

A life without the sun,
No shelter from shadows,
No inner strength,
No energy to run.

Grow flowers,
Grow trees,
Bring birdsong,
Bring summer breeze,
Bright blue sky,
Bright light,
Come daytime,
Come welcome night.

A life blessed with the sun,
With shelter in shadows,
With inner strength,
With energy to run.

I'm white and pure,
i'm gorgeous,
I'm in love with my reflection,
I'll never part from it,
You all look at me and smile,
I'm beautiful, elegant and strong,
I'm the one you've heard about,
The truly English Swan.

She kissed my hand,
And lay her lips against mine,
My spine shivered,
And her eyes sang divine,
She drove me to happiness,
A floating feeling of glee,
A devastating passion,
A newfound joy from within the heart of me.

(Song title from “The Rocky Horror Show” by Richard O’Brien)

That moment after making love,
Where time stands still,
All is calm and bliss and glee fill the air,
Flood the air like gold pouring down a shelf,
Magical,
That moment of peace trapped in a time warp,
That moment after making love,
That moment in her arms.

From high above us Mother Nature angrily breathes,
Humankind has done her wrong,
We built buildings and knocked down trees,
Destroyed the harmonies of her precious birdsong,
So to show us whose boss and to make a stand,
She raises the cars and destroys our fences,
And ravages the illegitimate upon her land,
We look on astounded as she batters our defences,
The wind howls wildly and the rain is forced down,
The sky above grows dark and the moon hides in fear,
Instinct returns to humans; they race to shelter in the town,
They can’t choose to survive; the choice is with Mother Nature’s selection spear.

A great, imposing figure,
Casting a shadow over the land,
As it reaches to the heavenly sky,
And its rumbles are felt like the rhythm of a band,
Its angry colours dancing like petals in the wind,
Deep orange and flaming red,
Black fire valleys giving predatory heat,
People stand in awe or tremble in their beds,
Devastation is caused and the sky is clouded,
As the rivers of fear flow nearer, so near,
See the birds fly high and away from the ominous glow,
As Mother Nature apologises and sheds a silent tear.

A dead corpse of a zebra,
The lions move away,
They feast seventh in line like Libra,
Circling and swooping and keeping a watchful eye.

Round and round,
Down and down.

Their wings slicing through the air,
Eyes focused on the meal,
They rip and tear until none is there,
Blood falling from their beaks as their black feathers quake.

Rainbow spider web,
Silken twinkle on the view,
Natures perfect sight.

A giant of the ocean,
But gentle as can be,
I'm the one they talk about,
The one they rarely see.

I swim and eat,
Eat and swim all day,
I blow out all the water,
And avoid the light of day.

How many boats come out to sea,
To catch a glimpse of me,
I hear the engines and the noise,
I hide beneath the ocean bed with such rapid urgency.

We’re underground,
Millions of us beneath your every step,
Eating the mud and grime,
Keep the ground fertilised through time,
We fear the gushing waters that fall from way above,
They pour into our tunnels and make rivers of our homes,
Up we come to the surface and inhale the fresh, clean air,
And watch out for the sparrows lurking somewhere out there.

Thinking about kissing you,
Holding you in arms of love,
But instead I'll spend the night alone,
Forced purity of a dove.

Thinking about touching you,
My fingers finding their way,
But instead I'll warm myself with sheets,
Without your presence today.

A thin veil of ice covers the face of the girl with diamonds in her eyes,
An irrepressible sparkle that, like wind blown dreams, never dies,
Yet every now and then on a warm, endangered summers day,
A blossom would drop down from a branch and, like time, trickle her way,
If she was lucky, and that day she was, the blossom would fall to the palm of her hand.

I met her once as, down Carnaby Street, i walked,
She tripped to my arms, i saved her, we talked,
We strolled the gardens of Regency Park,
I sat her beside me on a bench, we spoke until dark,
I placed her hand in mine and through the thin veil of ice she whispered 'I understand'.

Together.

This train has reached its station,
And the passengers on board with the weight of the world on their shoulders,
Leave the train through the open doors,
Before the doors are closed and the dreamer looses his way; breathe,
And never let the dream end.

The clock chimes at twelve for the lunchtime rush,
And the stars come out to try to grab a bite to eat before the moon runs amuck,
Amongst the diamond twinkle is a shimmer,
Golden and lost in flight is the dream that I have tried to reach,
And now I have it, I won't give up the possession.

It's not as if I achieved, then rested,
I struggled,
I strived,
I continued on my path across the desert dunes and muddy lane,
To reach the planet of wonderland,
My struggle is not in vain,
For it's a continuation,
An everlasting ambition,
An everlasting condition,
An everlasting declaration that this dream is not over.

The plane had met its runway,
And the Pilot's Crew in flight are careful and uninspired,
I feel like a voyager on his first mission to mars; a child when he says his first thought,
In awe of the magic that is just beyond my grasp,
I haven't given up after the applause died down; this dream is not over.

Unlike a captain who needs to die aboard his fading vessel,
The ovation is not enough,
A tear or a smile, a kiss or a touch on the mind will scar with bliss my heart,
To share a gift - a dream that has not yet died,
I will run to the edge of eternity to become the light.

“This prison”, said the stars,
“Is a cloak of darkness against which we sparkle,
We are the spectacle,
The show of night,
Our ringmaster is the moon,
We are eclipsed by his power.”

(Song title from Michael Jacksons’ catalogue, by Michael Jackson, Rodney Jenkins, Fred Jerkins III and LaShawn Daniels)

I’m feeling threatened,
By my actions and my mind,
It’s a scary thought,
Not knowing what you’ll find.

(Song title from Blind Willie McTell’s catalogue, by McTell)

A soldier proudly marches,
Off to war he goes,
Into a terrible struggle,
Facing agonising blows,
His head oozing on the ground,
His eyes water running out,
His friends are dead around him,
No sanctuary or aid about,
He gives up the fight but in his dreams,
He imagines the women left behind,
His mother, his lover, his daughter,
Three women blues he finds,
He prays for them with his last breath,
And attains peace with his unnecessary death.

Bombs can fall,
Skies can tumble,
Earth can shatter,
Mountains tumble,
I won't care as long as you are here,
Here this year,
This fresh, crisp New Year,
Be here this year,
With me my dear,
Stay near,
Never fear,
My path you'll steer,
Unafraid in the headlights like a deer,
Never shed a tear,
Throughout this year,
Be with me,
Near with me,
My dear with me,
This New Year with me.

(Thursday's child has far to go.)

Look at the road ahead,
I have never travelled it,
I'm scared of making my bed,
Before i've even laid in it,
But i have a destiny that i must reach,
That's the truth that Thursday breeds.