I saw the story of creation unfold before my face,
voices of masses screaming vows before the lord.

like the last meal, this is how the end began.

With words like stones exchanged between families in a divorce court.

Bravery
I thought I was brave
with the scars to prove it.
My legacy -
   broken bones,  split knuckles,
   black eyes and loose teeth.
   Adulation and respect.
I fought  both man and isms
Never backed down.
But a black man, driving
an Uber taught me the truth of
true bravery.
Harassed, insulted, threatened by
a low-life passenger,
  white racism covered in a cheap suit and tie,
he refused to take the bait.
He denied himself the pleasure of
      justified violence.
He told me his story -
and anger for him, righteous indignation,
crashed over me in furious waves.
I admonished him for not
confronting that mans ignorance
   with a closed and determined fist.
Never back down, right?
Gently, he spoke the truth of
   black men in America.
His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.
You, he said, are innocent until proven guilty.
Protected by a system that
oppresses me.
I am guilty - period - and would be lucky
to be arrested, not killed,
  in a confrontation with that bigot.
So he did nothing, let the swine in a tie
off at his destination,
and drove on - leaving that pig to
wallow in his hate.
His bravery earned him nothing.
No adulation. No respect. No recognition.
Nothing except another day of life.
Another day with his family.
In contrast - my lifetime of bravery.
A pale reflection, when set beside his truth.
He was brave, not I.
My self-styled bravery, forever
tainted
by my privilege.

Layered Cake
I’ve known many unsavory characters from my home city of Manchester
There’s the ex-demolition guy who took a great dislike to me
Did he have visions of blowing me up instead of my old car?
He had a trainee apprentice in the wings and had connections

I knew several football hooligans who fought for what?
For England, their home team, themselves, for violence?
Each told me a story of Rah-Rah-Rah Here We Go Lads!
One fought riot cops in Poland and was jailed in a sanatorium
He somehow escaped and was banned from Poland for life
The other was a City fan and battled his opponents in Greece
He was 45 and still loved a good tear up on match days

Drug dealers prominently featured in the city and surrounding towns
One dark night in my home town I saw an ex-dealer shot dead  
I heard then saw the BMW getaway car zoom off
Oddly I thought I heard two gunshots after it had gone
The ex-dealer’s wife asked me to help and I tried to
But there was nothing I could do but call the medics

Chavs are the worst in my town and others
Council House And Violent and ruling the tough estates
With their violence, crime, dealing and other acts
Not going to school or college but sleeping all day
And drinking and smoking **** all night with their underage gals
But when do they have time to do their crimes?

There are the plastic gangsters who think they’re it
Maybe with their mates they can burst a paper bag
Or intimidate innocent law abiding citizens who are meek

Further afield I met a gangster in Liverpool who was alrite
He liked a right tear up and had a job to appear legit
But his real work was in various things like drugs, guns and cash
He offered me a job as a courier because my car was old and gray
I said no for its easy in and never ever out

The English racists were a breed apart who hated all skins
I got on with one who liked metal but we clashed on views
He loathed foreigners and wanted them all out
And insisted that white men stick to white women

Most scary of all I met a killer on the run in Newcastle
We were on the ship disco by the river having fun
This guy had a real flirty wife called Carmen
I danced with her and later talked to her husband
He schitzed out and went mad but not for chatting with his gal
I asked what’s wrong and he admitted to killing a man
And said he didn’t know me from Adam so be quiet!
He was a Londoner and I said you did it for your own reasons
His wife consoled him when he had flashbacks

Ex-servicemen gave me a few problems over the years
I was drinking in my local pub when a para and a marine argued
First with one another and then with me over who was best
They hated the air force and me wearing an Air Force badge
Maybe they needed a war to get their heads blown off?

There were many fighters who lived to fight and cause trouble
Some had a go at me I tried to avoid their skills but heard their stories
Some were nutters but others quite pally and fine lads
There were brawlers, boxers, Martial Artists and more
Near the Mess House pub in Oldham guys die by a single punch

These savory and unsavory characters were the fabric of England
Some I remember and many I forget for right or wrong reasons
Their stories live on here my poem for you to judge

your words hurt.
the way they CReep down my stomach
waltzzz in my intesTINES
swing across my kindeys.
turning it inside out.
makes me wanna crEEP up to you
wwwaltz around your body
and SWING at your face.

Flickering lights
Scrolling past image after image
Of loss, suffering
While i lay back on my bed
My life is mirage of the chaos outside

Papers strewn about my desk
An internal struggle for innovation
Ignorant of what lays beyond the cold, glass windows
A hand cast over my eyes
Shielding them from what is too painful to see

As the numbness washes over me
i stare at the ceiling
Stressing over what to do with my life
No purpose, no hope

A feeling of uselessness

Maybe i should just die
A self-centered voice cries out
No one would care
No one would notice

but what would happen?
i question

is it really better--
to live without a hint of the future to come
or to die knowing the outcome?

the idea flew away
gone away like the rain

Yet the blinds remain closed
To the outside world
Only the strobe effect of artificial lights fill the room

Shut into a enclosed space
Where only i stay
Poring over words
Their beauty
Their pain

Once, we were unable to look at a violent image
Without regurgitating
Now i can see something like that and compartmentalize it
Trap it in a box, never to be seen again
No more tears fall from my once-swollen lids
As i’ve moved on from the emotional
Towards an unforeseeable future
Dehumanized

He was the god of forgiveness
The god of second chances

And we killed him.

So what do we blindly honor now
In this given life?

They say, you never really know what
someone else is going through,
and what we going through is real,
its the same for struggles too.
I know life is full of issues,
challenges, and obstacles,
but tell me, when you face to face with it,
what do you plan to do?

Are you gonna freeze up, or
do you plan to make a move?
If life is short, and time is money,
each second is valuable.
No time to waste, everyday,
choices I make are unthinkable.
They say tomorrow isn't promised, so
I'm blessed to have seen twenty-two.

My life is full of the ups and downs,
from a broken home,
I saw my mom abused
with bruises all around.
Her mental health dropped so low,
I cried out to God like "why" or "how"
Drugs did some damage to her brain.
It hurts to just look at her now
****...

That stuff showed me how not to be as a man.
I learned how not to treat a woman
or hurt her with my hands.
The look of fear in my sisters eyes
as they screamed and cried -
Our brains are semi-scarred,
It forever left us traumatized...

But I look at this man who caused us
so much pain and harm.
When he was 7, his mom was
stabbed to death; he held her in his arms.
His father wasn't around.
Jail became his childhood home.
I don't justify his actions, but
things happen that we'll never know...

They say, you never really know what
someone else is going through,
and what we going through is real,
its the same for struggles too.
I know life is full of issues,
challenges, and obstacles,
but tell me, when you face to face with it,
what do you plan to do?
[What's Your Move?]

XVII. Presently Pushing through the Pain