Long golden curls
Dressed in white cotton
Red rosy cheeks
A childhood forgotten

Laughter that’s lost
And innocence gone
Dreams that were stolen
For you there are none

A spirit so broken
A child of the street
Thoughts yet unspoken
No tears left to weep

Exposed to the drugs
To shut out the pain
You numb out the memories
And take on the shame

There are no words
to aptly describe
How the man in the street
Has ruined your lives

Your bought by the dollar
The pound and the yen
Your bodies abused
Again and again

A childhood demolished
A nightmare, no dream
As into the night
You silently scream.

“I like his hair” said Karen

“I like his eyes” said Sue

“I  like his smile” said Mary

"I like his laugh “said Lou

“I like his wit” said Margret.

“I like his ***” said May.

“I took his heart" smiled Jackie

“I stole it and hid it away!

So many scars I thought.

“***** me, *****, ***** ******* me”

“Don’t do it I” I pleaded.

Cut, scratch, scrape the flesh

“Bleed you *******, bleed!

It doesn't hurt, it helps.

Not normal, what the ***** normal

You can’t destroy something that’s

That’s already destroyed.”

(He shouts at me)

“Look at me!  Go on; tell me I’m not already broken.”

Empty eyes, reflecting nothing.

Inward staring; shutting me out .

He looked up at me with an air of indifference

Then handed me the blade.

So many scars I thought; so many nightmares.

(Inspired by my great grandfather)

Capt: Albert Victor Champion RHA

Children of the Somme, men of mud and water
killed by lead and steel, for them no last supper
no last meal. Children of the Somme, consumed
by mud and water, sent in there thousands
to their slaughter.
Nerves that were shattered,breath that was shallow
felled in fields that were lifeless and fallow.
Hearts that were pounding, bodies that trembled
as in the trenches men assembled.
like an order from god they awaited there place,
to go over the top and stare death in the face.
Men of all nations men of all ages; condemned
to there death and the history books pages.

Lest we forget..................... Remember them.

(memories from a lost youth)

When i was small the world was a big place
and there were lions at the bottom of our garden.
I never knew what a mortgage was
and i was never allowed to stay up late!
You got lots of presents at Christmas
and on birthdays we played postman knocks
and kissed girls in dark cuboards, he he.
Our toilet was at the bottom of the garden,
mum said our garden looked like a jungle;
so you learnt to hold your *** after dark.

Cos there was Lions at the bottom of our garden!

I set my watch for half past nine
and arranged to meet my
courtesan,
my lover, my demimondaine,
my demirep, my queen of the night,
my inamoratas,
my mistress.... My my, is that the time
I can't be late for my concubine