when the wicked sprout,
like grass - with fist 'n clout,
when evil-doers flourish,
suffocating all that nourish,
when they fester and canker
like a malignant cancer,
when they bud burgeon and flower,
showing the world their power,
spread their darkness 'n void
their blackened tempestuous rule
it's that they may be destroyed
be swallowed in own cesspool.
for evil self-consumes,
creates its own hell-doom,
its burst of prosper 'n bloom
is to burn in flame and fume,
besmirchment of innocent pure,
will never ever endure.
Light will triumph and prevail
and the depraved will fall and fail.

subtle as an amber sunset
midst blushing orange clouds
as the flames that play duet
with pyre of corpse in shrouds

subtle as the rush of water
cascading in mock wrath
daring to the death 'n slaughter
the rocks that lie in path

subtle as beguiling magic
wrapping mind 'n heart in veil
blurring sadness, memories tragic,
in golden misty dale

What am I?

Love lifts us up
It can power the world
With its energy
With its light
Whereas hate puts down

Cruelty destroys our spirit
It minimizes us
Pushes us down
Kindness soothes and inspires

Small mindedness shrinks
Tolerance opens up
It  helps us spread our wings
To open up our heart to others

Start every day start smiling
With the pure joy of being alive
Offer kindness and laughter
Especially in difficult times

Let’s makes a difference
Push away darkness
To help light up the world
To heal our wounds

In our own special way
Light up the world

once upon a time there was a world
with smells and colours and sound
people would watch how roses unfurled
watch the blackbirds pecking the ground

there was sweet silence within the quiet
a place where angels and fairies could dwell
plenty of space for colour to riot,
forget-me-not with the bluebell

there were greens of the spring, gold of the summer,
orange-browns that made the heart sing,
fluttering of birds in wake of newcomer,
swallows and swifts circling on wing

it was a world where the people cared,
heard the heartbeat of mother-nature,
no place for kitschy pop-posts shared
incessant interruptions as leaf's crenature

the so-called prosaic had depth and music
we weren't so clever but men were still true
we lived in harmony with world's acoustic,
before we sloughed the soul's inner view

once there was a world where people connected
not on the screen but in their souls,
where the inner voice was always respected,
people in tune with their inner goals.

i pray and hope we'll still be able
to pass this on to the next generation
else a world, tottering, unstable,
has orchestrated its own cessation

"He'd never annex Crimea," said political analysts.
Until the day he did.
"War in the Donbas? Never!" opined the seasoned journalists.
Then there was. Just because.
"He'd never do it to Ukraine,"
said geriatrics sans a brain.
Then flushed their opinion down the drain
Three times burnt,
You'd think they'd learnt
The word 'never' doesn't apply
to the Kremlin's mighty guy
Yet, "He'd never press the button!"
Mouth politicians over their mutton.
While world watches, eyes incredulous
West End movie in slow-motion
As the Monster, persistent, sedulous,
void of feeling and emotion,
presses button, rings the death-knell,
smiles as east and west do flounder
pulls the rope, rings the death-bell
on humanity to fall and founder
to burn in fire with their hater
the world a crisp on incinerator.