First came the credit crunch
As millions lost their stash
And scammers on a hunch
Helped the markets crash

Then came Brexit,
Dividing the nation,
Lies like sepsis
Spreading altercation

Next with classic whiplash
Population took some dives
As Covid became a smash
And millions lost their lives

Roller-coaster aint yet ended
we've got some way to go
As Putin's got intended
And Trump laughs **-**-**

Let's hold hands now as we duck
Coz the next one's gonna hurt,
Wish I could turn clock back..
The future to avert ...

soft amidst the melting snows
peeping through the dew and ice
'neath the chill of wind that blows
'cross the plains of paradise

from the earth, in tender darkness
cradled by the arms of death
blooms a violet, purple grace,
and two pearls of fairy breath

soft from midst the snows that melt
peering through the latticed ice
'neath caress of wind heartfelt
breathed from Garden of Delights

from the soil, in the black,
wake from sleep of coldest season,
deepest green with gloss of lac,
zephyr blows from gardens' Eden.

loathsome stink,
the stench of mundane,
suffocates spark.
the pull of body,
fingers the neck and squeezes.

soul splutters,
spirit flounders,
hope is all but lost.

Yet whisper laughter,
and light flickers,
in moment, eternity,
life into shadow.

Then it passes.
corpse lies still,
as spirit lives on
in choice of host.

down into the valley of death
went two hundred and fifty five
into the mouth and jaws of death
into the jaws of hell.

Was there a man dismayed?
Not that the soldiers knew,
(Someone had blundered.
   Theirs not to make reply,
   Theirs not to reason why,
   Theirs but to do and die.)

For they'd come in their ****** brigade
marauders in planned coup,
burnt the children with parents alive,
wrapped with wire of hate,
***** the girls as thousands died,
bullets spelled checkmate.
  Theirs not to reason why,
   Theirs to suffer and die.

sliced off fingers, gouged out eye,
sliced off *****, left to die,
Theirs not to make reply,
  Theirs but to bleed and die.

They left no vestige of life
Where they plundered with murderous knife
Flamed the houses with kids inside
Laughed at the screams as they burnt and died

(Someone had blundered.
   Theirs not to make reply,
   Theirs not to reason why,
   Theirs but to do and die.)

down into the valley of death
Went two hundred and fifty five
into the smoke of bomb and canon
into the smoke of hell

bite ye humans, gnash your teeth
feed on blood ye hypocrites
but there in corner, 'neath the ash,
there's a nobody worth all your stash

he doesn't speak or power seek
he won't tread upon your toes,
he's still as water, in thought as deep,
that he exists no-one knows.

but around him the universe goes
in that silence that no-one knows,
and he'll be here when you're gone,
Western culture like Babylon.

Does nature find solace in human hands,
As plastic blossom replace G-d's plans,
And oceans choke on treasures' sands?

As mighty trees gasp for air,
Stagger 'neath man's love affair
With money, power, devil-may-care.

And as they splutter their oxygen,
Wildlife's symphonies echo thin
Beneath progress’s discordant din.

Ecstatic, humans tout repair,
As Earth, in silence, yields to tear,
Honey'd words, care insincere.

Resilient, you persist,
O weary warrior of iron-clad wrist.
Until ye despoilers cease to exist.

the music in the wood
sweet rustle in the trees
there's a blackbird and a thrush
whistling in the breeze

the gurgling of the brook
clear water runs its way
the squawk of duck and goose
reveling in its spray

sunlight glints off wings
of the mayfly and its mate
there's a fox i see swift running
in the hedgerows by the gate

and by the gate lies the horrors
of grey cement and death
the rushing of the traffic
that suffocates baby's breath

the coldness of the person
who cannot spare a smile
a helping hand or word
to the beggar or senile

As rose begins to light the skies,
Dew'd petals wake from sleep,
As songs of thrush in air arise,
'Midst swallows' swoop and leap,

In that beauty, harsh and hard,
A canard's tail slithers,
A falsehood dressed in truth all marred,
A golden poppy withered,

And shadows grow from day to night,
Crushing love's embrace,
And darkness smothers beacons bright,
The light of Divine Face.

there's a noose around my neck
and it's getting tighter,
tick-tock ticktock pendulum
the old swinging blighter,
free at last from corporal shackle
spirit's so much lighter
free at last from crackle-hackle
the ol' cursed backbiter.

In the shadowed streets that sigh
Under burden of human cry,
From the troubled hearts that weep,
As secrets silent sleep.

There flows a river where flowers bloom
On banks of gold and verdant plume,
Where zaftig earth finds its voice,
In nature's sweet rejoice.

And as the dawn in crimson hue,
Breaks on world refreshed anew,
Sun of hope and prayer true
Sparkles silver yon pavements' dew.

In grey silence, time stands watch,
Sentinels from bygone era,
Granite tombs, stannite wombs,
Final cradles, carved by hands.

Resting places
Devoid of breath,
Lives in cases,
Embraced -- by death.

Dreams and hopes of yesteryears
In cold repose,
Excite and hate, love and fears,
In deep earth's hold.

Within, all light of memories dimmed,
The sun's soft rays a fleeting hymn,
All murmured love long since winged.

And o'er the grey of beasts unbent,
Echoes life's lament.
Bitter tears of empty years,
Cold stone that no-one hears.

In the forest, deep and ancient,
Where the whispering winds do wander,
Where the rivers, swift and silver,
Sing their song in seeping sorrow,
Stood the oak, of mighty ancients,
Still, its silence, strong 'n steadfast,
Gnarled roots deep in highland soil,
Mighty arms stretched wide to heavens,
Stretching arms of ancient sages,
In the war of wisdom waging,
Witness to the passing ages,
Solace to the aged bearing,
Tidings good to those who carry
Light to cleanse the dark and shadow,
As from east, the dawn approaches,
Dawning scarlet's silver glow,
Sure as leopard 'pon her prey,
Soft of foot upon the meadow,
Soft upon the Morning star,
Ishtar in her morn arrayed,
Shinning 'fore the four-horsed carriage,
Bids adieu to the darkness,
Adieu to deepest night,
With presage of hope and courage
Bows 'fore brightest, king of light.
Brightest dawn in fire resplendence,
Night surrenders to the day.

In the grey dawn, a crow's call,
Harsh, unbidden, as prophet's cry,
Foretelling unspoken shadows.

On the ancient oak, a sentinel,
Gnarled branches whispering past legends,
Roots clawing the shrouded future.

'Neath the ground, secrets stir
Through the wind's steady howling,
A presage of what's to come.

The smoky shadows prance and sway,
Voices rise, as incense in the air,
Minds fence, ideas clashing, debate sparking,
Every word a dagger's whispered mark
As disputatious souls dance through rhetoric
Seeking truth in dialectic duel.

Twilight whispers,
Awakens shadows,

Dreams unfurl o'er the sylvan edge,
As moonlight's kiss gives voice to night,
And stars twirl o'er temporal hedge,

Veiled in dusk’s embrace,
A creeping bramble begins its chase,
Bidding flowers of morrow stay.

Yet single bud defies the dark.
Though twilight’s tendrils encroach,
It bursts upon the darkening gloom,
The undeterred,
Of transient beauty.

the people, in jostle,
of divers emotion,
eddied by current,
eternal motion,

this one pushing a nascent life,
this one pushed by trouble and strife,
this one sniffing his way to heaven,
this one sniveling twix six or seven,
this one's nose high up in the air,
this one's tripping with jazz a-blare

discordant melody that rocks the earth
surrounds one's life from home and hearth

happy's the one who attaches to spirit,
thinks instead of repeating like parrot,
material of life to disinherit,
dissolves the chains, the collar of garrote.

there's a millstone round my neck
splitting twain my weary head
life reduced to living wreck
from that day that i was wed

They spun their tangled, divers lies,
hid the awful, tamed the spies,
Caught within their sticky web
now my vital force in ebb

in ebb
in ebb

suffering fate reserved for flies
day by day, and year by year
takes its toll, no surprise,
here's a hamster running sphere

parlaying quality action,
obedience to inner voice
in thought, speech, or sanction,
aware of Divine free choice

self-worth for obeisance to opinion
inflating a doomed balloon,
bowing to man, unworthy dominion,
weaving an iron cocoon

insides beats rhythm of hopes and dreams,
like jazz, pulsating nowhere,
screaming aloud it ain't what it seems,
a world that's doomed to failure

Between a rock and a hard place you can find
A blessing in disguise of the challenging kind,
As every cloud has a silver lining (so I'm told),
Go chase the rainbows and the pots o' gold.

At the end of the day, hit the ground running,
Think out of the box, be ever so stunning,
Touch base and break the glass-ceiling,
Push the envelope, leave others reeling.

But throwing 'em 'neath the bus is an ignoble act,
And actions speak louder than words (-that's a fact),
So by all means make lemonade when life gives you lemons,
But don't use folks as step-stones to embrace your demons.

Better late than never, they always say,
But it is what it is, come what may.
Now the ball's in your court: take it to the next level,
In this game of clichés, we're quite the devil.

In the storm,
The darkness of sorrow,
As petulant winds threaten
And the thunder takes hold,
All shadows loom close.

no light, no angel on my shoulder,
no, just the devil caressing.

Hope dwindles.
Cringes in the darkest corner,
Dreaming of a deus ex machina,
The dawn of a new journey.

My melody faltered long ago,
Lost in the discordance of false society.

each day is a fragment of soul
some lopped, some gained,
one day i'll be again whole,
free, like a bird uncontained.

through the grey i sense the smile
through the dark i hear his cry
waiting for me all the while,
aye, until the day i die.

through the blisters, through the pain,
through the losses, through false gain,
for to find the worth of living,
just for giving, just forgiving.

Frozen.
like the strings of my heart.
Hard.
Like my outward countenance.

But beneath, the fish swim freely,
feelings no-one sees,
beyond the touchy-feely,
beneath the sword of Damocles.

Secular hustle of city streets,
neons cozen the weary,
flicker with promise, eternal nights,
fleeting moments to wake the dreary.

but 'neath the surface, there's no converse,
only echoes, leitmotif of isolation,
lost in labyrinth of sweet sensation,
loss of life in soul stagnation.

dry as a beggar's over-parched throat
as an over-burnt piece of blackened rye-toast
as the golden sand in Sahara roast
was the air o' the day of the black death-note

as the air crackled with the laughter of death
and claimed the millions as it left bereft
daughters of the earth their heart a-cleft
from the breath of the devil with the head of Macbeth

Houses, untenable, ditched searing memories,
Turned sarcophagi from life and its treasuries
Scorched skeletons of sagas and histories,
Of family feuds, celebrations and victories,
Of open secrets and whispered mysteries,

Years of toil blest by gold sunbeams,
The laughter of babes and the giggle of teens,
Now fractured windows and ash blackened beams,
Skeletal remains of life and its dreams.

In the hush of winter’s breath,
Where mountains sleep,
Stands a crest, silent,
Nestled in nature’s ice.

In white array, dawn whispers.
Lustre o' icicles reflect approaching morn,
The voice of the eagle soaring,
The song of the unheard sun,
Break forth in new excursion.

In gelid breath of winter's night,
Shadows chase a fading light,

Beneath grey moon,
the stars are still,
No warmth to break the biting chill,

Through frosty winds and icy rain,
In cloak of winter's harsh domain,
As landscape wraps in frozen frill,
Another victim in frigid ****,
A helpless world lies still,
In winter's grip.

in a box
stiller than the asphalt concrete
no soul within

round about the air hangs heavy
teardrops on the leaves
and clouds hold back

no more tears left in heaven.

In haze of wintry pallor,
Weighed by days gone by,
My memories flutter,
Once pristine, like cloudless sky,
now, beleaguered by heavy sighs,
they fade one by one b'fore my eyes.

Where dreams once swelled
they now falter. Quelled.
Fated to die.

Yet where they lie lingers a shadowy breath,
With echoes eternal beyond the setting sun,
Beyond the quiet of creeping death,
Emotions as a tapestry spun,
Newest fingerprint of the One.

Ashen yolk struggled to shine
Its effervescence clearly waned,
Now tired, cold, and weary,
its face worn and pained

Yet i knew in my heart it was here to stay,
to persevere regardless
it would watch the days pass away
and forever would light up the darkness

In the quiet of dawn,
Shadows yawn,
As the tome turns over a page,

Here no leaf is torn,
none too worn,
For every side is an age,

Each whisper of wind,
neatly tinned,
nothing assigned backstage.

Each life is drawn,
whether king or pawn,
politician, fool or sage,

Heartbeats recorded,
the clean and the sordid,
As the ink bleeds through veins on the page.

Saw a vase on the table
sweet williams and chyrsanths,
perfect, like from a fable,
ready for French romance.

the greens and reds contrasted
in lively voice of colour
as if they knew their planting
was theirs to scream and holla

Now they're tired and wither,
their heads droop down in pain,
they know not whither nor whether
their strength they will regain

there is a language above the letters
composed of more than words
it knows not grammar or similar fetters
and flies on wings of birds

soul sings,
soars cerulean skies
searching, seeking,
attaching ode of awe
to Everlasting One.

what is a language?
human brain feeling its way
constricted by mere words

In the greying steel and glass,
hands, dry and blistered, labour,
a merciless smoke turns days to dusk,
as a worker grunts to neighbour

through din and grime, thin bodies mined,
choking in tireless toil,
All dreams quenched, all brains confined
To clunk of drums and oil.

Beyond lies world where riches rule,
Where lies are painted bright,
Marble steps to cerulean pool,
Break the rhythm of light.

Each step another shoulder bowed,
Another voice is numbed,
Another to submission cowed,
As feelings rank, unplumbed.

And dreams are forced to wilt and die,
In factory's metallic guise,
Beneath unseeing, endless sky,
In sweat of muted cries.

Lady Autumn, in russet hues,
'Neath urban shawl, in shadows fold,
Her softest breath, a poet's muse,
Silk whispers, saffron gold.

Skin aglow, with burnt flushed cheeks,
She fulminates 'gainst dying sun,
In skies that smoulder in crimson streaks,
Her voice, the wind's, lamenting hum,

To every leaf a eulogy,
Tribute to its murmured secret,
Once a part of Symphony,
Now tumbles to a tyre's rut.

Soft the pavements tread her cloak,
In alleyways, in quietude,
Drapes from willow and chestnut oaks,
Now silhouette of awkward ****,

In amber light, in frozen grasp,
As frost begins its creep,
As Autumn yields to Winter's clasp,
As world succumbs to sleep.

'Cross sombre fields, as shadows softly creep,
And fingers' twilight hush the world,
An addlepated wanderer, his mind asleep,
Ambles o'er a gaia upcurl'd.

In winding paths, 'mongst ancient oaks,
Midst fragrant pines and needles,
A maze of tangled thoughts of jokes,
Of tricks and jibes and wheedles,

Finds solace in solitude,
A quiet of golden hues,
And soft aside a slumbering brood
'Neath Diana's glows diffuse

Sighs beneath the weight of life
unpacks his heart's despair,
and closes eyes to whirl of strife,
To breathe the peaceful air.

Twilight where the shadows blend,
Beneath the veil of time,
Where thousand lives their journeys end,
And start eternal climb.

worn and free, in silver mist,
An essence wends its way,
through memories of chances missed,
through plans that now decay.

As dreams and whispers from the past,
Block path, elusive flight,
'Mongst the fragments of broken hearts,
Seeps wraith of fulgent light.

A relic of truth of bygone days,
Good deed that was not lost,
Frail and thin, it shines its rays
And bears the spirit aloft.

"Where does He dwell?", sing the angels
"Where's His abode?", their refrain,
between the lips of heart's beseech
Beatific's Light's contain'd.

Between the woods and frozen lake, a winter's chill,
A white blanched silence blankets dale and hill,
In crystal frost, diverse potpourri of nature's twill,
All still, in whispered breath of Divine Will.

On greenest bank where daffodils sway,
where bluebells awe the senses,
where field-thrush with blackbirds play
beneath the hawthorn fences

On dewy grass of early May,
Of verdant meadow breezes,
Beneath the oak, the wooers lay,
Where nature's love appeases.

I heard the murmur of a stream,
cool brook of crystal waters,
that shimmered as an alpine gleam
a sun with million daughters

It said it promised to create
world new, rejuvenate,
With warmth and light embrace the soul
babe start on fresh new goal.

And though from far there came the roar
Of greed, of horror, of want for more,
of blood, of battle, of broken heart,
of lies, corruption, of untold hurt,

I lay back in that light's embrace
In dawn of newest world,
And let myself believe in Grace,
Of blessing to unfurl.

i lit one candle, then i lit two,
i lit another and I thought i was through,
but then a fourth popped up together with his brother,
then a sixth, and a seventh, and an eighth and another,
i said, "hello? are you a ninth light?
the menorah has eight, to light up the night,
where can i put you, where d'you fit in?"
said he, "i'm the servant, i'm the linchpin!
I'm the one who makes the others give light;
You won't hear about me, i keep out of sight,
down below, high above, i'm not of the eight,
but without me they're nothing, so don't underrate
the schlepper, the beadle, the one behind scenes,
we're the join in the seams to make life what it means.

he doff'd his cap, all suave and urbane,
i am the idol you serve in vain,
i am the recognition of people around,
ephemeral honour to which you are bound,
as you can see i'm nothing but air
it's all in your mind. I'm not really there.

he sat by himself
the man by the fire
sipping his wine
nursing his ire
thinking of those times, of the years gone by,
the children laughing, the jostle, the cry,
watching them grow, each in their fashion,
this one was gentle, this one with passion,
now they're gone as moonlight that flitters,
he's left with those thoughts, a memory that glitters,
the wars of love, of hurt and despair,
as he sips his red wine, alone in his chair.

If all the world were monochrome,
black and white like a funeral home,
layers of grey of different shades,
gloom and doom of deepest hades

if colour was something you read of in book,
an out-world experience of an LSD hook,
then all at once someone switched on the light
and wow what a difference before you in sight

how your spirits would lift as you looked round in wonder
at the greens and the mauves and the blues over yonder,
the bricks of the wall in shades of red coral,
the yellows and limes of the willow and laurel,
faces of scarlet, of softness of pink,
depth and complexity of a master craft's ink,
what a wonderful world that would be to be in,
aye --- a wonderful it is, to be in.

hah hah! human hate hackles,
laughter lunges long lacerators,
carves crucifying cutting crackles
covert cutthroat collaborators.

until when the falling petals
until when the drops of blood
until when the wasted essence
until uncurls new flowerbud

a drop of ink on parchment
lines spreading black on white
so the soul in flesh apartment
spreads its rays in black of night

my sister opened wide the curtains
trust a woman to be the first
ever since linger uncertain
a tendency formed at birth

in private world to be submerged
but yearning for the limelight
frightened of the unrehearsed
perverse desire shine up bright

now i'm seeing the curtains closing
i've had my chance to light the night,
chosen to be self-enclosing,
'stead of straight to shout what's right.

if i had a chance, would i do it better,
would i find the path of strength,
speak up clear without a fretter
walk the path of untold length?

now i find i'm losing hold,
head submerging in the water,
soon to lie in bed of cold,
world apart, universe un autre.