cherub so fair
raven black hair
eyes azure
as grandfather
face radiant
perfect, pure, true,
features salient
i remember you

with tiny hands 'n fingers moving
there you lay swathed in pipes
in distress from convolut'd tubing
not from teething or testinal gripes

in ICU unit of babies diverse
at mercy of overworked nurse
no sound left your mouth, no whimper or cry
when they said you had predilection to die

when no-one was looking, your face turned blue
from lack of oxygen from outside to you,
no-one noticed as your life slipped away
none there for you on your last day

when blood is cheap
is it time to weep?

when animals matter more
is it time to keep score?

when police abuse
do we watch more news?

as rivers run purple with human blood
earth saturated with pain
skies run scarlet as lava flood
sweeps life 'n limb down the drain

Covid and war
who's keeping score?
what will come next?
send me a text

there's a valley being filled
with pain and tears
its colour scarlet grill'd
by scare and fears

spilt by tool infernal
all the years
every drop eternal
wails in ears

the cries of babes and wives
rent asunder
the innocence of lives
laid to plunder

let me wade in the blood
be part 'n under
let me sink into the mud
o' eternal blunder

or may i choose life
for every drop spilt
for every cut of the knife
for untimely wilt

for the sake of the slain
stand up straight
for the sake of the pain
give up hate

increase acts of love
soar toward
on wings of white dove
the Elusive Lord

take His Hand in mine
salve His Sorrow
for together we can twine
a better morrow

father of child
bent over 'n smiled
bound with love
at his li'l dove

human umbrella
shelters the child
poor little fella
will ne'er be 'conciled

death wrought the air
tore it with scare
ended a life
too soon afterlife

blood on side-walk
on wall pasted
once laughed and talk'd
now spilt 'n wasted

new scar to be healed
new anger revealed
a killer's fate sealed
by dead human shield

blue velvet
eternal sea
royal curtain
'I am that be'.

devil incarnate
shatters the peace
muscle of hate
venom'd release

scarlet tears
human blood
Ancient of Years
buried in mud

metal and powder
pierce the external
but no earthly power
can stop the eternal

for yet from chagrin
shall salvation sprout
as new world begins
and old world will out.

it started like any other
a day in a month in a year
i waved good-bye to my brother
mother held back a tear
with pack on my back
i boarded the train
all set to track
a rougher terrain
to mountains alive
with celestial music
a buzzing hive
of quiet acoustic
in wood and in glade
every grass, every blade,
all light 'n shade,
matter calcic and humic,
buttons o' G-d's tunic
shining pure gold
the ancient, the old,
a bastion of peace
from avenging ire
from man's caprice
from world on fire
from lust for success
in G-d's largesse
heavenly blest
no greed or excess
no rush for progress
in milieu of emeralds
no nascent dictator
no destroyer of worlds
no human-life baiter
but midst the Eden
lay archetypal snake
interspersed with reason
bred on heartache
a venomous tooth
foxy and furtive
language uncouth
aggression assertive
coiled at bend
ready to unwend
the henchman at crossroad
waiting at gate
with poisonous goad
and age-old hate
overused trope
from mouth void o' hope
arguments specious
ostensibly sound
gaining impetus
as he held his ground
polluting, plundering
the sweet mountain air
innocence encumbering
with insidious fare
till he'd decimated
the Garden of Eden
it subjugated
to blood of the demon
and G-d had grown wings
had flown far away
the Ancient King
now waits for new day.

ever seen a restless lion,
impatient, antsy, a lion on-edge,
roaring at his bars of iron,
longing for the rocky ledge

yearning for the arid savanna
the sweet smell of savage hunt
the scuffle with the young hyaena,
the vanquished's final grunt

ever seen the tired ape
the depressed orang-outang
lying captive, a worn-out cape
benumbed from all pain or pang

lost all hope of hanging branches
the overgrown Amazon marshes
forgotten the delights of the wild
the call of tribe and his sister's child

ever seen a prisoner's despair
locked away from all society
his loss of self-worth and self-care
his state of mental inebriety

once-gregarious reduced to staring
never hears the music blaring
a listless, languid, brainless zombie
outside world inane cryptography

ever seen your mate in club
your chum-friend at the local pub
smiling, laughing, without a care,
taking part in truth-or-dare

beneath the outer charm and suaveness
calmness of a Greek Adonis
lies a restless, confounded soul,
prisoner with no parole

lies an intelligence rattling the bars
peering out through aged scars,
muffled, muted by cruelest medicine,
fated eternal jail denizen

longs to escape to outside world,
break the bars, flag unfurled,
but as those captives in the zoo
has lost all hope of living like you.

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?

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.

he had the wherewithal and the madness
held West to the wall
exploded ultimate bomb of sadness
laughed at country's fall
there was cough, there was splutter
in the corridors of democracy
there was slight embarrassed stutter
as they crumbled 'fore monocracy
as they waved white flag in flutter
wrung their hands before the violence
as they washed the ash down gutter.
as they kept their pledge of silence

"so, you think i'm gone?", He said,
"you think i've disappeared?",
"you think i don't know 'bout your dead
the ill that saturn's speared?"

"ere since time and space were born
since man distinguished night from morn
did i ever say i'm here?
did i myself appear?"

"yes, i spoke from burning briar,
from midst of darkest cloud,
i declared from tongues of fire
before a frightened crowd."

"i've spoken to the pure of heart,
appeared to men 'n women of vision,
but did they ever see me part
from creation as in scission?"

"child, my child, i hide in all,
and always will be so,
all worlds i wear as a shawl
in order that you may know

that deep within, in void of ego,
where gloom and pain their arms upthrow,
where a man dissolves his name,
lays down the chase to world acclaim

realises honour's utmost futility
in the place o' deepest humility
there i am and always will be,
in the nothingness, I am me."

i didn't find G-d in study houses
when i went for him to search
nor on the lecterns of pulpit rabbis
nor neath arches of the church

i found him not amongst the folds
of priests' robes and their cassocks,
nor in design of braid and gold
of curtains and the hassocks

i didn't hear him in the cries
of prayers, no, nor their sighs
nor in the swirling of the dervish
or the mass or jumah service

but when i lifted the old man's bags,
helped a beggar in dirt and rags,
gave bread 'n shelter to the drifter,
then i heard His voice, a whisper.

beard, ashen grey, swept by the winds
of years and centuries, aeons gone by,
misunderstood, forever chagrined
by the earth and the men and the sea and the sky

on staff he leans, weighed down by sins
of the heart and the mind and the hand and the hip
wild hair and locks bellowed by winds,
white shredded sails on wreck'd mast of ship

he'd put down his scythe, his sickle and reaper
bought a break as death's doorkeeper
but the hubris of world dictator
bade him grasp the detonator

soon swarms of poppies blood-red
scarlet and pink as tired sunset
angry as the blood of maidens
blushing as illicit bedspread

scattered as myriad bloodshot eyes,
of mothers mourning as child dies,
as gore spurting in the skies
as brothers shot amid war-cries

ploughed the fields with hearts that bled
plagued burnt hills as barrows of dead
mutilated, youth-abated,
limbs of lives amputated

the squeal of babe, the cry of lamb,
crushed as raspberries in a jam
mulched the fields in pants o' breath
****** by masters of their death

for death now trampled underfoot
the innocent boys, girls and babies
turned their skin to gunpowder soot
ravaged their limbs with famine 'n tabes

ash and hail, desolation,
earth reeling from stagnation
sent death pleading for abation
from the lord of creation

but 'twas nowhere to be seen
not in the heavens with his queen
nor in the throne-room overseeing
for he is forever the elusive being

now hiding from celestial choir
now living in eternal fire
now head burning in funeral pyre
at one with souls as they transpire

as the madness and the envy
mad desire, lust and frenzy,
continue, continue, unabated
till all consumes, as is fated.

broken, bent, o'er his staff,
bent over countries in bloodbath,
o'er the bodies rent in half,
o'er waste of human wrath

over the greed that never ends
never pays dividends
devours 'n divides family 'n friends,
itself consumes, in the end.

there once was a cow that gave cash
from its udder - came out in a hash,
said farmer, "that's strange
she don't give no change
but i'll add that to the rest o' me stash!"

no-one knows
i'm stuck in here
where no-one goes
'n no-one can hear

i've got no strength left to struggle
to dicker, bicker or to wrangle
soon a sound like geese-a-gaggle
as the rope squeezes the vagal

and then, release from veils 'n parable,
release from meanings allegorical,
from pretence, lies 'n deception,
from politic's priests of misdirection.

and then all bliss?
or a snap and a hiss
of ten thousand voices
all of my choices

haunting chasing
watching me racing
for in hell there's no escape
from black devil in hooded cape

tried to light a candle
a flame by the window
squashed by a sandal
an ogre and its shadow

dark like the night,
where the black is bright,
in favourite haunt
his prize he taunts
his suffocating air,
of decay and blight,
in web of hair -
i've lost the fight.

lost the fight 'gainst invincible darkness
envelops all, the heart, and heartless,
***** the life with nonchalance
blocks all light from ambience

hanging, gaunt, i sink still further
hellfires cackle with glee and fervour
lick my soul with blackened tongue
from lifeless body hung and strung

in the shadow
of a rainbow
through the prism of divine
in the soft light
by the window
sits a woman in her shrine

there she paints
among the saints
that like the sun and stars do shine
in the night
when all is faint
her expression of divine

free of slander
golden candour
gives her voice to yearning pine
shining bright
as shining amber
caught in moment crystalline

Oh, the grand old Duke of York
He lost his right to the crown
he did something he didn't do
[woops!] and dropped his trousers down

And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were neither up nor down

Oh, the grand old Duke of York
He eyed another's skirts
He did something he didn't do
And couldn't get rid of the dirt

And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were neither up nor down

Oh, the grand old Duke of York
He lost 40 million crown
he met someone he never met
And let his country down

And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were neither up nor down

Yes, the grand old Duke of York
He hid in his mother's skirts
When he did something he didn't do
And couldn't get rid of the dirt

Yay, that grand old Duke of York
He hired the best law men
He marched them up to the top of the hill
And he marched them down again

And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were neither up nor down

Yes, that grand old Duke of York,
He had 10 million quid.
He gave it to someone he never met,
For something he never did.

[all together now:]
And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were neither up nor down

Oh, the grand old Duke of York
Caught with royal pants down
When he did something he didn't do
And lost his right to the crown

And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were neither up nor down

in a crevice of the earth
beats a heart
like a newborn babe at birth
at the start
as new life emits a gurgle
and a cry
prepares to jump the hurdle
or to die

so the snowdrop lifts its sleepy head
from beneath its snowy spread
a revival from the dead
at the edge of flower-bed

its flash of white
like moon in night
augurs sight
of colours bright

as Artist starts anew
His canvas set and true
no imprecise slapdash
or impotence 'n backlash

for here He blends true harmony
the plant, the flower, the bird, the tree,
and all combine and music sing
in herald of [the] season spring.

scattered fireflies
wandering sheep
windows of a thousand cries
that make the angels weep

silent in the night
meandering in your flight
yet set course traverse G-d's haven
deepest velvet, black as raven

secrets of a million years
laughter of a thousand tears
stars that guide the world's affairs
from afar on unawares

Stop press!
I confess
for wedding-band
i did not stand
nor for my rights
to scale life's heights
to spend my nights
with set sight
my soul's delight
who shined so bright
upon my midheaven

oh yes, i regret,
my life's meander,
i'll not quick forget
that living wonder
drop o' thousand rainbows
secret of green meadows
more delicate than a buttercup
graced by angelic dewdrop
why did i not tell you
not send you billet-doux
about the million sparks of you
that shine upon my heaven

let's do it, i said
i'm a bona fides reprobate
let's call up the dead
arouse Mother Fate

we dressed ourselves purple
like butterflies and birds
sat in a circle
said all the words

in mix of drama and derring-do
we painted a pentagon in electric blue
lit red candles and turned down the light
and waited and waited the whole --- night

then just before dawn
as i stifled a yawn
as if in a blur
i saw something stir

at first I thought
'twas imagination
but then i was sure
it was a visitation

the hairs stood up on the back of my neck
my heart beat faster as i thought 'what the ----'
my arms 'n legs froze as if inert,
though all o' my senses were really alert

inky, metallic, with glinting eyes
hooded, unworldly, as if taken by surprise
air of sinister, darker affairs,
unaware of all our fixated stares

it came on slowly, unsure at first,
then started forward, as if coerced
as if beckoned by unseen power,
by spirits o' nefarious witching hour

black and hardened were its wings
fixed on its back like two locked springs
a mouth vacant with open pincer
with an odd click like meat-mincer

bamboozled by the circle of candles
the black anthropoid walked around in angles
traced the floor as if driven berserk
the peremptory beetle with fastidious legwork

a factoid known by a pitiful few
beetles are attracted to colour light blue
and when aided by a scented taper
are apt to go on a pre-dawn caper

i met him once
so long ago
seems like centuries
covered by snow

and beneath
the miles of ice
he's still there
from paradise

a place where rivers
and lakes join hands
and sing in joy
with trees on land

a place where music
and light combine
where multi-colours
radiate shine

a place where water
is made of wisdom
revealing order
unending kingdom

a place where waterfalls
gush forth bliss
speaking the secrets
of eternal kiss

a place where angels
sing like stars
where thoughts are sharp
like scimitars

where sun 'n venus
mars and moon
collaborate in one
infinite tune

aye, he's still there
i feel him still
but up above
on lonely hill

i live as madman
in drunken stupor
oblivious, blind,
to past or future

subsist without aim
a non sequitur
actions as child
with no genitor

one day, i'll wake,
i'll find him afresh,
let's hope, for my sake,
i'm still in this flesh

or else, i know,
it'll be too late
for there's no going back
once you've passed the gate.

moving mass morphed myopic
homogeneous heaving humanity
killed 'n culled in catastrophic
hatred, hostile enmity

six million souls pulled together,
stuffed into a devil's mouth
reached out from the nether
to quench unending drouth

red-brick nostrils belched black smoke
blood dripp'd from barbed fangs
in iron fist a throat did croak
emaciated body now lifeless hangs

still the cavern was not filled
still his hellfires burnt and grilled
till there was no man left breathing
save a mound o' skeletons wheezing

and 'neath the pile of thousand shoes,
'neath heaps of bodies, black and bruised,
'neath the filth, the stench'd refuse
earth wept wet for those lost Jews

a million cries in one tear
dropped into a yawning crevice
take your time to lend an ear
or else be part of that abyss

a million cries in one tear
that formed the oceans long ago
as men blind in life career
its waters rush to and fro

in its movement hides a sigh
a yen for haven long ago
when all was one, the heavens high
with dust and creatures down below

that ocean's tides, the ebb and flow,
is yearning for that status quo
can still be heard in your heart
so still a moment, be a part

of that oneness, spirit that's singing
proclaiming plainly, loud and clear
of those million cries still pinning
to join together in that One big tear.

~
Dishevelled he stood, unable to speak,
from years of abuse in youthful upkeep
the years of admonishment had taken their toll
reduced to obsequious, lugubrious soul

the once-happy boy, unable to opine,
or quip in humour, save garble and whine,
decades would pass before he'd undo
and jettison the harm taken years to accrue

now he stood dumb, bewildered and slow,
top ziggurat of abuse, debilitating blow,
still, gentle flower, a gem unscratched,
as new-borne babe, chick freshly hatched

unprimed, unready, for onslaught of world,
the cruel schadenfreude, the evil unfurled,
the juggernaut of malevolence, of intemperate hurt
that would crush gentle flower, dissolve into dirt.

sleep, my child,
drift upon the ether
in gentle mother's smile
as you rest beneath her

sleep, my child,
for there will come a day
when forces far from mild
will come out war to play

when the vicious and the terror
will tear each other apart
leaving nothing but a pallbearer
and a broken heart

till that day, my child, sleep
revel in your youth
dance among the woodbines' creep
the leaves of jagged tooth

amongst the mosses of spring and elves
sleep, my child, sleep,
for men will ever corrupt themselves
as the humble weep

and till the day when evil implodes
when all that's good survives
skip along the sleepy roads
where butterflies lead good lives

hide beneath the buttercup
for its shelter is more true
than all the falseness that's blown up
in world that waits for you

the bloom of a flower
nine months in coming
in heavenly shower
heavenly stunning

a new life in arms
celestial charms
life elixir
in innocent peer

feel immortality
shake hands with mortality
the ongoing chain
through birth of wee bairn

though memory's failing
red cheek's paling,
youth's gone a-sailing
libido's ailing

this newborn vitality
overrides mortality
its individuality
is G-d's spirituality.

"hi there, folks!
that's you at home!
i'm up on the oaks,
my place to roam.

to remember my stores
my memory matches yours
to hide all my nuts
best food for my guts

while you're lazing the autumn
i'm burying amounts awesome
though i forget where i put half
i find the rest, so don't laugh

i'm a squirrel, 'case you hadn't noticed,
though i always look so focused,
upbeat, sanguine, that's me all over,
love to frolic through grass 'n clover

so next time you spy an intelligent lookin' male
with winsome grin and bushy tail
hoppin' around or walkin' a strut
it's likely me, so throw me a nut!"

a flame, a light
longs to ignite
secret desire
one with its sire

pushed into darkness
happy and innocent
cried in the starkness
of soul imprisonment

forever a dance
whether to seek advance
to shine and speak
or remain shadow weak

to play hide-and-seek
with the loud and the crass
ignore public clique
to be tread like the grass

and through it attain
soul's secret desire
in earthly plane
be one with the Sire.

what does it feel like
to be victim of abuse?
pushed 'gainst ****
life-story to lose
not recognising self
one's own gravity
no floor 'neath one's feet
self-identity
sense of perception
up in the air
sense of connection
reduced to a scare
nothing positive
save other's narrative
forget meritorious,
you think no-one's worse,

trampled 'n suffocated,
stir-crazy, deflated,
lose desire to live
no goodness to give.
go tell your mother
your sister, your brother
no-one believes
what you go through
everyone's deceived
perhaps even you
all looks so nice
on the surface
jam-cake with ice
and lip-service
but there's little on earth
that's more bitter
than to be constant mirth
'n no strength to quit her
that's the story
of emotional abuse
i'd tell you more
but there's no real use.

tome of my life
with wrinkled page
torn at the sides
brown with age
thirty years
gone and flown
gone in tears
gone in moan

a tome trampled
by troubled feet
pages tangled
by hands of deceit
scrambled words
in blood-red stain
'cos no-one heard
the crying pain

though saints there are and holy men too
beware of the priest that bows too low
for his overt servility makes fool of you
as he treads upon unwary foe

for in his eyes, the layman and laic
are way beneath his dignity
just placed there to create mosaic
'gainst which to display his divinity

beware the affable smile and charm
the silken manners and finesse
for oft-times snake that seeks to harm
will in finery dress

he took the mike
became inspired
crowds hanging
on every word

his appetite spiked
'i'm being admired'
by looks wide-eyed
of human herd

as hypnotised,
mesmerised,
all statement accepted
without a question

thus voluble windbag
in adulation
believes own narrative,
i'm god of one nation.

wet eyes a-twinkle with unshed tears
from northern wind's raining spears
grazed silhouette of solitary deer
antlers branching as tree austere

then, a hind of tan and grey
tiptoed forth from underlay
followed close by calves to play
'pon the shadow'd bracken'd brae.

and as the deer midst berries bent
in sweet paradise of wet pine scent
in nature's naked, raw element,
sharp rustle was heard, clear, evident

"soft!", cried hart, "who goes there?"
all looked, still, statues a-scare,
"'tis but me", grinned the hare,
his nose a-twitching in the air.

"Well, welcome, then, my good ol' friend",
said he with nuzzle on nose'd front-end,
"I know I can on you depend
those sharp ears to apprehend"

"smallest hindrance to our meet convivial,
for sound though minor be not trivial,
thus we may enjoy our meal
as our young frolic by mother's heel."

does cycle start with autumn
the shedding of the trees
the dark 'n naked columns
bereft of nature's leaves?

does she start the year
depressing and of drear
robbing air of cheer
staining cheek with tear?

or does it start with winter
with biting freezing cold
like a naked sprinter
plunged in icy fold

is he the start of cycle
as men and boys go idol
the sleep of all things vital
in wait for life's revival?

or does it start in spring
with pink and purple blossom
the yellow daffodil
from mama earth's *****

does spring commence the year
with laughter and loud cheer
its promise ringing clear
of goodness very near?

or does the year with summer start
with boiling sun and ripening fruit
the filling of the apple-cart
the carrot and the radish-root?

tell me now, is it summer
that starts the sprint as a runner
that with loud shot from the gunner
blurs legs as wings of hummer?

indeed, does day with night begin
with all things dark and quiet,
to clear the air, to usher in
a new day's life and riot?

or does the night end the day
as matters draw to close
the sleep of night to melt away
all stress through sweet repose?

i ask in all sincerity
don't mean to be captious
i seek wisdom and clarity
where is the point of axis?

can you point to time
in day or in year a date
that marks the start or prime?
or is beginning to rejuvenate?

is in truth the year and day
a cycle everlasting
there be no start, or end decay?
this is what i'm asking

methinks the year with spring doth start
the genesis of all things
and like the spring, doth daylight mark
life's birth on ancient wings

his loving warmth enveloped my hand
his strong old veins soft to the touch
now that warmth is covered by sand
ephemeral memory, childhood crutch

why do people hurt others
what pleasure do they get?
why can't we all be more like brothers
not seek to harm beset?