there was an old man from Calcutta
who talked as he ate bread 'n butter
but caused a combustion
when oration waxed fustian
and he started to cough and to splutter

As his cough started getting much worse,
he started to rant and to curse,
his face turned red
'fore he dropped dead
and his bread came up in reverse

then his breath came back all-a-flutter
and he sat up and started to mutter
from now on i declare
in pronouncement and swear
i'll not eat any bread with my butter

So this poor old man from Calcutta
would just eat his butter with butter
till he became overweight
and hit Pearly Gate
that poor fat old man from Calcutta

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.

I'll paint a canvas today, I said,
A canvas with my tears,
I'll mix the water with my blood,
I'll give voice to my fears.

Leering voices, sneering faces,
I don't know how to stand strong,
I buckle under pressure,
Yet I know the right from wrong.

I look around with despair,
I know not what will be,
I lift my hands up in the air,
I cry, 'Do not see'.

Do not look down at humanity,
Look not at what it's become,
The violence, the inhumanity,
The soul quite numb and dumb.

But see the little sparks of good,
The hope, the kindness, the longing,
See the suffering, little flame,
The bewilderment, pain and calling.

Give strength to the lame and weak,
Salvation to the few,
Let Light and Grace fill the world,
Let us all see You.

'Twas the day when heart slammed shut in opening new door,
'twas the day the children cried, 'our father is no more',
'twas the day when he succumbed to other world explore,
'twas the day the nightingale sang in reaching the seashore.

On metal wings he opened flight on way of no return,
In silent song his ascent grew on path of soulful yearn,
Upon the track blazed by tears, of joy and taciturn,
To reap the years, as preachers teach, 'sow 'n you shall earn'.

But lo, the monsters dark, of shadows black engulf,
Betwixt the light and soul, a chasm and a gulf,
The energies created in acts of grave impulse
As heavenly court disown, soul in repulse.

But as the many tongues of fire reach out to ensnare,
words of pain, as English rain, drench and clear the air,
arrow o' troubled oppression, arrows of despair,
shoot the many headed devil in hellish nightmare.

And from the blackness there arises secret nest so bright,
An unknown treasure of unknown deeds, curious crown of light,
Scarce materials of gems and jewels encrusted with delight
The goodness sown, the deeds that breed, when done out of sight.

And so, ethereal winged bird opens her beak in bliss,
In rapture and in joy she sails towards the heavenly kiss,
as cries of wolves surround her, bidding her dismiss
unparalleled star, a million suns, her soul's genesis

Far away from world's metropolis
a princess ambled through opulent bliss
of father's palace, grounds and orchards,
raised her eyes to see four birds

birds of fairest plume and tail
from vantage scanned the hills and dale
forests green, pools deep blue
her father's estate as they flew through

'beasts of feather, light of wing,
speak to me in tune and sing
of your travels, your flighty wanderings
in yonder world and teach me things.'

'teach me how they churn the butter,
those who live 'yond palace wall,
tell me, set my heart a-flutter,
teach me things, great or small.'

'for i yearn to venture hence,
far from rubies and emeralds,
the smoke of myrrh, of frankincense,
the liveried courtiers, serfs and heralds'

'of father's court, though i cherish,
and love him with my heart and soul,
i long to 'scape from the garish
from the ordinance and rigmarole'.

the birds, they heard her royal cry
and swooped her up into the sky,
sailed with her through the air,
each one wing for regal chair.

away from the kingly palace,
it's velvet drapes and plush red carpet,
silver trinkets and gold gem'd chalice,
onto an edge of a village-market

Placed her gently on brown'd grass,
on scattered remnants of late repast,
paper-waste and broken glass
as two drawn peasants hurried past

Midst the noise and revelry
o' drunken soldiers and cavalry
shouting out in raucous tune
strewn on steps o' stones ill-hewn

'oh take me back to father's place'
cried the princess, tears on face
staining delicate skin and features
as she sought the feathered creatures

but they had gone and wouldn't return
for twoscore months and more,
the princess was to stay and learn
to live with longing at her core

for her father, so far from her,
for that rare 'n subtle existence
vestige of love to sustain her
as she mourned the time 'n distance

as she counted days and weeks
when once again she'd reunite
with mother's kiss on her cheeks
with father's love, her own birthright,

would berate her on her lateness,
would embrace her in their arms,
tell her of her untold greatness,
tell her of their love, her charm

tell her that no matter where,
in deepest darkness or noise of fair,
in truth her father was sovereign supreme
though unseen, he's with you there.

the problem with facebook
or social media
it's voiceless, like a book,
tomes of academia

arid and dry,
blunt and dead,
like burnt pie
or stale bread.

words in a message
cannot emotions assuage,
convey tone or gauge
happiness or rage

if what one smile can do
cannot a thousand words
if one vocal 'thank-you'
like the dawn songbirds

warms the heart,
and engages senses,
as a voice imparts
the feel in sentences

a poet with his prose
seeks to give over
the emotion transpose
from writer to reader

with art and dexterity
he crafts his rhyme,
capturing mirth, sincerity,
sound patterned in time.

what can the brief answer
hope to convey
a deft one-liner
chips from expressaway?

a click here, a 'like' there,
humanity at the mercy of cheap software,
the whims of the callous and apathetic
making your mood, creating fetich.

oh for the warmth of father and son
the ripple of water in afternoon sun
the spider in waiting in web newly spun
the waft and aroma of caramel bun

life's way deeper than a smiling emoticon
facebook likes or poem voted on
don't let the others rule your life
do what you love and give all a fife.

there once was a lad from Hungary
who was a dab hand at trumpery
oft a quote
that never was wrote
he made into hagiography

one day he went too far
and quoted his wife's mama
as saying her daughter
next to the altar
looked like a black Madonna

said in-law to him that's true
but it wasn't her, 'twas you,
in your tuxedo
and French libido
like balsam o' peru

if i hadn't known 'twas you
i'd have thought you an evolving gnu,
so stop writing lies
or you'll get a surprise
as my daughter wishes you adieu

there was a time when colours ran deep,
when men lived in purpose,
when myth was more than little Bo Peep,
or a child's dinosaurumpus.

a time when matters mannered,
reflection of inner core,
before the world was shattered
and with it, the enchanted door

the ship has lost its anchor,
the captain's not to be seen,
sailors - blind - flounder,
humanity's in guillotine.

Horris:
When I was a lad I started a term
As junior clerk to a consultancy firm
But after four days, could work no more
So when no-one looked, I skipped to the door.

Chorus:
When no-one looked, he skipped to the door.

Horris:
I skipped that day with a step so free
That now I am Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Chorus:
He skipped that day with a step so free
That now he is Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Horris:
Through high connections of my family
I was given the post o' graduate trainee.
I wrote an article inventing a quote
And attributed it in earnest to a historian of note.

Chorus:
He attributed it in earnest to a historian of note.

Horris:
I lied so well, they rewarded me,
That now I am Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Chorus:
He lied so well, they rewarded he,
That now he is the Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Horris:
In being such a *** I made such a name
That a leading writer I soon became;
I wore scuffed collars and a hand-me-down suit
For the pass examination at the Institute.

Chorus:
For the pass examination at the Institute.

Horris:
That pass examination did so well for me,
That now I'm Prime Minister of this country!

Chorus:
That pass examination did so well for he,
That now he is Prime Minister of this country!

Horris:
Of journalism I acquired such a grip
That they took me into the partnership.
I used expletives when i got angry
And was accused of racism 'n bigotry

Chorus:
He was accused of racism 'n bigotry.

Horris:
But that kind of tree so suited me,
That now I am the Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Chorus:
That kind of tree so suited he,
That now he's the Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Horris:
I grew so rich that I was bent
to become a member of Parliament.
I was always schmoozing for my party's call,
And never thought of thinking for myself at all.

Chorus:
He never thought of thinking for himself at all.

Horris:
I thought so little, they rewarded me
By making me Head of the Conservative Party!

Chorus:
He thought so little, they rewarded he
By making him Head of the Conservative Party!

Horris:
Now young and old, whoever you may be,
If you want to rise to the top of the tree,
[If your soul isn't fettered to keeping to the facts,
'N you're prepared to engage in questionable acts,]
If you've got few morals and can always keep your cool.
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule.

Chorus:
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule.

Horris:
Just ride roughshod over all 'n sundry,
And you all may be Heads of the Queen's Tories!

Chorus:
Just ride roughshod over all 'n sundry,
And you all may be Heads of the Queen's Tories!

the hanging rope beckons again
as it sways from ceiling
the empty nothingness of dangling chain
allure most appealing

to and fro oblivion
swings as giant pendulum
its tempting vacant meridian
mocks me with its rhythm

proffers an out from jeer, contempt,
escape from false pretence
escape from moral turpitude
that glistens as a ****.

glistens 'n shines, 'n sickens the mind,
'n turns the innocent blind,
escape that makes the loop enticing
a circle so inviting

step up to me it whispers
feel my tight embrace
forget the world of twisters
let go of cursed chase

what type o' napkins when we're wed?
how about smarties or currants in bread?
hard drinks selection with buffet-spread?

pull the plastic over his head

what kind of flowers in my hair?
white-pink blooms o'er bridal chair?
what sort o' gown shall i wear?

push him harder, make sure there's no air

how about music in the yard?
[my cousin says poetry like a bard]
and name-places written on gilt-edged card?

he's struggling, push him hard

maybe a barbecue too, meat-on-the-grill,
aromatic salmon, seasoned with dill
let people eat what they want till their fill

that's seven minutes, he's finally still

and a milk side-dish, fish in lemon butter,
[the thought of it makes my heart flutter!]
and cucumber sandwiches with peanut butter

it's sawing-time, pass the electric cutter

we need plenty of drink to give extra zap
make sure the chairs have good nap
don't want them feeling like burlap

we'll put the pieces in plastic wrap

for the colour scheme, how about blue?
with a touch of violet and indigo hue?
want everything perfect for me and for you

this thigh is huge, cut it in two

i think we can rely on the Saudi sun
for the feast of the wedding, and all the fun
With Allah's grace, His will be done

burn it all, that's him done.

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.

the throbbing music beat my heart
making numb my ears
the noise it shook my nerves apart
but i faced up to my fears

i'd stocked up earlier on ***** 'n drugs
got my mind sedated
protected sound with two ear-plugs
felt, well, insulated

of course i sensed the adrenalin surge
as i mounted the hall-steps
but i disregarded the muted urge
ignored the flex of biceps

hiding behind mask on face
with windows wintered over
i entered the commodious space
and felt like interloper

then i spied the smarmy singer
voice screaming out aloud
grinding hips like shameless *******
galvanizing dancing crowd

i watched the people dropping out
like flies one by one
distaste plastered on their pout
saying, clearly, "I'm done!".

I wondered why they don't the tout
ostracize or throw in foyer
why do they put up with the lout
'n worse still, give him his pay?

he's got showmanship
i'll give him that
but i'd rather skip
his constant ****.

If fomites can spread disease
through bacteria and virus
i'd say he's spreads worse dis-ease
gives headaches worse than sinus!

i'd wandered lonely by the stream
a stream that passed me by
lived my life as in a dream
while others climbed on high

i'd tried to tread my own path
but soon got led astray
by the whisper, by the laugh,
by the waggish wit at play

now that stream's become a trickle
now it mocks with evil glee
as it bends into a sickle
as it glints and winks at me.

he leant down and tousled the hair
of young son, unaware
of father towering high above
showering him with love, with love

preoccupied, boy didn't react
to paternal act of love
so father's hand made fresh contact,
and gave said son a loving shove

till finally, he lifted his eyes,
and looking up he saw the skies
there he recognised the wondrous wise
sparkling tenderness of father's eyes

there he found his father's smile
sweeter than angelic beguile
father saying, 'its been a while,
let's sit together and reconcile'.

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

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.

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

'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.

Will e'er that wave be seen again,
royalty in the flesh,
duty coursing in blue blood vein,
eyes smiling, ever fresh?

did ever loyalty to a nation
better to its god coalesce
than in this woman of higher station,
impeccable manners and dress?

through constant batter from the press
through broadside and invective
never ever gave in to stress
never lost perspective

never bent before harasses
laconic maligning from guys 'n lasses
unkind comments from the masses
as they peered through vergrößern glasses

flagship to her people
a tower and a steeple
stood ramrod straight as maypole
shining love rays from a sun-soul

now the fluttering flag's at half-mast
as she's lowered into ground
as the thousands rally past
as her son is newly crowned

exponent of her christian faith,
substantive, positive hope
now pure essence, elusive wraith,
gone in swift elope

Never again will we see that wave,
so true and fast and pure.
for duty now waves from the grave
on stone for e'ermore.

i stand before You
lift my eyes
and you tie my head
unto the skies

but men who hide
their eyes from you
have no guide
inkling or clue

of why they're above
the beast on four
why you might love
your world evermore

A wizard from Tunbridge Wells
made matzoh with his spells
but instead of water
he added his daughter
and couldn't get rid of the smells

so this wicked 'un from Tunbridge
Decided to take umbrage
at his lack of sense
at his daughter's expense
'N fell into an apoplectic rage

He ranted and raved with such yells
the snails took refuge in their shells
till he jumped in the bray
of his daughter's fray
the old wizard from Tunbridge Wells

i'm writing 'gain 'bout thoughts suicidal
because that is how i feel
and to ** to any gadfly's bridle
at my chance to heal

so here we go with swishing black
swirling round my head
caused by constant onslaught attack
an inner child's been fed

since age fourteen i've been crying
inside cupboards, under table
and when my outer persona's lying
inside i'm feces in a stable

'be happy', 'smile more',
they said to me as teenager,
as if the superficial rapport
could be a sudden changer

arrows shoot with deadly aim
laughter finds its mark
and though i don't show any pain
inside it's dead and dark

i'll give a sigh and plod on again
and hope for brighter time
though inside it feels the constant rain
belies all pantomime.

and why do i write this here?
because i'm a social being
i need sometimes to shed a tear
and feel there's someone seeing

tick-tock, tick-tock,
life goes by, it doesn't stop,
tick-tock, tick-tock,
a second of eternity on universe clock

tick-tock, tick-tack,
grab each moment, it won't come back,
tick-tock, tock-tick,
time runs out, all too quick

there's a heartbeat in a second
eternity in a moment
time lives till he's beckon'd
to surrender his endowment

i carved my name into the wood
but the wood was rotten
within a year there was nothing left
save a memoir forgotten

When fixes don't seem possible
'n problems appear insolvable,
just shine your light as best you can
and you'll see a little miracle

your inner brokenness gets healed
as shadow to sun must yield,
for from within, shines spark of Man
your infinite soul revealed

To live,
Or not,
that is the question:

Is it better to suffer,
as rail-car buffer,
the hurt and harrows,
slings and arrows,
of life?

Or to stand akimbo,
the soul, closed window,
by swallowing pills
take arms against kills,
emancipation
through medication,
Is that life?
Or death?

To sleep away the heart-ache that flesh is heir to,
to dull with chemicals, and wear one's heart as Hollywood hairdo,
is that a consummation devoutly to be wish'd?

or to feel the whips of time,
the scorns of human grime,
the blood that's shaken from heart receiving fist?

the unnatural pantomime
of *******, predatory crime,
be pounded into dust as worthless grist?

To live the oppressor's wrong,
but yet to hear heaven's song,
to suffer the spurn of love,
but free to scale the worlds above,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
experience overwhelm of nerves and strife,
but to feel the needle and face it as a man?

To live,
Or not,
Is that a question?

the world
a door
to be opened

open the door,
fill reality
with light

it's dark down here
limitations
shadows
annoyance

it's light up there
illumine the darkness

the light is me
is you
transform the world

there were maggots in the wood
that swarmed and crawled as maggots should
bark beetle and grey wood-louse
that'd made in beam their home and house

around that wood so rotten fair
was gilt and gold of glint and glare
that onlooker could only stare
and to his friends so declare:

'beauteous is yonder beam
of gold and auburn sunshine gleam'
for little did he know or dream
of rottenness that vermin teem'd

but hidden 'hind that wood o' canker
was wood so solid as steel of anchor
it had but no coat veneer
looked quite drab and dry and drear

no paint nor precious metal
did hide its strong 'n sturdy fettle
its pure wooden essence
provided its inner luminescence

so when next you spy the gentle bow,
the urbane polish and sweet 'hello',
don't be fooled to say 'wow',
not all is good that bears a glow.

manners maketh not a man,
though they may add to pleasantness,
inside can lie a trashing-can
though outside all is eloquence

it's the acts 'n speech 'n honesty
that make a true man's worth,
they give the soul its modesty,
the true gold on this earth.

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.

We wandered up the mountain-side
me and a mate of mine,
though hard-going, we kept our stride,
managing just fine

but lo, the weather, it weren't our friend,
surrounded the hills with mist,
so to our steps we had to tend,
in case a step we missed

Surreal was our surrounding,
wrapped by whitest blanket,
sight of ours confounding,
yet bow we did 'n thank it

for there is beauty in the unusual,
albeit not what we wanted,
for it made for the delusional,
as if the fells were haunted

well, on this hike that I tell of,
on place of hardest rock,
in order that i not fall off,
i slid down on me buttock.

and as extra care was needed there,
i dropped my rucksack down
on plateau beneath rock-stair
that i shouldn't break me crown

and what do you think happened next,
just wait until i tell you,
for it made my mate be mighty vexed
and caused a ballyhoo

said rucksack with his camera 'n drone
of almost two thousand quid
it started rolling off the stone
and down the scree it slid

over 'n over it somersaulted
like an egg omelette,
and i tell ye, as it vaulted,
my son, i did so fret

to my luck, there was little harm done
to his precious dear contents,
to his drone was damage none,
but his camera had glass indents

it'll cost him three hundred ton
to fix that iPod good
but what else should I have done?
I did the best I could

what think you, was this aleatory?
should I pay up all the same?
what say you of my story,
am I the one to blame?

Mind's a fog,
Mud-fill'd bog,
Words dropping,
Then stopping.

Round in a maze,
Brain a-craze,
Dithering haze,
Maybe a faze?

Pass some coffee,
Still the drossy,
Open-eyed zombie,
Trying to work.

tweet goes the bird
cow follows herd
vulture feeds on dead
lice **** blood from head

man alone boasts
i rule from coast to coast
makes hero out of ghosts
proclaims he's king of hosts

cultured and accomplished,
diction clear 'n polished,
superior, none like me,
save aliens, likely likely

i'll splash millions exploring mars
discover planets and more stars
shout into space for all i'm worth
as millions suffer here on earth

because i'm intelligent and so caring
and life is all about giving and sharing
so i'll dump my refuse on some backward land
and when they cry, i'll lend them a hand

i'd never do anything at someone's expense,
whatever i do makes absolute sense,
so let's get on with the pretence
and speak up loud in man's defence

ruled by baboons
governed by a goon
******* by buffoons
every - - - - - - - day!

and if we fume or cuss
fulminate or fuss
they won't talk or discuss
but this is what they say:

Tweet tweet, shush shush,
now now, come come!

Sinking, drifting out so far
How I wonder where you are
Once a world that aimed so high
Now curled up and ready to die
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are

There once was a rare flower
A bloom that flourished in shade
Few could see its power
And that's how it might have stayed

For its planter derived pleasure
From floweret's love for obscurity
And as a golden treasure
Delighted in the bud's soft purity

but within the perennial's gene
there was a cancerous spot
a desire to be known as queen
to be recognised and not forgot

so there came a well-meaning person
who beheld the bloom's beauty
and opened it up to light and sun
thinking he was doing his duty

he wished all to benefit from its sweetness
all be blest by its aroma
for he'd not appreciated its discreetness
true secret of its persona

for the secret of its pulchritude
of its grace and its allure
was its modesty in its attitude
which kept it chaste and good and pure

and so the flower that once was
a bloom of rarefied scent
withered because of one faux-pas
and its own malcontent.

many a winter and summer passed
since the flower had stopped blooming
as by-and-by it became overcast
other foliage, it subsuming

but slowly within the darkness again
it awakened and started thriving
this time it'd learnt to contain
detrimental want and driving

to let its nature bloom 'n flourish
while none knew its charm 'n grace
and its concealment would it nourish
in its small secluded place

for there are souls destined 'n made
to act as king or queen or ruler
whilst others must act within the shade
'n thus know their loving Jeweller

As car must have a steering wheel
an axle, brakes and engine
as a person has a heart and a heel
a brain, veins and tendon

so the world of souls contains
the hidden and the visible
and this world has many planes
of Unity indivisible

each soul is perfect and complete,
with radiance incomparable
and no soul need with other compete
for its uniqueness irreplaceable.