BRUTALANIMUS

He was a brute, there is no denying that
A muscular giant, and violence as a reflex
Perceived weakness always was the trigger
His sense of pride couldn’t get any bigger
With biceps the size of most others’ necks
But in time, most of it would turn to fat

In some circles, he’s thought to be a hero
Striding about, forever flexing his muscles
Just eagerly waiting for a fight break out
Emerging triumphant after the first bout
Always so keen to join in all those tussles
Yet in terms of intellect, so close to zero

He seemed to like inflicting hurt and pain
But in every scrap it was always one sided
His being strong and ready to take the hit
Yet never seemed to flinch even a little bit
It was only by winning that he was guided
Ready to re-engage, over again and again

Despite a grin and a body as hard as steel
And impervious to all the blood and gore
They said he had a weakness, well hidden
Like a horse gone lame after being ridden
Underneath those leather boots he wore
Perhaps after all, he had an Achilles’ heel

BLUE IN GREEN

After a soft almost unassuming, start
The soft piano introduces gentle jazz
And brushes across snare’s white skin
Then the thin muted trumpet joins in
Culminating in ecstasy, or as good as
It began with brain but now it’s heart

The music slides slowly to a quiet end
Then, like a Phoenix rising from flame
The next section breathes and emerges
As if holding back from all of its urges
A chord is now struck, staking a claim
And the melody follows its own trend

Almost as a stumble on rocky ground
The bass has its moment of foundation
Then returns as a backdrop with a sigh
Sensing that last bar is soon due to die
Yet underneath it all, is a perturbation
Drawing us deeper into the final sound

LEFT AND RIGHT

I really feel that politics has regressed
Yet it never was much from the start
For each generation, the needle shifts
But policy clarification brings no gifts
It always exposes deeper societal rifts
More motivation for all to stand apart
Little chance that all will come to rest

It’s been lefties and now it’s the right
Not centrist, but out at the extremes
Could one now even call them wings
With all the media coverage it brings
And each unguarded statement stings
Reconcilliation is only in your dreams
But with a growing tendency to fight

Our tolerance appears to have receded
Popular anger is now so ready to erupt
Now it’s political correctness gone mad
No way to separate the good from bad
The best chance that revolution has had
Failing governments, one may interrupt
Bold leaders are always what we needed

In Cromwell’s day it was the Monarchy
Even these days, still with threat of war
Whether it’s Ukraine or the Middle East
One should try and recognise the beast
And all to give peace a chance, at least
History can claim it’s been seen before
It is a cycle, not one direction, you see

SORTED

What’s all this trash, I hear you mutter
A major clean-up is now way overdue
We all know that it’s time to de-clutter

Some good stuff here and ******* too
Sell it, throw it, or move it somewhere
We really need more space, that’s true

Some old items needing love and care
A few things not used for many years
Maybe others of which I’m not aware

No more dust now as air finally clears
And a sigh of relief when it’s all gone
It leaves empty space to fill, it appears

But this does feel a bit like a marathon
As such change is much to think upon

THE OTHER SIDE OF REGRET

Finally, the pain recedes
Regret has had its time
As vapour, it disappears
Yet smiling at the irony
As if it itself feels regret
That it leaves too early
And suffering now fades
Yet will be remembered
With all else having gone
And a bland life resumes

SONG OF THE OCEAN

It calls, and I can hear it even now
The ocean, so grey deep and cold
Its song, having a power over me
Joined by a chorus from every sea
A vast history of stories never told
Keen to share as the ages will allow

A strong beat from the rising swell
The crash of waves on every coast
And foam almost makes a melody
A herald of some strange harmony
Lyrics that whisper at the very most
But a haunting sound as all can tell

Verses in the to and fro of the tide
Voices of anxiety to be understood
From the depths, is its perturbation
Yet from many, hiding a frustration
To deliver a full concerto if it could
But must leave it sealed deep inside

DOWN AND DOWN

No surprise that emotions run deep
Down, down, to the cold ocean floor
But may not lie buried forever more
As they may rise to the surface again
The white foam, riding the dark swell
And eventually returning on the tide
Haunting the coast with the memory
Rarely to be dismissed and forgotten
Yet back on land it seeks depth again
Down and down, beneath the sands
To rest peacefully, at least for a while
Until it is awakened with joy or pain
Passion and fear the heart knows well