In twenty-four, the streets aflame
a tempest brewed, a nation’s shame.
Southport’s wounds still fresh and raw,
three children lost their lives, a flaw.
False whispers spread through cyberspace,
the stabber’s name, a twisted chase.
Muslim, seeker, both or none
the spark ignited, chaos spun.
England, torn by fear and hate,
far-right voices, venom’s weight.
Riots surged from Southport’s core,
a wildfire leaping, burning more.
Arson’s dance, a crimson waltz,
shops looted, streets in tumult’s pulse.
Police van torched, officers besieged,
a fractured nation, wounds unseized.
Islamophobia’s venom seeped,
racist fervour, hatred steeped.
Disinformation’s murky tide,
Russia’s whispers amplified.
Yet amidst the flames, a counterforce—
Stand Up to Racism, voices hoarse.
Anti-fascists, Muslims, too,
clashed with rioters, hearts askew.
In this fractured hour, we seek the light,
to mend the rifts, reclaim the night.
For England’s soul, a plea resounds:
heal the wounds, find common grounds.
I stand against the darkness,
where prejudice and anger collide.
My words, a beacon of empathy,
a bridge across the chasm wide.
For love knows no division,
no borders drawn by fear.
In unity, we find strength,
and hate dissolves when love is near.
So let us rise above the chaos,
embrace compassion’s flame.
Together, we’ll extinguish hate
and heal the wounds that bear our name.

There once was a mosquito named Jack,
Who bit in the small of my back.
I scratched and I swore,
As she flew out the door,
Leaving me with an itchy attack!

****** Mosquitos – Literally

My sister was washing her drive,
With soap and a hose, she’d strive.
But a splash from the spray,
Sent her hat far away,
And she laughed as she felt so alive!

In a peaceful room with candles aglow,
She works her magic, gentle and slow.
Her hands, like whispers, glide with grace,
Easing tension, finding the place.

With soothing oils, she starts her art,
A dance of fingers, a healer’s heart.
Knots unravel, stress takes flight,
In her touch, the world feels right.

She exfoliates with tender care,
Removing worries, layer by layer.
A scrub of salt, a touch so kind,
Leaving softness, and peace of mind.

Her presence calm, her spirit bright,
In her hands, the day turns light.
This lady masseuse, with skill so true,
Bringing comfort, renewing you.

The eternal mystery, where life’s journey finds its boundary. A passage from this earthly plane to realms unknown, where souls remain.

Death
In shadows deep, we contemplate,
the final breath, the closing gate.
Yet in this stillness, hope does bloom,
the promise of life beyond the tomb.

Grief
A tempest in the heart,
tears that flow when loved ones depart.
Memories etched upon our souls,
their laughter, touch, and whispered goals.

Faith
A beacon in the night,
guides us through the darkest fight.
For death is but a transient shore,
and love endures forevermore.

So let us honour those who’ve flown,
their legacy in stories sown,
and as we weep, we also find,
that death is not the end of mind.

For in the vastness of the skies,
their spirits dance, forever rise.
And though we mourn, we also know,
they’ve found a home where angels go.

In the hush of night, when stars align,
we sense a peace that's near divine.
For death's not just an end, but start,
a journey of the eternal heart.

In every tear, a love's embrace,
In every fear, a hidden grace.
For those we've lost, we'll meet again,
in realms of light, without the pain.