I’m thinking now of my childhood
Of Dinky toys and a bright shiny trike
I travelled for miles going nowhere
On that beautiful three-wheeled bike.
It even had a boot on the back
Like a bread bin between the wheels
That I used to fill with books and toys
Only opened to best friend’s appeals.
The bike was bright red and I loved it
I raced round on it every day
Until that time when I was just too big
And the bike was taken away.
I missed that old red tricycle
It had been my companion for a while
But the two-wheeled cycle that Dad got
Soon turned my lips up in a smile.
It was a second-hand bike and quite grown-up
Hand-painted the darkest maroon
And I rode it for miles, this time with my dad
But it’s fun-giving days went too soon.
My next bike was blue, and a racer
Derailleur gears numbered ten
I wanted to ride out again with my dad
But he’d cycled his last before then.
My dad rode a bike for the whole of his life
Yet he never reached fifty-three
When I’m on a bike now, cycling along
I think of him riding with me.

©Joe Wilson – Riding a bike with my dad…2015

I want a swing
To sway between
The moon and the earth,
A hammock to lie
Between Canis
Major and minor,
Let me row a boat
One paddle
Through
The milky way,
Let me pedal
Across the galaxy
On a starship enterprise trike,
I want to race
A shooting star,
Whittle meteoroids
Into beautiful
Paper weights,
Surf the rings
Of Saturn,
And play
Laser tag amidst
All the space debris,
Let me be astronaut...

APAD13 010 - © okpoet

A once-loved trike
Sits alone in a corner of the garden.
A basket full
Of rotting flowers, long forgotten.
Pedals unused
Yielding to rust,
A child, slightly older,
No longer fussed

And I'll try to delay what you make of my life
But I don't want your way,
I want mine

I’m lying, I’m so very far from fine

I don’t believe, in talking just to breathe

I’m here to give you words as tools that can destroy my heart

He thinks that faith might be dead
Nothing kills a man faster than his own head

*** nobody knows he’s alive

I want to crack the door so I can just fall out

I begin to understand why god died

And I want everyone to know that I am half a soul divided

Don’t be afraid. We’re going home.

We had to steal him from his fate so he could see another day

Am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead?

Where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone

We pick songs to sing remind us of things that nobody cares about and honestly we’re probably more suicidal than ever now

If we wake up every morning and decide what we believe we can take apart our very heart and the light will set us free

Please don’t be afraid of what your soul is really thinking

It’s time you pick your battle, and I promise you this is mine.

I know what you think in the morning when the sun shines on the ground

But there’s hope out the window, so that’s where we’ll go, let’s go outside and all join hands but until then you’ll never understand

Simply suggest my chest in this confused music it’s obviously best for them to turn their guns to a fist.

I’m taking over my body back in control no more shorty

I fought it a lot and it seems a lot like flesh is all I got not anymore

You should take my life, you should take my soul

You are surrounding all my surroundings

Fight it. Take the pain ignite it tie a noose around your mind loose enough to breathe fine and tie it to a tree tell it “you belong to me this ain’t a noose this is a leash and I have news for you, you must obey me”

It ain’t the speakers that bump hearts, it’s our hearts that make the beat.

I’m pleading please oh please, on my knees repeatedly asking why it’s got to be like this, is this living free?

Some see a pen I see a harpoon.

I’ll stay awake, *** the dark’s not taking prisoners tonight

I don’t hear those voices calling, I must’ve kicked them out

Why won’t you let me go? Do I threaten all your plans I’m insignificant

I’m afraid to tell you who I adore, won’t tell you who I’m singing towards

I know it’s dire my time today

Somebody stole my car radio and now I just sit in silence

Sometimes quiet is violent
I find it hard to hide it my pride is no longer inside it’s on my sleeve my skin will scream

There’s no hiding for me I’m forced to deal with what I feel there is no distraction to mask what is real

This time there’s no sound to hide behind

I find over the course of our human existence one thing consists of consistence and it’s that we’re all battling fear oh dear I don’t know if we know why we’re here oh my too deep please stop thinking

Peace will win and fear will lose

There’s faith and there’s sleep we need to pick one please because faith is to be awake and to be awake is for us to think and for us to think is to be alive and I will try with every rhyme to come across like I am dying to let you know you need to try to think.

I don’t wanna be heard, I wanna be listened to.

I scream you scream we all scream *** we’re terrified of what’s around the corner.

My brain has given up, white flags are hoisted

The stomach in my brain throws up onto the page

I don’t understand why everything I adore takes a different form when I squint my eyes have you ever done that when you squint your eyes and your eyelashes make it look a little bit right and then when just enough light comes from just the right side and you find you’re not who you’re supposed to be?
This is not what you’re supposed to see, please, remember me I am supposed to be king of kingdom, swinging on a swing, something happened in my imagination the situations becoming dire, my treehouse is on fire, and for some reason I smell gas on my hands. This is not what I had planned.

We’ll be on fire

We have romantic fantasies about what dying truly is

We all know somebody who knows somebody who’s doing great, I know some people who know people who are flying straight, but I’ll kindly enter into rooms of depression, while ceiling fans and idle hands will take my life again.

But I would rather sing a song, for the eyes to sing along

I’m holding onto what I know and what I know I must let go

Redemption’s not that far and darkness is going down.

Nobody thinks what I think, nobody dreams when they blink, think things on the brink of blasphemy I’m my own shrink think things are after me, my catastrophe.

Are you searching for purpose? Then write something and it might be worthless, paint something yeah it might be wordless pointless curses nonsense verses you’ll see purpose start to surface, no one else is dealing with your demons meaning maybe defeating them could be the beginning of your meaning friend.

They will play a game and say they know what you’re doing through and I tried to come up with an artistic way to say they don’t know you and neither do I

I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow

They will not take you down they will not cast you out

Dear friends here we are again pretending to understand how you think your world is ending sendin signals and red flags in waves it’s hard to tell the difference between blood and water these days
I pray that one day you see
The only difference between life and dying
Is one is trying that’s all we’re gonna do so try to love me and I’ll try to save you

Won’t you stay alive I’ll take you on a ride, I will make you believe you are lovely

Your redemption won’t grow stale, we are now just setting sail, on the seas of what we fear, treason now is growing near to me, I’m coming clean, god hit me straight on.

I know, where you stand, silent in the trees
And that’s where I am

Why won’t you speak, where I happen to Be? Silent in the trees standing cowardly
I can feel your breath, I can feel my death.
I want to know you, I want to see, I want to say, hello

I don’t believe my ears and I’m scared of my own head.

Clearly I am dying, dearly I am writing

I’m lying cause I say I am fine

I’m so sorry but I do believe that all my bridges I have burned and I’ve earned a policy of no return

Today, day, I want to go away, way

I put my sock on my feet, just so that my soul would fall through my toes, And I walk through my door, just so I don’t fall through the floor.

So bold and fearless in the risks we take, laugh in the face of gravity as it’s laws we’d break, on trampolines so high, we reach for the sky, but I do not look up anymore and I don’t know why.

I take my face off at the door because I don’t know who they will take me for

I’m the son of all I’ve done

When we’re done we’ll all have made something new under the sun

“Where’s your home? Where are you going and why are you here?”

I will tell you what I can, but your mind will take a stand, I sing of a greater love, let me know when you’ve had enough.

When your father turns to stone will you take care of me?
I will make you queen of everything you see, I’ll put you on the map, I’ll cure you of disease.
Let’s say we up and left this town and turned our future upside down, we’ll make pretend that you and me, lived ever after happily.

Since we know that dreams are dead, and life turns plans up on their head, I will plan to be a *** so I just might become someone.

Taking my only, friend I know. He leaves a lot. His name is Hope.

I’m never what I like, I’m double sided

*** I’m twisted up, I’m twisted up, inside my mind

When the sun is climbing window sills, and the silver lining rides the hills, I will be safe, for one whole day, until the sun makes the hills it’s grave.

By the time the nights wears off, the dust is down, and shadows burn, I will rise and stand my ground, waiting for, the nights return.

I do not know why I would go in front of you na shied my soul, *** you’re the only one who knows it

I don’t know why I think I could lie, *** there’s a screen on my chest

I’m standing in front of you I’m trying to be so cool, everything together trying to be so cool.

I can’t see past my own nose I’m seeing everything in slow-mo look out below crashing down to the ground

A train from the sky locomotive my motives are insane
My flows not great okay, I conversation with people who know if I flow on a song I’ll get no radio play.
While you’re doing fine, there’s some people and I, who have a really tough time getting through this life so excuse us while we sing to the sky.

We’re broken people

I can’t take them on my own, my own, pa, I’m not the one you know, you know

Don’t wanna give you all my demons, you’ll have to watch me struggle, from several rooms away. But tonight, I need you to stay.

I am up against the wall, the wall, pa, I hear them coming down, the hall.

I want to drive away in the night, headlights call my name.
I’ll never be, be what you see inside, you say I’m not alone but I am petrified.

Is close the closest star? You just feel twice as far.

I’m so afraid, of what you have to say, cause I am quiet now, and silence gives you space

And the wrists of my mind had the bleeding lines that remind me of all the times I have committed

What kids are doing they’re killing themselves, they feel they have no control of their prisoner cells, and if you’re one of them then you’re one of me

Now the night is coming to an end

The sun will rise and we will try again

Stay alive, stay alive, for me.
You will die, but now your life is free take pride in what is sure to die.

I will fear the night again.

I hope I’m not my only friend.

There’s an infestation in my minds imagination

This not rap this is not hip hop, just another attempt to make the voices stop

This doesn’t mean I lost my dream it’s just right now I got a really crazy mind to clean.

Can you save my heavydirtysoul, for me?

If I didn’t know better I’d guess you’re all already dead

You’ve got one time to figure it out, one time to twist and one time to shout, one time to think and I say we start now

Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit

I wish I found some better sounds no ones ever heard, I wish I had a better voice to sing some better words, I wish I found some chords in an order that is new, I wish I didn’t have to rhyme every time I sang

Now I’m insecure, and I care what people think.

Sometimes a certain smell will take me back to when I was young, how come I’m never able to identify where it’s coming from?

It would remind us of when nothing really mattered out of student loans and treehouse homes we all would take the ladder.

We used to play pretend give eachother different names

Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face saying wake up you need to make money

I wanna stay in the sun where I find, I know it’s hard sometimes

I think about the end just way too much, but it’s fun to fantasize

I won’t fall in love with falling

I’d die for you that’s easy to say we have a list of people that we would take a bullet for them a bullet for you

Metaphorically I’m the man but literally I don’t know what I’d do, that’s harder to do even harder to say when you know it’s not true and it’s harder to write when you know that tonight there were people back home that tried talking to you

All these questions they’re for real like who would you live for who would you die for and would you ever ****?

I’ve been thinking too much, help me

I’m fairly local, ive been around, ive seen the streets you’re walking down

I’m evil to the core, what I shouldn’t do I will, they say I’m emotional, what I wanna save I’ll ****. Is that who I truly am? I truly don’t have a chance. Tomorrow I keep a beat. And repeat yesterday’s dance

I’m not evil to the core, what I shouldn’t do I will fight. I know I’m emotional, what I wanna save I will try. I know who I truly am. I truly do have a chance. Tomorrow I’ll switch the beat, to avoid yesterday’s dance

It’s the few the proud and the emotional

The world around us is burning but we’re so cold

Our minds change on what we think is good, I wasn’t raised in the hood, but I know a thing or two about pain, and darkness, if wasn’t for the music I don’t know how I would’ve fought this.

I’m in constant confrontation with what I want and what is poppin in the industry it seems to me that singles on the radio are currency my creativities only free when I’m playing shows.

Who would you live and die for on that list but the problem is there’s another list that exists and none really wants to think about this forget sanity, forget salary, forget vanity my morality, if you get in between someone I love and me, you’re gonna feel the heat of my calvary

He cranked out those dismal chords, and his four walls declared him insane.

I found my way right time wrong place

I know my souls freezing hells hot for good reason

But I’m not good with directions and I hide behind my mouth, I’m a pro at imperfections and I’m best friends with my doubt.
Now that minds out and now I hear clear and loud I’m thinking wow I probably should’ve stayed inside my house

I don’t know if this song is a surrender or a revel. I don’t know if this one is about me or the devil.

Help me out, my friends and I we got a lotta problems

Wanted to be a better brother better son wanted to be a better advisory to the evil I have done I have none to show to the one I love

Polarize is taking your disguises sepersting then splitting them up from wrong and right, is deciding when to die and deciding when to fight

I don’t know where you are, you’ll have to come and find me

We have all learned to **** our dreams

I need to know that when I fail you’ll still be here. *** if you stick around I’ll sing you pretty sounds and well make money selling your hair

I don’t care what’s in your hair I just wanna know what’s on your mind.
I used to say I wanna die before I’m old but because if you I might think twice.

What if my dream does not happen. Would I just change what I’ve told my friend. Don’t want to know who I would be. When I wake from a dreamers sleep

Scared of my own image. Scared of my own immaturity

Fear might be the death of me. Fear leads to anxiety. Don’t know what’s inside of me.

Even when I doubt you, I’m no good without you.

Temperature is dropping, I’m not sure if I can see this ever stopping. Shaking hands with the dark parts of my thought no, you ar wall that I’ve got no.

I want the markings made on my skin, to mean something to me again.

Hope you haven’t left without me, please

Who I am today is worse than other times. You don’t know what I’ve done.

Why I’m in denial that they tried the suicidal session. Please use discretion when you’re messing with the message man, these lyrics aren’t for everyone only few understand.

Hope you’re dead *** how could you sleep at a time like this

I’m the kinda guy who takes every moment he knows he confided in
Music to use for others to use it

Life is up here but you comment below And the comments below will become
Common motivation to promote
Your shows next episode
So your brain know to keep going
Even though hope
Is far from this moment but you and I know it gets better when mornin finally reads it’s head, together we’re losers remember the future remember the mornin is when night is dead.

My people singing

Be the one to take my soul and make it undone

Be the one to take me home and show me the sun

Where we’re from, there’s no sun, our hometowns in the dark
Where we’re from, we’re no one, our hometowns in the dark.

We don’t know, how to put back the power in our soul

We don’t know, where to find, what once was in our bones.

I look outside and see a whole world better off without me in it trying to transform it.

Listen I know, this ones a contradiction because of how happy it sounds. But the lyrics are so down.
It’s ok though, because it represents Wait better yet it is, who I feel I am right now.

I’m a goner, somebody catch my breath

I wanna be known, by you.

Though I’m weak, and beaten down. I’ll slip away, into this sound.
The ghost of you is close to me.
I’m inside out, you’re underneath.

I’ve got two faces, blurry’s the one I’m not

I need your help to take him out

Don’t let me be gone.

I can’t believe how much I hate.
Pressures of a new place roll my way.

Spirits in my room, friend or foe?
Felt it in my youth feel it when I’m old

I’ll be right there, but you’ll have to grab my throat and life me in the air. If you need anyone
I’ll stop my plans, but you’ll have to tie me down and then break both my hands.

You can learn to levitate with just a little help

Cowards only come through when the hours late and everyone’s asleep mind you

My heart is with you hiding but my minds not made

No we are not just graffiti on a passing train I got back what I once bought back in that slot I won’t need to replace

Sever all I thought I could depend on my weekends on the freezing ground that I’m sleeping on please keep me from please keep me down from the ledges

At least they all know all they hear comes from a place.

When everyone, you thought you know, deserts your fight, I’ll go with you
You’re facing down, a dark hall, I’ll grab my light and go with you

Surrounded and  up against a wall, I’ll shred em all. And go with you
When choices end, you must defend, I’ll grab a bat, and go with you

Stay with me, no you don’t need to run, stay with me, my blood.

They’re callin for your head and they’re callin for your name, I’ll bomb down on em I’m comin through

Just keep it outside

If you find yourself, in a lions den, I’ll jump right in, and pull my pin.

East is up, I’m fearless when I hear this on the low
Easy is up, I’m careless when I wear my rebel clothes

They will know that, Dema don’t control us

They wanna make you forget

Save your razor blades now, not yet

I’m flying from a fire, from Nico and the Niners.

What I say when I wanna be enough what a beautiful day for making a break for it, we’ll find a way to pay for it, maybe from all the money we made razor blade stores, rent a race horse, and force a sponsor, and start a concert a complete diversion, start a mob and you can be quite certain we’ll win but not everyone will get out.

Can’t stop thinking about if and when I die for now I see that if and when are trike different cries for If is purely panic and when is solemn sorrow and one invade today while the other spies tomorrow

If I keep moving they won’t know I’ll morph to someone else

I’m just a ghost

Defence mechanism mode

What are we here for if not to run straight through all our tormentors

Anybody listening?

This beat is a chemical

Lovin what I’m tasting
Venom on my tongue
Dependant at times
Poisonous vibrations

I’m running for my life

Hide you in my coat pocket

Felt I was invincible you wrapped around my head now different lives I lead my body lives on lead the last two lines may read incorrect until said

I despise you sometimes I love to hate the fight and you in much life is like sippin on straight chlorine

Grows while I decay

Can you build my house with pieces I’m just a chemical

My interior world needs to sanitize
I’ve got to step through or I’ll dissipate
I’ll record my step through for my basement tapes

Nice to my kind will be on my side

And you know you’re a terrible sight but you’ll Be just fine

Your exterior world can step off instead
It might take some friends and a warmer shirt but you don’t get thick skin without getting burnt

No I don’t know which way I’m going
But I can hear my way around

I never look for conflict for the thrill

For you I would get beat to smithereens

And my problem? We glorify those even more when they

My opinion our culture could treat a loss like it’s a win and right before we turn on them we give them the highest of praise and hang their banner from the ceiling communicating further ingravjng and earlier grace is an optional way. No.

What’s my problem don’t get it twisted it’s with the people we praise who may have assisted

I could go out with a band they would know my name they would host and post a celebration . My opinion will not be lenient

We don’t get enough love well they get a fraction they say how could he go if he’s got everything I’ll mourn for a kid but won’t cry for a king.

Neon gravestones try to call for my bones

Promise me this. If I lose to myself you won’t mourn a day and you’ll move on to someone else

But they won’t get them

Don’t get me wrong the rise in awareness is beating a stigma that no longer scares us but for sake of discussion in spirit of fairness could we give this some room for a new point of view and could it be true that some could be tempted to use this mistake as a form of aggression a form of succession a form of a weapon thinking I’ll teach them well in refusing the lesson it won’t resonate in our minds I’m not disrespecting what was left behind just pleading that it does not get glorified maybe we swap out what’s it is that we hold so high. Find your grandparents or someone of age. Pay some respects for the other that they paved to life they were dedicated now that should be celebrated.

I could take the high road but I know that I’m going low

I’m a bandito

This is the sound we make when in between two places where we used to bleed and where our blood needs to be

In city I feel my spirit is contained like neon inside the glass they form my brain but I recently discovered it’s a heartless fire like nicknames they give themselves to uninspire begin with bullet now add fire to the proof but I’m still not sure if fears a rival or close relative to truth either way it helps to hear these words bounce off of you the softest school could be enough for me to make it through

I created this world to feel some control destroy it if I want so I sing Sahlo Folina

I can feel pressure start to posses my mind so I’ll take this beat I should delete to exercise

No I move slow I wanna stop time I’ll sit here til I find the problem

This clique means so much to this dude it could make him afraid of his music and be scared to death he could lose it

You were one of those classic ones
Traveling around this sun

I wish she knew you

You were here when I write this but the masters and mixes will take to long to finish to show you I’m sorry I did not visit did not know how to take it when your eyes did not know me like I know you

Then the day that it happened I recorded this last bit I look forward to having a lunch with you again

I’m tired of tending to this fire

Embers barely showing proof of life in the shadows dancing on my plans

They know that it’s  almost over

The burning is so low it’s concerning *** they know that when it goes out it’s a glorious gone
It’s only time before they show me why no one ever comes back with details from beyond

In time I will leave the city for now I will stay alive

Last year I needed change of pace
Couldn’t take the pace of change
Moving hastily
But this year
Though I’m far from home
In trench inches not alone
These faces facing me
They know what I mean.

This fight will not be fought. We know who would win.
I know I would lose. And we may no longer be friends.

It's always you and her. I just happen to be there.
I know that's not what you want. I know that you two care.

You'd rather just be with her. She'd rather just be with you.
I just happen to be there. Everyone knows it's true.

She picked you already. She'd only ever SETTLE for me.
So before I **** anything up, I think I should flee.

I'm afraid to speak my mind; tell you to back off.
Tell you it bothers me when you two don't stop.

I don't know why I ever let myself care. Why I let this happen.
I knew it wouldn't go anywhere. Not even as a backup.

Only a couple more weeks, and I can just be gone.
I don't have to be a third wheel. I won't have to just watch.

I tear through cobweb-curtains
in the attic of my mind and gather
dusty memories and things long lost
I never thought I'd find

Delicately, I collect old photos
of forgotten smiles and love letters
that once set my heart alight
and broken lamps, love-stitched quilts,
worn cookbooks with my mother's
notes, and my trusted, rusted trike

I pack them in a cardboard box with
a smile and a wish, and with pride
I tie a balloon for every year of my life
and watch the memories rise

As the box wanders into the clouded
arms of the blue father-sky,
the shackles on my ankles are undone
and as I take weak steps like a newly mobile
fawn, I know that I am free and my
haunting is now gone

(A Tribute to Ted Slade - poet, 1937-2004)

This new friendship. This journey on which we were just setting out.

How will we work it now you've...well...gone?

It was going so well. That's the way I saw it anyhow.

It had only been a year - we two - back in each other's circle...

Same planet - different orbit. Though I'll never know now what your thoughts might have been..



This 52 year gap in our 'acquaintance', for that's all you'd ever say it was
,
it closed at dad's (your Uncle Bud's) funeral - as he leapt 'on-flame' to the ether.

He didn't half want to go..."Why don't they just let me slip away?"
And then it was you I wanted to know amongst those finger buffet scoffers.

Those ribboned aces never knew that Bud just kick-started their Lancasters and 'Spits' at Leconfield and Liberia.



Bud's morphine muted passing proved positive, and thankfully at last - 

(he might remember now) - he helped kick-start too this belated kinship between us.

Jack would have been pleased about that...(Bud too I know)

"a good trade" he'd have called it. "I'm knackered anyway".

I was always curious about our respective dads - they only ever sent Christmas cards...no letters. No love.



Bud gave me a book  before he swapped "heaven's hopper" for the "take & bake".

"Eer-yar" he wheezed...this is more up your street than mine..."

"Yer what?..."Poetry?...No... I can't make head nor tail of it. Like Shakespeare...Where's me glasses?"

and, with that ,the "Last Arm Pointing" welded that closing gap between us tight shut.

I read 'Mystery Tour' to Bud...about Jack's 'motorised passing' and he cried. So, it was up his street. after all.



Your words filled me in on distant memories...made solid.
Missing chunks I'd seen but never written down
.
Of Withernsea and its winter isolation

of Jack, his life - and how it intertwined with yours.

I've not found too much yet about Phyllis. Is there a darker story there? Who'll tell me now?



Your final work, tireless as ever, from your New Malden 'crow's nest'...

was steering your second collection to print...and then...

Your literally-literal Mugs and Sweats - flying off the shelves of a California warehouse.

Disabled? Pah!  Why should they ever know the what & why behind the who and when?

Your 'disability'...would only 'publicly' let you down if your trike sustained a puncture in Richmond Park.



"Hi Cuz...Where do I go to get mugs and sweat shirts printed?"

And then, whilst I was looking through directories & old invoices,

you whizzed across the earth on the wings of your laser guided mouse.

By the time I'd got the phone numbers of long distance, half remembered contacts -

you had designs submitted, distribution and royalty deals sorted and were planning the next big thing.



Your freehold on the planet was the web...your very own super-short cut.

Who needs invalid cars when you can 'fly digital'?

You were a lover of the dub-dub-dub which loved you back in floods.

Now, even when your body has deserted you - it still throws us pages and pages - of you - and about you.

The Noddy Holders and Wes the Western Gun-slinger, pale by comparison, they'd envy your PR knack.



Instead of trying to phone, (these heavenly BT - or is it ET-connections often end in wrong numbers)...

and, because a lot of the time talking took it out of you, I'll keep writing like I did before.

Replies would be good. But I often used to write out of turn anyway.

So yes, things could get a bit one sided...forgive me if I 'go on', and... you don't!

But I'll keep writing to Ted@poetrykit.org and read the answers in your books and old e-mails of the family's past.



Cheers Ted...Lots of love Chris (Cuz) Slade.

Doris bought herself a bike when she were 93.
Thought a trip to John 'O'Groats, would keep her flying free.
Started off at Lands End, from there on she did wobble.
Rode past the tanker.  
****** driver,what a ******.
He nearly knocked her off.
She noted down his registration number.
Took it to the cop shop.
Wasn't feeling very happy, poor old darling needs a *****.

Got back on her bike, to resume her hike.
The raindrops poured and granny snored.
Had a kip while on her bike, maybe Granny needed a trike.
Got as far as the corner shop.
She fancied a little nibble.
Noticed it was getting dark.
She checked out the sky.
Decided cycling was too hard work.
So off she went.
Decided to fly.
Grabbed her broomstick from the hallway.
Off she flew, up, up and away.
Wahey Doris.
Witch granny on an away-day.
(C)LIVVI 2014

I asked this child what life is like
Spending the day on their trike
As they peddled hard they peddled fast
Life is like a trike I guess

I asked a boy in his teens
What is life like and what does it mean
He hopped onto his motorbike
And then flew off into the night

I asked someone of middle age
What is it about life that's all the rage
They rolled up the window and drove away
With nothing much about it to say

I asked an old man if he cared to share
What life was like in his wheelchair
He sat for a time with a vacant stare
Then wheeled himself out, going nowhere

tis but a rusted memory
now
but once a child's pride and
beloved toy....

fire engine-red trike,
riden for miles, and miles
and across lands of
imagined adventure....

feet pumping, wind in face
bell clattering, tink-tink-tink
and screams of pure...
unadulterated JOY

now a shadow,
draped in old hessian cloth
bell silent, rust weeping
and frozen to the ground

red trike,
i ride you still
in my dreams
we still slay dragons
tho now it seems
that dragons have many
guises, many lives
and that in this life
of adultness...i am in
dragons...sometimes
not often, but sometimes win

Down in the depths of the hole, there's no sound but the beat of my heart
And my dark charred thoughts
That drip like black oil
That everything it touch's, it stains and soils
Thoughts of death and gruesome memories
From them there is no where to flee
So I lay in the bed curled into a tight ball
Just waiting to hit the bottom of the fall
There is no one to talk to, no one to call
No one knows how this inky darkness flows
How it consumes the soul and continues to grow
I'm imprisoned in theses bones, this skin
Is this how the end begins
I've prayed for love and light
But I've only been given glimpses of that site
Any happiness I have fought for is snatched away
In just a short few days
So now I pray
For death and a shortening of my years
To live a long agonize life is my fears
Not one month goes by that tragedy doesn't strike
It's like trying to get through life on a trike
You pedal really really hard but get no where
To tell the truth I just don't care
I want to become totally unaware

THE NOW AND THEN OF A DÓNALL BECOMING THE THIS AND THAT OF NEW NOW

me master of the trike
my own time machine
dashing from the past to a future

still always me
despite time gone
the time to come

still only me
with just a bit of time
added here...subtracted there

playing chicken
with the arcs of
my life's narrative

crashing into who I was
colliding with who
l will or. . . might be

*

Me dashing across the road at No. 31 O'Higgins Rd., on my trike and wearing my Dad's army hat. Les girls are sitting on the grass facing THE BATHS. My Dad has just probably come home and is inside kissing my Mam. I used to wait for cars to come and then dash across the road in a Russian roulette with my little life. But my trike and I were fast and survived these dare devil antics. The Military police were informed and asked me to desist in my trike thrills. I love the pile of bikes lounging around at the gate. That was the known mode of transport at the time...bikes and bikes and trikes!

They are sitting on the bank just across from the baths...me....I laugh death in the face....I think I'm untouchable...100 cars and counting....and I'm still not dead...I must be immortal!

As you can see although I was an immortal little boy...I didn't have a big head....that cap is nearly bigger than me.

I had a big mind and a small head back then...now...I've got a small mind and a big head!

The Maddens lived next door...Pete Madden was a lovely guy and ran the baths and only got slightly mad when we put a football through a window. Mrs. Madden was gorgeous and even as a little boy I was madly in love with her.

I love( still )the crusts off bread and she would cut all the crusts off her bread and give me a bag of crusts. I was in heaven and went around with a crust sticking out of my gob pretending it was a cigarette and I was a wise guy like Bogey making wisecracks and smoking crust-of-bread cigarettes.

Here's looking at me kid!

At least we'll always have the Curragh.

You were hungry tonight at midnight
And woke me up out of a dead sleep
For the fifth time in a row,
But I got up and fed you,
And that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

Today you started to walk
And thought I was crazy
Because I videoed you
And talked about how that
Big guy named Daddy,
Who’s been here since day one,
Wasn’t here to see.
And I was squealing
The whole time.
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

Today you started to talk
And your first word was
“Ma-ma"
And I laughed and cried
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

Then you learned how to ride a trike
And soon after that a bike.
You looked at me like I was nuts
After I said something about how
You were growing up too fast.
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what’s Mommies do.

When you are ten,
And you’re upset
Because you played kickball
And you were picked last,
I won’t tell you it’s no big deal,
Because Mommy knows just how you feel.
I’ll tell you it’s their loss,
But I know right now,
It feels like yours.
Then I’ll hug you and we’ll get icecream
And talk about how we’ve never liked kickball anyway,
And that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

Today I told you
That’s it’s okay to be mad
And it’s okay to be sad.
But when you’re mad,
Count to ten and
When very mad one hundred,
Just like Jefferson said,
And don’t let anger
Get the best of you.
When you’re mad
And you don’t know what to do
And the mad you have makes you feel sad,
You can come sit in my lap, even when you’re twenty-two,
And we’ll try to talk it through,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

When you’re sixteen,
And you like someone
But you don’t want to,
Because it doesn’t fit the Five-year plan,
I’ll tell you how I had a Five-year plan
But I met Daddy in Year Two
And a week before Year Three,
I knew he was the one for me.
So before Year Three
Was halfway done,
Daddy and I
Had the same last name.
And by Year Five,
Daddy and I found out
Soon there would be
A little baby in our house.
I’ll tell you how sometimes your dreams change
From traveling to Greece,
To wiping tear-stained cheeks
And that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

When you go off to college,
Or maybe to China,
Like your aunt did,
To take care
Of babies who
Don’t have mommies,
Or wind up in the army
To protect your country,
Like your uncle,
I’ll be waving goodbye
And crying
Because it feels like
Part of me is dying
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.

©5-24-06

The canvas of a child’s mind
Is blank when he is born.

The mind of a child is like a garden in the spring time
It is planted, watered, and nurtured , and over time grows
into something beautiful.

Many times I just need to stop what I am doing and listen… listen to what the “still small voice” is trying to tell me. Taking time to smell the lilacs, so to speak, to soak in the beauty around us, to reflect that God really is God and not a figment of our imagination, is what life should be about. Turning off the things that interrupt our mind (tv/radio/neighbor/spouse ;-) , etc) and listening and seeing the simple joys in life, gives me peace for today and hope that tomorrow will be even better.

My joy these days is in a 24 pound little boy who entered this world 13+ months ago not under the best of circumstance but loved just the same. I would not trade him for all the money in the world. He is the light of my life. When I come home very tired, it would be easy to do what I want… rest, but the look on his little face when I come into the room somehow sparks a little more energy in me to pick him up. He lays his head on my shoulder, gives a sigh, and all is well with the world. Actually, all is well for both of us. Sort of like laying your head on the Lord’s shoulder.

In the spring time, gardens are planted and begin to grow. For him, (my grandson) his mind is like a garden. The seeds planted in his early life, the time taken to talk and play with him, watered with love and compassion, will grow and develop and hopefully the beauty of his garden will crowd out the **** seeds that the winds of the world blow in from time to time. Love always triumphs over hate if you never give up.

I know many kids never had a chance at an early age to grow and bloom into a beautiful garden. Years later, **** killer (God) was applied, the soil tilled by His hand, revealed the potential of their garden. The gardens they grow are beautiful in the eyes of our Lord and Savior. When someones garden is getting a little dry, we need to help water their garden with love, compassion and understanding from our abundance. The small things that don’t cost much but have a big impact on the growing beauty of a garden are important not only to children but to big people as well.

Is there any better way to spend our time than to nurture a growing garden? I think not. I may not live to see my grandson’s garden bloom and produce great things as he becomes a man but I know God will honor the planting and watering I do beyond the day He takes me home.

7-1-08
Time has passed and my grandson is now three. What an age this is. New learning, every day, is taking place and I am a part of it. It is a great honor to help plant God’s love in this little boy. Now that I am retired we are out and about many days of the week. We are still chasing squirrels, watching for fire engines and high flying jets, and meeting new people in the park. Some of the new people are pretty nice and Tony knows which ones they are.

A reporter followed us around last October during one of our many visits to the City Park in Twin Falls Idaho. She did a great job of writing a story about nothing of importance, but it was and is important to Tony since it was about him.  “Walk in the Park” search in the Times News will get:


http://m.magicvalley.com/lifestyles/relationships-and-special-occasions/taking-a-walk-in-the-park-with-grandpa/articlecef84065-d992-5a06-a1c8-631123517f4e.html?mobiletouch=tr­ue

7-5-08
Well it is the day after turning 65, my feet hurt after a morning of “walking in the park”. Tony rode his trike and I got some needed exercise. Today is a great day. Yesterday I was not feeling all that chipper and may, yes just may, have been a little grouchy. It happens when my glucose level gets too high. I made a comment to one of the family who brought home a burger in a paper sack… “you got any grouch pills in there?” A few minutes later I heard Tony say to someone, “we need to find Grandpa’s grouch pills.” It cracked me up and we did not need to find the “grouch pills”. The little guy has a way of shining a light in the darkness and brightening up the whole room. I imagine God is laughing and I suppose God finds our “grouchiness” to be rather silly. Actually it is rather pointless, non-productive, and self-centered activity that gains nothing… oh where did I leave those grouch pills. Aaah yes, thank you Father. I needed that. When you can’t find your grouch pills just look up and se Jesus.


04-03-2021
Time has passed... can you imagine that?... and I’m still here at 77.  Tony is now 16. He has great plans on what he wants to do. May it happen. He will be driving the old man now.

Probably 6 years ago October 31 we were in McDonald’s. Tony and Lucy were dressed for the occasion. The lady behind the counter asked if I was going to dress for Halloween. I told her I was already dressed... that I was going as a grumpy old man.  Been practicing all year. She just laughed.  See what I have to put up with???

Drove past a mansion the other day,
high on a hill,
grand and stately,
with manicured lawns,
and wrought iron fences,
adorned with Morning Glories.

Then I drove on,
to a cozy little house,
swingset in the yard
and a trike in the driveway.

It may not be much,
but it's mine.

Walked past a gym the other day,
sculpted forms of the human physique,
active and graceful,
growing strong and healthy,
fashionably decorated
with the latest workout attire.

Then I walked on
to a medical center,
examined and tested
a barely passing grade.

This body may not be much,
but it's mine.

I went to the park the other day,
a cheerful young woman,
pushing a giggling child in a swing,
while another built castles in the sand.

I may not be much,
but I'm theirs.

At the age of 3
me hammer
nails and all
my play stuff from me dad
I was a happy lad

Those were the good times me lad
those were the best
these are our fine times
enjoy the test!!
just be a pest!!!!!!!!!

At 6 I had a trike ..
life was a happy life
did wheelies all the time
was hot
the summer fine

Those were the good times me lad
those were the best
these are our fine times
enjoy the test
just be a pest!!!!!!!!!


At 10 my life caved in
as grandad fell within
my time to grow ......
an adult life

Those were the sad times me lad
those wer'nt the best
these are our fine times
enjoy the test
just be a pest!!!!!!!!!

At 14 i did alright
got gruff a voice a fright
kicked footy till it hurt
stood lamping in the dark

Those were the good times me lad
those were the best
these are our fine times
enjoy the test
just be a pest!!!!!!!!!

And now its all done over
my work I'm almost sober
I'm old yet way before my time
tis time to pass the baton to son
come on lets have em

Enjoy the good times me lad
these are the best
those were our fine times
enjoy the test
just be a pest!!!!!!!!!

There once was a man whose last name was the name of an animal
and the animal was a symbol of everything the man believed in
and it just so happened that the animal was also a symbol of
many a man's beliefs

and so it was that the man worked very hard
and became very wealthy so that in his great success
he wanted everyone to know his name
and see it on display

so he commissioned a statue by the finest sculptor in the world
to create a huge sculpture of a particular animal
that had the same name as his last name
a sculpture of crystal with many facets
for which he paid dearly

and when he put it on display in the foyer of his beautiful mansion
where everyone could see it
they loved it
and in so loving the sculpture they were loving the man
and all those that saw the sculpture were bent to covet the sculpture
and wished to be successful like the man who had commissioned it
so they came in droves to see it
and left with fantasies of their own
about creating art resembling their names
but mostly their names were too normal
like Smith or Jones or Sarsaparilla
(and although Sarsaparilla isn't normal
it hardly deserves a sculpture)

then one day an unspeakable horror
put an end to the covetous visitors  
you see it was on that day everything changed
when his children were playing in the foyer
running and laughing like children do
they were happy children
happy because they had it all
and never wanted for anything

when one boy pushed the other and
the sculpture came crashing down upon the smallest boy
sitting on his trike
and crushed the boy to death

and the great man with the name of the important animal
wept        
and cursed the day
that he had wished for more
and had so foolishly believed that more was the answer
because now if he could
he would give it all back

if only he could hold the boy one more time
his tiny son crushed by the commissioned crystal sculpture of the animal
resembling his name that was accidentally knocked over by those who
had everything and wanted for nothing because their father had worked
so hard in order for them to have it all

but worse than all of that
and worse than anything else

was that his great name once a symbol of freedom and strength
would forevermore be a symbol of pain and sorrow

and there's nothing worse than having everything you believe in
thrown upside down in the form of ultimate mockery

the realization that the pain will never go away

or be forgotten

a pain that is forever

a nail driven through his heart every  time  he  signs  his  name


                             ­                                         Signed _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
                                                                ­                                   John R. Eagle

I rode my bike
It's not a trike
Like it's heavy as steel
But one thing I can say
That may save the day
It's turquoise and pink
Which make people think
NICE BIKE!

I can't stand the way we grind, people try to rhyme about how everything is fine, but really they're the ones who blind us while the elitists of this time  commit their crimes, there's no time to become famous cause the ones that provide for us also deprive us, til I came in attempts to revive us, too bad we're self-righteous it's only a matter of time before a mass crisis arises, unless we reverse our ways and go back to naturalistic days, too bad that's just a faded dream like the haze smuggled onto our streets by the same people who object to legalizing it, most are oblivious to the ways of a priest, he's there so you don't **** your ***** niece, stuck in the underground, fell through a crease, but that don't matter cause it's all just for lease, you're kidding yourself if you think this is fiction, open your eyes and stop letting corporate news tell lies to your children via the false ways of a Christian, trying to ruin our ambition and replace it with a tuition, following an unsustainable audition, go ahead start on your trike cause the words I spit are way beyond the concept of a bike

Once upon a time
Is something so easy to rhyme
I can even throw in a lime
Funny enough it only cost a dime
Here I sit in my prime
Silent as a yelling mime
Turn up the volume times nine
Twirling around so high
Riding a little trike
No knowledge of spite
Around which to bind
Life stays bright
Do not let it slide
Take it for a ride
Watch the incoming tide
Our worlds collide
We both come inside
Relinquish our pride
Give up the fight
'Fess up to the lies
A moment to reconcile
Then we begin to smile
And laughing all the while
Once upon a time

It's a bright day
A cool wind seeps
Though my bedroom window
Making the air,
Pleasantly crisp.
In slept in,
Should of gone to church,
But I was too sleepy for God.
There is an emptiness to the blue sky
Like a tropical ocean
I want to drive deep into it
And swim in her invigorating waters.
On the street I see,
A family of four walk by,
Mum pushing baby little girl
Rides her pink trike with white wheels
I had one, once .
It's a shame I have to study today,
I'll try but the sun
Is blinding me

Hush, my darling
watch
wait
Slip one foot over the edge.
Find that one weak spot and press
letting the cracks scream and spit and hiss.
Until nothing remains but a dark abyss
that's calling, begging you to fall.

Hear an ocean raging, seething, foaming
at the mouth. Wanting to lick up any piece of you,
to serenade you, promising desires before the curl.
The curl that pulls you into a peaceful lull just ahead of the
crunch
that collapses your breath and pushes
rivers into your lungs.

See an illusion.
A tropical paradise beckoning.
Beauty from a distance with devouring teeth.
Not whole, swallowed, painful, but brief. Rather,
slowly - one ache at a time.
An ant sting, small, but trickling poison
into a stream that pumps through your ankle. Then a bubbling,
ghastly surface that won't release the throbbing. Still more.
Silence precedes
the serpent's trike.
Taking with, all dilemmas in one torturous
Moment. Wrongly counted as a blessing. Unbearable,
but better than the old pain, for awhile.
And more than pain is the hopeless knowledge: there's no boat
to sail you back.

Feel the blistering desert heat.
Lips that crack and bleed, releasing a sweet juice
into your unquenchable throat. Sweat that drips
driving you nuts from knowing
that water is wasted...

Know.

Know the burning seas that are nothing more
than your mind
discovering the darkest side.
And nothing less.

Cry for all the lights you can't turn to. Can't bring to life
because they'll break you.
Let that hole open so wide that there's no mistaking it
but for the darkness is possesses.
Then pull that foot back and stand
on solid ground.
You've seen, heard and felt your demons.

You've waited
and watched,
You're
Safe, my darling.

Down in the depths of the hole, there's no sound but the beat of my heart
And my dark charred thoughts
That drip like black oil
That everything it touch's, it stains and soils
Thoughts of death and gruesome memories
From them there is no where to flee
So I lay in the bed curled into a tight ball
Just waiting to hit the bottom of the fall
There is no one to talk to, no one to call
No one knows how this inky darkness flows
How it consumes the soul and continues to grow
I'm imprisoned in theses bones, this skin
Is this how the end begins
I've prayed for love and light
But I've only been given glimpses of that site
Any happiness I have fought for is snatched away
In just a short few days
So now I pray
For death and a shortening of my years
To live a long agonize life is my fears
Not one month goes by that tragedy doesn't strike
It's like trying to get through life on a trike
You pedal really really hard but get no where
To tell the truth I just don't care
I want to become totally unaware

Dibble bubble bubble
Written on shitely mearce
A stake to plunder crunch
Of politician Pierce
Colligan
To hollagans
Collagen appeal
Maketh dartboards out of heart boards
Wherein innocence tis real
Foughty daughty submarines
Climbs to ****** coarse
Follitine
Dreamers
Plot success Morse
Coffee beans
To livered spleens
Pains to shock the trike
Childress of a virtue
Seaps of anothers life
Trigulues
And bedulues
Smiling at the air
Drommatice
And romisis
Promises don't care
Foughty immense Brice
Pickled to shickled biles
***** of settle keaster ways
A blighty for the smile
Libertinth
And minants tint
Flight to bagbird heads
Crucifixed pixies
Twilight up ahead!!!

Have you been to the mountain?
No no no. But
I've been under the bridge, Mr. Jones.
I've washed my feet in Cottonwood Creek.
I've named the meadowlarks after ex-girlfriends.
Suzanne. Isis. Mel-oh-dee.
Some mornings I woke up in places I'd never
been and on those mornings,
oh I woulda killed for a pen.
The fog and the
steady gasp of diesels
surrounded me and sang sang sang.
Tall grass along the interstate
and god, he didn't talk to me,
but I pretended to be god and talked
to myself, saying This way. This way.
This way to the promised land.
On what I thought to be
the Fourth of July, mud dried
around my knees in the Quapaw,
and I stood up for four days straight before
the rains came.
And finally, in the golden dawn,
I arrived at my childhood home.
Ivy on the chimney. Rusted trike in the overgrown lawn.
My father sat in his chair. Static on the TV.
He said, "Haven't done yourself in yet?"
My mother, in cobwebs and rags said, "He's got
one classic in him, one heartbreaking work
of genius before he goes."
And I asked her for a title.
She only pointed.
I turned and that's when I saw her,
the Girl at the Gate.

Sixtys the new thirty
so I've bought myself a bike
a Harley with a heart of chrome
to replace my shopping trike

no more bingo nights for me
my engine gunning loud
I've joined with the Hells Angels
and left the knitting crowd

No more standing in the rain
with my bus pass and my brella
im off to find myself some fun
with a rather younger fella

My hair net now an helmet
painted to look like flames
and notches on my fuel tank
cause I can't remember names

So clear the road I'm coming
and I won't be slowing down
cause I'm taking back my freedom
from this stuffy little town

Lock up your single men
hide them safe and sound
because the boys will all be men
if by this gal there found

My Harley roars and I'm away
another notch I've carved
so sixty the new thirty
at least then it's been halved.

I want to get there
if only I knew where there was
A time machine
or some entry door dream
to do what ever it does

I want to get there
if someone could please tell me how
a right or a left to
head east or go west yes
I'm sure I could go there right now

I want to get there
so I won't imagine what it's like
to see a fool on a bike
ride round the world twice
but not as fast as the elephant on the trike

I can still see Stan pulling his hair and
off there to the right, Oliver with his,
I can never remember if it was a bowler or a pork pie hat, but I kinda like that, like the haziness of a memory that comforts me, it's a
part of the comedy of growing up.

Once, like I was two or maybe three an eternity ago, on a trike, pedals and a bell, pedalling like hell was on nmy trail,
but
the word constituent, constituant, ringing in my head, must have repeated and said that word for hours and hours.

Mum Said, i had ABC, well that's waht it sounded like to me,

acronyms, CIA, RAC,CBI,

I went to the citizens advice bureau
the CAB, WHICH
if I really had OCD, would be the ABC, BUT YOU SEE the alphabet is what we get in tinswith tomata sauce and Mum OF course had the last
word.
They always do when you're two or maybe three.

spaghetti roll feast
walk pillage
alligator cross drum

They just invented a reason
For all the things we do
From burping out in the public square
To keeping animals locked in the zoo

So now there's no need to question why
Aloha means hello and goodbye
Or they say keep your head when we lose our minds
Because now there is a good reason why

For when we sneeze and say achoo
All in the crowd exclaim bless you
The invented reason gives a clue
For everything that we now do

Like with two wheels it's called a bike
One a unicycle, three wheels a trike
The reason now is easy to find
Without overtaxing the overtaxed mind

But there's one reason eluding me
In all my years of reasoning
What took so long with this invention
And was there a good reason for the time it's been missing

it is christmas
we sit laughing admist
an **** of wrapping paper
eating croissants and red fruit compote....(family secret recipe)

watching our boy cycle
about on his new red trike
with nana ensconced in
her new whicker chair...

the air full of carols and christmas cheer ....

later, we will again open
our house to those with
orphans and the festivities
will begin.....

but for now....it is us....
wishing all of you
the best of the season...
be blessed...be safe...
be happy....
                 merry christmas

I've come along way since I was a kid, riding a trike.
But why are all my poems getting these likes?
Poems are usually written for literary folk.
But all my poems are just a joke.

I might try hard, my soul might be hollow.
But if my poems aren't good, why am I getting follows?
I don't even think I'm very good at this.
So why am I only getting support, not any dis?

Well, whatever. I'll just keep doing what I do best. Writing whatever I feel like.