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I am victim only to constant distractions,
restrictions, prescriptions, vicarious factors,
as various factions of elitism prescribe defeat
to the common man; the hard working talented
beaten upon by the self driven commerce land.
Businessmen, crooks, warlords and bankers;
victory purports itself the higher moral ground.
******* the world, lie on the crimson sand.

The brevity of riches in led laden ditches,
trenches v armistice; one man’s control over
cadets and lieutenants. Equality it seems
is general ignorance, propose roll reversal
and receive corporal punishment. Capital
interests will be met with bursaries, bail
out the banks and return to your knees,
put out your hands and beg for your feed.

If the top three percent own more wealth
than the lower half put together while
politicians claim to be fair-weather,
conclude that sincerities amiss, that
your representatives are on the pay roll
of profit driven lobbyists. Career crazed fat-cats
couldn’t care less if you're in tattered garments
or there’s a hole in your dress, their polished
boots carry them from vault to vault
while we fill another with oil-baron asphalt.

As social repression pushes populations
science progresses, enabling armed forces
to kettle us, cut us off and circle on horses.
Power-shifts across the globe become jaded
by investment with private militias and fascist
supremacists seizing resources from war
torn villages to fund their crude sourced
morality, migrants and refugee families
are vilified by ignorance forged in cynicism
caused by the inequality of education.

Here lie the symptoms of infinite regression,
hold mirror to gene-pool as it replicates
the same flawed equation, as populations
expire and conspire so does the problem.
Bombing a country without repercussions,
is as likely as a breaking the waters surface
without sending ripples to the adjacent atoms.
These are the dark ages of social stagnation.
Flip the pillow, the cold brings comfort
The air sticks to the wall, you turn away
Shattered night sky, restless thunder
A bow shaped cloud ignites, luminous
blue fissures weld a crossbow of bolts.

Flash, the night sky glows, white hot
subconscious blink, the room lights up.

Fall back exhausted as storm breezes cleanse.
Rainwater Winds and pockets of pressure,
Under the blanket, the mercury measures
Eighty degrees, your skin starts to sizzle,
Rain pounds the glass, gusts cool the air.

Rest those tired eyes, shut yourself in
Storms will retreat, serenity will win.
Everyone's lying
But nobody is listening,
Coins glimmer and shine;

The truth still glistens
At dawn over crop fields,
Sunlit canopies.

Nature prevails
To show us our failures,
Yet, mankind squabbles.

The death toll rises
And nothing ever changes;
We don't have the time.

Keep spinning the wheel,
The sunset brings shade.
Only the truly blind can find peace
in the eye of the storm, our bubble of bliss.
Shoulder to shoulder you bands of brothers landed.
Code name Operation Neptune was underway.
You noble breed, not knowing what lay ahead
Just knowing that your duty was called upon.
The bugle sounded, you all answered the call
nobly you waded those waters for all.
06/06/1944 was the day.
The largest seaborne invasion in history.
Yet, you brothers in arms were not caring of history making
Just making it to the beach, alive.
I can but humbly thank you for what you all did that day,
you that lived and those that died.
What thoughts must have played in your mind.
A lone piper played throughout, what courage you all displayed.
No wonder we that came after you, leave you feeling dismayed.
Many wars have been fought since, their courage is also undenied,
but, you, you thousands on those beaches showed the world the meaning
of pride, respect and warrior.
On the beaches of Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword,
you carved a way in. To end the war.
Nobler people I doubt exist, and soon this 70th anniversary
will fade in time, but not that date of June the sixth (1944)
© JLB
06/06/2014
How tectonics shift
As continents drift apart,
Oceans open up.

Now you, undeterred
Ascend the promontory,
Cross the esplanade.

Poised with honours,
You sidle the cliff edge path
Predator to prey.

Await your moment.
Swoop, gliding on the uplift,
Behind you a trail.

My mirth, invested in you
This day escapes me.
A parting gift.
Fleeting thoughts swirl up like vapour
escaping this thick bone chamber
flickering with irrationality through
the endless prism of false labour.

For life’s lust is lost in a paranoid wreckage:
mystery paradigm proclaim yourself more
than enigmatic refuse, ruminating unreasonably
in this hotshot ******* driven battle against

the weak, the slow, the poor and trapped
the meek who run computer cracks
just to stay connected to the planet
which span them out of tune.

We are a danger unto ourselves, for a foggy
lane in summer sits a head firmly back
on shoulders, slovenly my ego
shrinks beneath quivering boulders.

Sparks fly from my torso, out of my solar plexus
as I spur a perennial twitch of trepidation
to reignite my lust; to help those who seldom
see the sun, or laughter running off the tongue.

My drift wood frame spurns, deceivingly incognito;
my cognition conjures disdain for all false frivolity:
The chasm behind the mind of those who relish
finite goods and cherish only their immediate

surroundings, the sinkhole of inadequate lobbying
peers who snort and cackle away the thought
of true democracy. This disdain we grow pushes
brickwork barriers to breaking point, where stones

and dust yield to gravitational collapse
Only a fool clutches the words of the wise
and writes them in the mind, yet only a fool
would paraphrase words which altered lives.

So ever the jester I must warn the top-bracket
bureaucrats that the harder you push down
liberty the more she grows out to the side
the 'greed of man will pass and tyrannies die'

For now 'We are buried beneath the weight
of information, which is being confused
with knowledge; quantity confused
with abundance and wealth with happiness.  

'We are monkeys with money and guns.’
running a mock of our planet and crowning
ourselves above all odds as a likely contender
to colonise further than our means. Though...

‘the good earth is rich and can provide for all
Our knowledge has made us cynical.
Our cleverness hard and unkind.
We think too much and feel too little'

Yet have mastered the sea and the sky
as nebulas appear through concave lenses
far and wide, the thieves who stop progression
have much to answer for, dwarfing mankind’s

potential and making extinction inevitable as ice
ages come and clean the planet even giants
die out, but those who can work to a common goal,
I promise, we’ll leave these fools behind.
You’re left at the back, anxious at sunrise
as day by day we drift through consciousness.
Ring the Bell. These thoughts are your demise

Act profound, fixating us with lies
Invigorate a prompt adress;
your qualms are back, anxious at sunrise

You’re mother’s boy, your father’s eyes
they know first hand, you’re prone to stress:
so ring the bell. Your thoughts: our demise.

Refrain from fear, nor anthropomorphise:
doe’s endear, their bliss is careless.
You’re stuck at the back, anxious as sons rise

and fall or fail to climb. Surprise,
surprise, with fear of death you now obsess,
over the bell. Our words: your demise.

They say you’re fine, you compromise,
it’s in your head, that last abscess.
You’re left to rot; absent at sunrise
they’ve all forgotten. Those thoughts, your demise.
The world is formed by the active and 'the whole problem... is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.'

- Bertrand Russel
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