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Sunday 11 December 2011

Graft

Graft

And when the workingman grows tired
No longer duty bound to serve
His life to waste in endless toil
To ensure the boss is full

And the digger cuts another turf
For an infant who should still be here
But for the lack of basic care
By a fool in white and no time to spare

We’ve lost all faith in the upper class
To many times they fail
On the battlefields of France we fell
While they quaffed vintage wine

So raise a pint to the honest heart
Of the soul of this deep English soil
The results of a lifetime at the plough
And the selfless sweat and graft








Dreams

Dreams

Beat me down
Take my home and all in it
Torture and bring me down

Break my bones
And free the blood from my veins
Make me scream out against the pain

But if I am alive
And when you leave
You will have my soul
And I will have my dreams

Barbed Crown

Barbed Crown

When efforts turn away
From toils that always fail
To lay to rest our goal
Of eternal peace

And the cowardly self concerned
Hide in the shadows, like frightened ghouls
Longing to clear their minds
Of the conscience they ignore

From the terrified tear splashed cheeks
Of the barbed wire crown
On the head of an aging child
With no smile, no love, no hope

To the ancient grief torn face
Of the fighters who never sleep
There only trusted friend a
Polished Russian rifle

War virus plagues the world
Its cure another shot
Of scalding lead, sent deep into the heart
Of another brainwashed fool

We must stand and help
For the truth is our lives today
Have all the trappings of great wealth
With a bait laid down in hell

Fireside

FIRESIDE

I’ve sat in silence and wept the night to day
Rode the wind with laughter by my side
Kissed the lips that reached so tenderly
Then fell to sleep in loving arms caress

When I woke I walked with honest pride
Helped the ones who had no care for me
I never turned my back on any man
Or called on to those who turn away

Each journeys mile I wandered at my pace
Heeded some words, ignored a few as well
My strides been matched by feet that joined me for a while
Then softly left, an echo in my thoughts

By the fireside of deep content
I took my chair and placed it in the path
So I absorbed each radiant fall of bliss
My smile a gift from every trodden mile

Pests

The Pest


They drive you crazy
In the summer months
The ants and flies
And snails and slugs

Them pesky birds
Eat up you seed
The moles trash your lawn
What a dirty deed

Even our friends
Our trusty hounds
End up outcast
In the lost and found

Foxes they’re by far the worst
They kill our chickens
The farmers curse

The rabbits eat up all our crops
Along with gliding hare
With big brown eyes and floppy ears
We cull without a care

Then those nasty badgers
They spread disease around
So we cull again or wipe out
Where ever the are found

Big is not a problem
We take the elephant
And turn it into key fobs
Or dusty ornaments

And if they dare to fight back
Like the tiger or the shark
Then we turn them into medicine
Or blow their brains apart

Did someone stop to ponder?
How everything above
Survives in perfect harmony
Without a pest like us

Time

Time

For the memories of the greatest times
Spent entwined within your arms
The laughter echoes daily when
I think of you

A friendship built within our lives
Of hardship and triumphant times
Without you I would have deeply missed
The reason I exist

You bring the morning when you wake
You take the sun when you must sleep
Beneath the autumns leafy piles
Our footsteps tread for mile on mile

Love is molten burning bright
But time will cool and stop its flow
But it’s then that love sets steel and true
And that’s the time I share with you

May we be joined if that be fate?
By an image flesh of ours
To share our love and spend some time
Treading again the fresh turned leaves

My valentine, my love and all
Take my heart and keep it safe
For it is brittle as your own
And by your side it makes its home

Lynmouth

Lynmouth

What a day out in the throat
Of Exmoor and fine Lyn mouth
Grey teeth smile and Bluest breath
Salved sea drips from the jowls
At another Devon feast

No foul breath instead
A cough of cooling ice runs free
Across the stubbled, chiselled chin
Of purple, yellow, green

Razor missed but for fine styled ways
Time worn wrinkles
That make old Lyn mouth smile