The Photos of my Youth

The photos of my youth are all in sepia
The movies, black and white, and silent too
No instant replay from digital media
No internet to send them on to you

But though my yesterdays appear much duller
I can remember them in technicolour.

Truth

I am an idea
Born in the  mind of a suffering man
Passed on by voice as the story began
Filling the Earth through millennial span.

I am a hazel twig
More power in your hand than the mightiest sword
Divining the facts from the evidence stored
A weapon revealed by the turn of a word.

I am a lightning rod
Feet planted in earth and head in the sky
Roaring defiance at the storm passing by
Strike as you like for I cannot die!

Hooked

Though true love strikes
sometimes the hook comes free
so cast again
there's more fish in the sea.

and should you catch,
your fish is sure to fight
against the pain
of true love at first bite

so get a grip
don't let your passions flag
until at last
true love is in the bag.

Living the dream

It's Friday night and we've bin paid
us lads from 'factory floor
so now we're gone down to th'arcade
to show them all what for.

In drainpipe jeans and Oxford shirts
us lads from 'factory floor
we makes a beeline for the skirts
to see if we can score.

      Reeking of sweat and pheromones
      us lads from 'factory floor
      living the dream of the Rolling Stones
      in nineteen sixty-four.

Our chat-up lines are all first class
us lads from 'factory floor
so arm in arm wi' lucky lass
we go through 'palaise door.

We drink and dance and try our luck
us lads from 'factory floor
but good girls never give a - chance
that's not what they're here for.

      Reeking of sweat and pheromones
      us lads from 'factory floor
      living the dream of the Rolling Stones
      in nineteen sixty-four.

Waves

The waves run up the sandy beach
trip over their own feet and fall
and run away back out of reach
to gather and repeat it all.

A man is born and lives his life
he marries woman, fathers son
who in his turn will take a wife
and so the story carries on.

And stars that in their glory shine
will in a supernova die
continuing their stellar line
spreading their seed across the sky.

Platforms

Platform one a vale of tears
of couples riven by goodbyes
the claret stain of broken hearts
washed clean by tears from bloodshot eyes

Travelling-far travelling-far
Cardiac beat of the railroad car
Hitch your coach to the morning star
Travelling-far travelling-far

Platform two a joyful crowd
well met and reunited here
the prodigal returning, vowed
to never leave his near and dear

Travelling-far travelling-far
Cardiac beat of the railroad car
Hitch your coach to the morning star
Travelling-far travelling-far

Platform three for stepping out
the first step on adventure bound
with heads held high no room for doubt
with world striding ambition crowned

Travelling-far travelling-far
Cardiac beat of the railroad car
Hitch your coach to the morning star
Travelling-far travelling-far

Platform four and feeling down
the wage slaves on their daily train
dragged unwilling into town
and dragged unwilling back again

Travelling-far travelling-far
Cardiac beat of the railroad car
Hitch your coach to the morning star
Travelling-far travelling-far

Platform five for coming home
the journey that we like the best
the voyage o'er no more to roam
and in the family's heart to rest

Travelling-far travelling-far
Cardiac beat of the railroad car
Hitch your coach to the morning star
Travelling-far travelling-far

Rhyme & Rhythm

Arrange some words with rhyme and rhythm
and you can make a poem with'em.
But leave the rhyme and rhythm out
and all your work will come to nowt.
For rhyme keeps memory alive
and rhythm makes the poem drive.
and so to let your genius show
let the rhyme and rhythm flow.

She walks in beauty

She walks in beauty through my days
and as she walks the sunlight plays
on satin skin and sets ablaze
a flame within my heart that stays.

She walks in beauty through my nights
with beauty that outshines the lights
of moon and stars and reunites
my soul with heavenly delights.

She walks in beauty through my dreams
where all my most romantic schemes
succeeded and my diamond gleams
on her left hand - or so it seems.

She walks in beauty through my life
and leaves behind a trail of strife.
The truth that cuts me like a knife.
That she is someone else's wife.




With thanks to Lord Byron for the theme.

My other half

You know I sigh for you
I even cry for you
Sometimes I pray to God up in the sky for you

          Cause you're the one for me
          The other half of me
          You are the other half that makes the whole of me

My heart I give for you
My life I live for you
All your bad habits I'd gladly forgive for you

          Cause you're the one for me
          The other half of me
          You are the other half that makes the whole of me

So I would fly for you
So very high for you
All earthly bonds of gravity untie for you

          Cause you're the one for me
          The other half of me
          You are the other half that makes the whole of me
          You are the better half that makes the best of me

Breathing

Breathing, how do we begin it?
In, out, twenty times a minute.
The reason for this life we share?
more I hope than recycling air.

Hot, Dry, Still.

It's Hot, and from the brazen sky, the sun
beats down so hard upon the anvil ground.
The soundtrack by ten million crickets sung
of heat reflected off a wall of sound.

It's Dry and in the sky no hint of cloud
no stately ships to sail the sun's domain.
No rain falls on the ground so freshly ploughed
no rain until the seasons turn again.

It's Still. The only motion is the haze
that roars up from this crematory plain.
No creature dares the sun. All nature stays
at rest till restless night falls once again.

But nothing lasts forever and the fall
will come and change the weather for us all.

Red Ink

Self hatred scribed on flesh with blood red ink.
My cry for sympathy so plain to see,
that no-one sees, and so I eat and drink
self hatred. Scribed on flesh with blood red ink,
a message that I send to make you think
in letters big and bold. A bloody plea.
Self hatred scribed on flesh with blood red ink,
my cry for sympathy so plain to see.

Starbucks

I thought I wanted coffee, I thought I wanted black.
I knew I should have decaf, according to the quack.
So I went on down to Starbucks to drink some coffee there
and was instantly defeated when I read the bill of fare.

For Starbucks don't sell coffee, at least not by that name,
and a chocca-mocha-latté is somehow not the same.
Black's now 'Americano' and a large is 'Vente' so
An Americano, Vente, decaf please, to go.

Then they ask me what my name is! So what's that all about?
Is this the latest info that Big Brother's checking out?
so I said it's Winston Smith and the Barista gave a look
that said she was familiar with Orwell's little book.

But I got my cup of coffee although by another name
and thought...
No matter how we change things everything remains the same.



Written while drinking a Vente Americano Decaf in Starbucks, Basingstoke.