I’ve known years
Where the sweetness
Went out of the honey
And all that was left
Was the tasteless jelly

When the grey clouds
Droned gloomily in the sky
And even when the sun shone
The song veiled the light

I did not know myself
I could not tell the shadow
From the candle in my room
And I lived blindly alive
Unknown by my parents

Until she came along
And tore right through the curtain

Have you ousted?

Have you ousted the totalitarian state?
Or did it trike the surface
You’ll see an island topped with white
And think it looks nice and wholesome

Evil like an underwater volcano eruption
The magma grow like a malignancy
Beneath the surface of the sea, disturbing, shaping
who hate it constantly for fear of inking

Yet it break the surface of the ocean
And build a democracy on ashes
And people are in awe of it newness
And forget the fire and the crash

And standing a mountain of evil
They build a hall to the devil

I helped build the pyramid

I helped build the pyramid for the pharaoh
My vote was my slave-hood
We raised it high up to the sky
A symbol of his god hood
We thought we were all involved
In creating a brand new world
But when the cap went on the top
Our vote counted for nothing

Time has proved one thing about our king
He was not the man he thought he was
I watched a grave robber steal his things
And saw his grey corpse crumbling

Stand aide

Stand aside
You politicians
Please do
What I say
The time has come
For changes now that
Love is on the way

Stand aside
You arms dealers
Turn guns
Into hay
War is ending
In one crushing
Love is on the way

Take off your clothes
You educators
Of the world
At war and play
For a new form
Of education
Love is on the way

Notes

I have been reading the magazine Index which is full of great writing. “Stand aside” I think, could be a song. My interests in ancient history and geology/geography and the bible have played a part. If any s or w is missing from words its because my laptop keyboard among other things has gone funny since the new windows updates pushed themselves onto me. I’m not sure about how these poems read, maybe too foolish, maybe not. I wonder about democracy and if it is all that it makes out to be.

The great lie
Have you seen it
Surfacing on the ocean

The great lie
See it grow
It covers the globe
Like a shadow

It grew in the heart of the primeval earth
Until it became earths greatest curse
It was gathered like blossoms of small pox
It uses arrows, swords and rocks
It controls the air space
It controls the borders
It hates peace; it loves disorder
It cloaks the mind with astral shade
It hides the dark assassin’s blade
It bocks the pathway love has made
With its armies from the grave
It unifies hate and breaks up love
It severs hands for prevalence of

The great lie have you held it
In the palms of your bloodied hands

I live in the fourth estate
But I can do nothing
God can do something

The forth estate I god estate
All the rest are nothing

Public opinion varied
Like ground cover in a field
So much public opinion
Denied and made sealed

Take the forth estate
Its easy to control
With guard dogs and weapons
with threat to your soul

and somehow amongst them
followers are easy to find
for waging war on their brothers
for breaking down the signs

I live in the fourth estate
I do not find it easy
Fighting through the garbage
Looking for a clearing

And if they decide to make
An artificial night
The populations of the earth
Go groping for some light

Without the forth estate
Without the common light
They must protect your freedom
Until they get it right

In yakin berg
He stood yakking
To the herd

His most popular yak
A stab in the back
In the dark alleyway

He replicated
His stature
In many public places

His best friends
Were all there
Stone statues
with his faces

Twiddling the knob
On your radio
Listen for voices
From abroad

Switching off the lamp
In your little room
When you hear
The clanging of a sword

Who would dare
Be brave as you
When spies were
Unwelcome guests

But you risked your life
For sanity
And you thirsted
for righteousness

This is part of what words are about
Freedom from tyrannical governments
With every limerick that you write
There is the battle of right and wrong

Get your official version
See it on TV
Climbing up a ladder
Away from likes of me

Ta ra da boom de ay
Ta ra da boom de ay
Deceived manipulated
From birth to clay

Reflections of reality
The plinth of free speech
Full of graffiti
As prisoners talk freely
In their minds
With access denied
By military action

The press
Was a frozen iceberg
Floating
On a cold sea

Melting
From the inside out
Becoming you
Not me

They took away
The village elder
Who kept things
Under control
And connected them
To the juggernaut
To the flattener
Of our souls

You wear the world out
With your grind stone blues

You wear out the world
With your wars
On your own
Or on foreign shores

You wear out the world
To the bone
And in its ashes
You will sit alone

My bones are watering
They are so tightly squeezed
I see the world turning
On a wind of worries

I ache
For words of comfort
But only an emptied skull
Have I
That once thought love exciting
Yet now beneath the earth I lie

As different to the flesh
The spirit is
It cannot be caught
Or hit by a fist

But few know
Or understand
that live and die
In this land

In the sky
way up high
you see the stars
before you die

We manage love
with used matchsticks
We see in darkness
with madness and fits

The badge man
Of Limehouse
I remember him
Walking into me
In Westferry Road
I suppose he lived
In the old flats
Off The Causeway

Every inch of his jacket
Was covered in badges
And he wore a cap
With many badges fixed to it

He was old
His eyes were shrunken
He didn’t seem to have any teeth
He was a relic
Of the post war
Anti-establishment
Rock and roll suicide
Sex and drugs brigade
That had escaped
He had never given up
He had never grown up
He grew into his role
Until in his old age
It was perfected
He was art and rebellion
When everyone else
Began wearing suits and ties
He began wearing badges
An individualist
With something to say
Who inherited his freedom this way
And amused his nurses

I loved him
I envied his attire
Such a rare bird
and Armageddon
Will never affect him

Imagine
They found him alone
Dead in his dusty flat
Like a Peter Blake dummy

They took his
Suit of badges
And un-picked it
They put all the badges
Into a card board box
And gave them
To the charity shop

Then they burned his body
Without honours
As another reject
Of society
Being pushed into the flames of obscurity

But not oblivion
He was the Badge-man
Our heroic urban myth
A visual sign
That said
You have not saved
Everyone
In your version of society
And you never will

Let us
Grow our suits of badges
And swarm all over London
Harmless and crazy
In this conservative and square
Sheep dip
Of a world