I remember a biblical and doomed August;
Long frenzied days of fire and drought.
Then vast plagues of ladybirds, swarming,

Whilst we idled on holiday, descending
Starved upon sleepy Lincoln seaside towns,
Upon that squealing spinster in Skegness

Rash in her bright sunflower yellow dress;
To see crazed arms slap at infested space,
Bolting like swine through Gerasene tombs.

Safe indoors, we scoffed tepid ice cream,
Spying red faced men wander dazed
A lorn North Parade, to sweep, to shovel,

Where is justice
when Rohingya bleeds
in the cruel grip
of hatred's breed?

The loss of humanity
brings tears to my eyes
as faces of despair
replaced the silent cries.

Where is justice
when Paris was tainted by blight
with the murder of innocents
mercy forsaken, sanity denied?

Regardless of race and religion,
people have rights
to live in peace and harmony,
free from plight.

Thinking of creating
a MASTERPIECE...
A voice spoke loudly

Think not of stars of the galaxy
you are not even on the Earth
worth the least
wow you have the guts
of creating Masters piece
machine gun yourself first
and
just be a piece
what of MASTER PIECE
think Lovedly ye

Houses bear with a certain solitude-
Windows stare with eyeless black
Boards are washed, a timeless servitude
They house the dead, but do they know
The living looking back?

Pale in the vale of sun-stripped stalks,
Out in the windless woods walked
Those penniless pitiful few-
Who eked out a life here
For a year or two

And now, in the scraping interlude
Between silent cars and wind gusts through
Sits I, mock monarch to survey,
The kingdom of rooks and slow decay

Lampooning accent
Less important than intent
And right to dissent

It is an unusually bright 
afternoon.
Sun goes right through
 all the bare branches 
and through the roofs.

It fills up my room
with dancing particles of dust.
I am back from the forest
still breathing hard;
my cheeks burn.

I saw a half-frozen creek
surrounded by white ornament 
of half-melted snow, and ducks 
busily burrowing into the silt
heads down, showing
their butts and tips of the wings.

In the lonely hours.
When Dark Shadows surrounds me.
And Burning goosebumps emerge.
I see that image again.
On the broken mirror, beside my lamppost.
Her hair dripping wet.
Watching my portrait all day,
Like Crystalline reflections.
I skipped a breathe, and watched.
Being swiftly chased,
Down the dark alley into a pit of echoing voices.
I screamed, but there was no one there.
So I asked you?
Can I lay by your side.

Ode To P.T.S.D.

When hope is but a memory
of things that were not meant to be
frozen in a frame of mind
that sanity has left behind

days seem long and full of pain
a never-ending acid rain
eating at your very soul
until it is no longer whole

Who knows where we go to when we die?
Who knows where our soul will travel to?
Who knows if heaven or hell exist-
Or just a lullaby to make us sleep.

He said hell or heaven
ten virgins for my soul
he said blah blah blah.

Mama said have faith
The preacher said have faith
Everyone said have faith
Maybe I was born with no faith.

Let every man do their own
Jesus, Allah, Budha, Pagan do your own
Let me drink water and drop cup
For the land can contain us.