Write This Down Before They Shoot Me

We hide behind protocol
Concealing the value
And the impact
And the outrageousness
Of the truth.
It's not politeness or correct politic
It's fear
That stops us from
Declaring the obvious
Yes
The truth hurts
But a stronger
More resounding
YES
Says
The truth shall set you free
Free indeed.

A Christmas Story

Nick stood on the street corner in the freezing rain.  His soaked beard hung limp on his chest and his hat crept over his eyes.  He pushed it away with a sodden mitt.  He rang his bell and shouted: "Ho ho ho!" into the cutting wind.  People hurried past him, their shoulders at their ears, holding on to their hats: "Get a real job ya bum!"

"Merry Christmas" replied Nick as he rang his bell.

A well dressed lady bustled along the street, juggling shopping bags and a small girl with a candy cane.  The girl peered around at the buildings, sucking on her treat as her mother dragged her along.

"Don't dawdle Jenny!  Mummy has so much to do."  The girl took little notice as she enjoyed the sights of the big city: "Jenny!  Do hurry up child or I shall leave you here in the street."  The girl trotted along, jostled by the bags of shopping.  They stopped at Nick's corner, waiting for the traffic to clear before they could cross the busy street.  Nick rang his bell.  The girl looked up: "Happy Christmas Santa" Nick smiled at the child: "Happy Christmas Jenny." he said, giving her mother a wink.  She adjusted her grip on Jenny's tiny hand and bent close to her: "Come on Jenny  Let's go get some hot chocolate and ginger bread.  We can shop later."

"Yay!" squealed Jenny as her mother lifted her and hugged her all the way across the street.

"Ho ho ho!" cried Nick as he rang his bell

More tomorrow...

Pigeons

How do they know where’s safe to

Sleep, those pigeons?

Hugging the stonework

Bird sized shelter

I see the wind and know they won’t

Be affected

Sleeping and dreaming

Wrapped in feathers

More tomorrow...

Heart's Song

The heart leaps, behind a wall

Straining, aching for freedom

For cool fresh air

For peace

The heart shut behind a door

Jumping, longing for opening

For wide spaces

And life

The heart’s love comes near to it

Soothing, resting, relaxing

Joining the soul

With light

The heart stays in a pure place

Cleansed and softened, slow breathing

Calmed by the love

maker

more tomorrow...

Demolition Crew

Hugs break down walls, they say, so I cuddled the side of the
Clydesdale Bank.

Come Mr Tardy Man etc...

So I looked and saw thursday

and thought 'shit. It's Saturday'

and it's not like nothing happened

Oh yeah that shit happpens

day after day

week after week

to all and sundry.

Then comes the referee.

The final decision. The period . dot.

And this is where the bravery of the poet

the storyteller will force you

or him/herself to continue

and even if you don't the scriber knows

your emotions already

poured out irrespective

becoming a circus while your anger is

harboured

but

by the time we come around again

angry as you were

now you crave

an autograph.

Love Poem

I like it.

I really like it

when it’s me and you.

The simplicity

instead of duplicity.

You love me as I am.

And I love you.

More tomorrow...

Marianna Trench

Mechanical breath

From a wheezy machine

Wards of death

From lungs unclean

Medicated sleep

Too many tasty pills

All you’ll reap

Is new forms of ill

Sharpened edge on wrist

To make the veins flow

When you’ve had enough of this

Not the way to go

More tomorrow...

(To anyone worried, this is an old poem not indicative of current feelings.)

Frustration

The irritation
Of a tickly cough
Is more than the occasional
Barking bout.
The pain is mild,
the agitation negligible
But the anguish in not being able to speak,
the sore headed de-habilitating fever
That stops you
Prevents you
Holds you down
This is the real menace nay the terror of
A bit of the sniffles.

More tomorrow...

Cooling Down

The weekend had screamed past, snatching and snarling with its own
special brand of man made fun; forcing me into its attire that choked
and pinched, restricting my freedom. Yes, yes it was fantastic, damn
right it was but I puffed and panted for too long, took an entire day
to catch my breath then eased into the evening. Yawning and smiling I
suckled at the teat of a caring Monday that refreshed, replenished and
soothed. And I miss those undramatic days of solitude and will gather
more of this tranquility at any price.

Wisdom

"Never trust a man who when left alone with a tea cosy doesn't try it on."

Billy Connolly

Kerouac Insomniac

Coffee fills my mind with things that need to be unthunk and left to rest so I can rest easy and dreamy in duvets and feathers.

The caffeine courses through my veins like a kick of cocaine keeping my eyes wide and brain alive to everything and new things every second.

Try lying down and my ears fill with sounds of the day and imagined conversations play out their songs in a crescendo of noisy thoughts.

Activity itches to have it's way and steal my sleep away leaving me bought and spent in the morning.

Words tumble and mingle inside my skull clamouring to be at the forefront and brought to life by an overactive imagination.

The eyelids lie: "We're heavy now" but still they burst open straining to see light and life in the darkness.

Resigned to tomorrows tiredness I sit up and let the mind flow exercising and exorcising till at last it flops down weary and begs: "Let me rest."

More tomorrow...

Wee Boy

Mind collecting stickers?

Got, got need

Chewing gum with tattoos

First taste of aniseed

Mind a ten pee mix up

Came in a bulging bag?

And you had Tom and Jerry selling

Sweets that looked like fags

Remember Chelsea Whoppers,

A sherbert double dip?

The smell of fresh fired caps

Strawberry Fields by Candy Flip

Mind Vanilla Ice

And reading the Look In?

He man and Transformers

We are the champyins.

More tomorrow...

Still Hurts

Remember they used to;

Yeah, in the cartoons,

They used to drop an anvil

on some poor bugger’s head?

Yeah! And the birds would

all tweet round his skull.

Sometimes an anvil

drops in like that

on my heart

and nothing tweets,

there are no songs,

only heaviness.

But, like the cartoons,

in the next scene

I’m ok.

Hopefully.

More tomorrow...

Three Minutes

Henrietta blinked in the suffocating darkness. The noise of the others around her made her own cries indistinguishable and all the more desperate as she struggled in vain to make herself heard. She had been there three days although day and night had become meaningless in this constant darkness; waking and sleeping had merged into one endless nightmare.

The tiny cage that held her prevented her from spreading her wings and standing up meant she hit the floor of the cage above her. She was forced to sit and since she could not move to preen herself, she sat in her own filth.

Why was she here? What terrible sin had she commited that meant she had to live, work and die in this awful place?

Overwhelmed by the heat, denuded of the feathers of which she had once been so proud, Henrietta lay gasping for air.

Three minutes later she was dead.

In a bright and airy kitchen James set his timer.

Three minutes later he enjoyed his cheap, boiled egg.

More tomorrow...

Still Looking

Upside down,

they say,

I’m at forty-five degrees

and admit it.

We might get

obtuse later.

However,

someone with a cell or two

and lipstick

distraction

to say the least

the chemistry of

the old filler of

the cranial cavity

is impressive

when you’ve seen

the atlas.

More tomorrow...

Urban Myth

The streets were easier.

They had names

and filtered into other streets

and some had shops

or pubs that I’d been in

and I got used to the

changing seasons,

differing skies,

sunsets and rainfall

and still I knew them.

Yet as I write this

page is held down

by four fingers and a thumb,

innumerable tiny hairs,

freckles and lines,

marks and knuckles

I barely know.

And I realise

I no longer know that place

like the back of my hand.

More tomorrow...

Yesterday

Late again but will post properly later today.
"whit's the point in living somewhere picturesque if it's gonnae get
wahshed away?"
My climate coward friend may be correct.

More etc...

Murder In Bird Land

Their shrieks woke me

Screams from the street

I parted the curtains

Dazed by the sunlight

And watched the scene

Two stood so calm

As others raged

Shouting and posturing

Enraged at the carnage,

Their fallen friend

I saw them gut him

Then remove his head

Left it under a slab

Escaped with his body

Struggled, the weight

And still they bawl

Too late to cry

I went back to bed

Shut out the sunbeams

Ignored their cries.

More tomorrow...

Avatar

Just had an exclusive interview with James Cameron. I asked him what
the new movie Avatar was all about. He said: "I don't know. Beasties?
Want a cup of tea?"
Clearly a cinematographical genius.

More tomorrow...