RAVENHEART: Recent Episodes
Steven Richardson
I have been scratching scribe to script and burning tallow onto table in order to bring you a fabulously free A to Z of poetry.
A short song I wrote about the monster munch crisps as a love song I did it whilst riding aboard a train the 11.34 from Bicester to London Marylebone station 12.38 recorded in two takes outside McDonald's in double quick time.
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Thinking back to my parents fate it's hard to see how they once did romantically pass through the eden gate into the land of milk and money where they fell hopelessly in love and felt the urge to passionately procreate , after which they wore the mortgage mask that twenty five year servile task eventually paying back the bank managers seven percent overdraft , they scrimped and scrapped in a steel city strife an then this beleaguered husband and wife decided to search out a big world party and a brand new life , they both sat before a monk faced magistrate who annulled their vows of matrimony awarding one spouse the house and the other a monthly allowance of alimony, Friends and family did try to console and commiserate all in vain an far too late due to both parties now having hearts made of suede and heads full of hate .
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Every night I ask the women at my local shop what has been happening I usually get same boring response from a middle class mind full of meandering mediocrity then I tell her she can lie to save us both the boring reply.
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A song for a love honey we called Ann Summers due to her working there, she asked me for a birthday card poem and caused me a writer's block which when I tried to explain she cursed me a look of pure disdain , so I wrote this along the lines of a frigid flustering fool that she'd doubtless be serving at the Ann summers shop. Katie looks at all men with indifference and always takes fun from them , Bravo darling it's all we deserve.
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A poem written for a sibling son whose quest for frolic and fun wedge hatred in-between his brothers love by what he'd gone and done , it's difficult to understand the parable of the prodigal son especially if you're looking through the eyes of the other hard working one who through restraint and strive hath managed with diligent life toiled and tilled the farm in order to fill empty bellies and winter barn now back without a crumb returns the squandering sibling pun doubtless to take the family fortune for yet another hit an run better remember this of the prodigal son who fritted away everything from dad and mum let him now work to the rise and fall of a burning sun whilst you yourself seek out some frolic an fun--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
Legend has that the Robin gained his red breast from pulling the thorns out of the crown of Jesus at his crucifixion to ease his suffering--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A speech I wrote for a dear friend of mine who to me will always be the last bohemian fugitive, an artist for more than 65 years a very impressive figure who change my life for the better with his mindful mentoring.
A little tune i wrote for James who's very devout in his religion each Sunday we usually have a long discussion with him trying to convert me to his Christianity and me remaining with my humble hallowed humanity both of us respectful of each others theistic thoughts.
A song I wrote for Nina in lock down with covid and the kids a little soft swing Whilst you do your thing hell what else do you do whilst in Morrisons café.
A song about emperors and kings who believe themselves to be the devine demagoguery If a devine deity did arrive on planet earth these mobsters and megalomaniacs would see them quickly murdered .
A poem about an old rag and bone man who started out with just a horse and cart then after a life of skinflinting strife became very rich but even after acquiring great wealth he still retained his beggar man roots and rhetoric.
The Westminster war of brexit has spilt a lot of blood onto the backbenchers but who will win the feudal few or the milky middle class crew .
The Oxfam shop or as we call it "The dead man's drop" is an essential part of our high street culture we all of us at some stage find ourselves sifting through their silt as if stroking and smelling the scents and spirits of our past relatives like some lost and found bric-a-brac burial ground we old elephants come to rummage around amongst the bones and skin of our not so long ago departed kin. Unfortunately all the objects mentioned in this musing is what I have purchased and given away to friends and family as Christmas and birthday presents including many more objects d'arts or as most of my recipient's see them , jumble sale junk.
What was once a stamp for the tramp or cut of a criminal class is now adorning the faces and physique of aristocrat, royalty and supermodel chic .
Our fixation with fear is definitely here we're living like mendicant monk our decadent cafe latte lifestyles are all defunct , this virus hangs about us like the prophecy of Macbeth a new strain of black death this damnable covid-19 has killed what was once a hedonistic dream . Project fear is all we hear bombarded constantly into our ear, we've become farmed fish the human hen all crushed together into purgatory pen pellet fed by auntie Bettie and uncle Ben .
10
ENVY

The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives .
501
VOODOO

If ever you should take a drink with a witch make sure you leave the very same night before the break of day or the dawn of light by which time you might just find yourself in a very unfortunate plight of being subjected to her JuJu cat's emasculation bite that leaves you as some sort of strangely sculptured hermaphrodite .
1011
STAN THE MAN

A little Irish reel written in three four time it's about a person called sanctimonious stan there's one in every bar room they're like a voice of doom, a skull on a stick that belongs in a catacomb.
881
BLOOD RAIN

A poem about artist girlfriend who's Spanish African temperament could turn from being a soft mistral breeze that gently caresses into violent blood raining Scirocco that tears the blossom from the trees slamming doors and smashing flower pots and hearts into pieces washing them down the drain like biscuits in the rain .
1391
GRANDAD

Grandfathers are like old sentinels that stand guard over us in our early infant years , stolid as grandfather clocks their old heavy hearts pendulum their rhythm of life into our new born ears, a mortal metronome that keeps a steady beat to the timpani of our tiny feet.
2701
TURING'S TRUTH

The human hunter gatherer brain is so very hard to truth train but maybe not if you start using the new silicon scopolamine dream and drip feed it daily with some digital dopamine served up from our omnipresent Turing machine.
2561
https://youtu.be/pa4LUSsCGo8

This is a musing I wrote after listening to my father who'd been conscripted into the British army during the second world war you can quite easily see why by year twenty three most members of the military have gone completely mad with OCD its perhaps due to the cour d'esprit of the British army which has a relentless marching rhythm beating to the sweet spot tempo of 120 , from day one your heart soul body and mind are recalibrated and realined to the measured metronome of the military kind in order for you to keep in perfect tune whilst playing together in the theatre of war with the other synchronised members of your platoon .
319
NIGELLA

A song I wrote this morning for a girl who ran a grease box cafe in the favela , If cook's could kill then this greasy girl was definitely licensed to grill !! she's always standing by ever ready to kill your sense of humour with sarcasm or ease the stomach acid with her peppermint pill
3441
LINDSAY

A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her LGBT spirit and colour into our drab fifty souls of grey community bombing us daily with vivid wondrous paintings she takes with her an extraordinary feng shui losing her is like the loss of a perpetual summer's day , artist are the community take them away and you kill it's soul you're left with empty plastic people with tarmac tongues and concret
The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives .
The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives .
A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her LGBT spirit and colour into our drab fifty souls of grey community bombing us daily with vivid wondrous paintings she takes with her an extraordinary feng shui losing her is like the loss of a perpetual summer's day , artist are the community take them away and you kill it's soul you're left with empty plastic people with tarmac tongues and concrete craniums.
A little ditty I wrote for lillian's birthday who was born on the first of may now aged nine .all rights reserved
Unfortunately this was based on real life events within hours of a small miss demeanor involving a flood the Chinese whispers got to work and in the gossiping café's of old H-gate every transformation took place looking back it's quite amusing how things can get so convoluted with each conversation people love scandal
A song about setting off on a world tour in the late seventies was nothing like it is today there were no mobile phones or multimedia just the odd phone box for calls with your thumb and forefinger for transportation hitchhiking thousands of miles around the globe taking years and years almost a decade to the point where many of us became wonderlust with our own wanderlust , but we did become quite skilled in the art of conversation due to spending so much time spieling with strangers , way back when you had the safety of being completely anonymous due to not having any mobiles or media where now the new wage travellers are so guarded due to the sapiens surveillance of God Google and the silicone starzi Siri .
A song I wrote about the king of rock and roll it's done in the fifties crooning style . He was born into extreme poverty raised in a shotgun shack but managed not only to break out of but also to attack the musical apartheid of America he was one of the first to start singing the black man's blues , he went from busking as a bum on Beale Street to having the world worshipping at his feet .
A short ditty written for the god Google children who now speak in fluent geek , They say that the earth shell will belong to the meek I think they might mean the. "GEEK "
A short song I wrote whilst trapped in rush hour on the M25 you may hear a few cars zooming past forgive the quality , its certainly a highway to hell and your brain boils in its crab faced shell; at night it turns into a Cannon Ball Run a hundred and seventeen miles of MAD MAX fun with motor cycles screaming past like something out of the movie TOP GUN.
I say if there's anyone out there with good musical ability who would care to lend me a hand with these songs please give me a email as you can hear I'm only a lyricist. slr34@hotmail.com
Our green karma Queen casts her svelt shadow over we obstinate boulder brained beasts lighting an alternative pathway towards her spiritual sentient sanctuary .
I was having breakfast from a cheap cafe overlooking a piece of small purgatory where a young woman was living on the street under an umbrella in the shop doorway when suddenly she awoke relieved herself on a blue bucket and threw it into the street and then began begging from the passing early morning trade whilst I ate blue berries even though at the moment I am in poverty earning very little money there is always someone to let me know that am in paradise compared to them.
A song I wrote today after seeing an old Keltic companion I haven't seen for a decade a true blue eyed raven headed Bretagne . The Romans drove them to the furthest reaches of the kingdom so did Edward long shanks hammer of the scots who also stole their ancient kings destiny stone and put it under his own throne Then By the act of supremacy Henry VIII made himself a god figure to rule over all kingdoms , and so you can understand by what they did why the Keltic people feel quite a mistrust towards Westminster and why they would like devolution
A cynical love song . My Family members were 1920s dyed-in-the-wool Yorkshiremen who believed that love be measured in pounds Shillings and pence and behind the white picket fence was a work house specially built to keep wife wain or wench who had a value similar to that of blood stock and foul , children being merely chattels without soul .
A short story based upon real life events of my childhood at the time they felt terrifying but now looking back they are the source of amusement for writing. Blue bloods are quite simply mad !! , they treat normal reality as an inconvenient triviality , rules to them don't exist and the rest of mere mortality are kept around as fluffers for their joviality in what's usually a porno drama of pansexuality .
Two haiku poems , TEAR DROP shows how a Tsunami can start from the slightest ripple. REVOLTING, a poem on how if you distact someone with something revolting it can avert a revolution ie Rome's Colosseum or today's violent multimedia , keep the sapien sedated by letting them slake on sadism .
A poem written about a mafia boss who was born in Le panier Marseille the last bastion of Beelzebub , he then rose to become France's ultimate crime Capo Di Capo ruling over France's under world for fifty years before being gunned down in Paris for an old corsican vendetta .
A musing for a girl called RUBY a teenage dream queen that's been hand made in heaven to a cat walking cool talking size seven fully loaded and as dangerous as a hot stick of nitroglycerin she glares an glints back guilty as the guillotine .
A short sketch about a friend who was constantly in and out of dry out clinics and the Shrink clink where he would telephone us to explain what his psychiatrist was doing and then in exasperated tormented tones shout "it's nothing to do with the drink " he called his depression Belfry the black bat.
A poem for Katy on reception who drives ever man crazy by giving them a glimpse of the promised land only then to watch gleefully as they walk towards her straight into a paradise of quicksand .
A short ditty written for the god children who now speak in fluent geek and worship God Google , They say that the earth will belong to the meek I think they might mean the "GEEK
The last update of a human brain was in the mid to late stone age hence why we still carry the trait of wrath some believe it's one of the seven deadly sins whilst others say it be just a left over instinct from the sapiens savage days of survival .
The four elements of life, if we do not lean to respect them as ancient cultures did them they will cease to respect us.
Mustang men in middle aged look like mirages of their former selves , once they were war-faced warriors now they're warfarin worries , they use to be part of the night fever disco scene today they're scared of cottage pie and cholesterol cream.
A poem about the busiest train in the whole of Britain and Europe the 7.22 to from Woking to Waterloo a hundred million passengers pass through Waterloo each year which makes for some terrifying or tantalising flesh to flesh point's of view .
The Harrogate Belles Angels were a group of girls who rode motorbikes wore leather , took drugs and slaked drink but most of all they were stunningly beautiful and highly educated God bless them all.
We used to be such bonhomie brothers in revelry now like ghosts of the good Life we haunt past each other in the street averting a guilty gaze towards one anothers feet , the spirits and spectres have long since been exorcised by the big dry of sobriety which has turned us all into rational respectable members of society ; today we don't strut so proud or shout too loud , we just shuffle past with eyes cowed and heads bowed.
A poem about falling into destitution especially soldiers and sailors who you find in the beggars brigade of most British towns. How easy it be to cast contempt , lest we forget our debt.
A poem about a cherub child called Lily who arrived so devine and right on time to save us from our self destruction just as if Gabriel that had gifted to us his Lily shaped horn .
A poem for super tramp who had a very good cure for halitosis panting out perfume after drinking your bathroom cabinet dry.
A poem for a dear friend of mine who's charismatic appeal with women is so legendary that it led to him receiving a pseudonym of The Valley Drive Lady Killer even whilst laid on the surgeons slab awaiting a serious operation he was still able to twirl the attention of a young nurse who was at the time wet shaving him of all body hair ready for his open heart surgery.
A musing about the private member's bills passed with British Parliamentary pomposity it sounds like a serious aural atrocity but it's usually being diatribed by someone that's spieling through their own suppository .
A poem about a miserable old neighbour called stan who once had everything a palace and a kingdom but then unfortunately lost everything and was reduced to a normal man alas such a tragedy to fall amonst that of we the mere mortal clan .
A poem written for my father who was born in 1926 and now similar to an old model T ford he needs constant tinkering and maintenance to keep him running also I've done my best to copy his gasping Yorkshire speech ; born in the days of the horse and cart he started work at the age of twelve down in the mills on the east side of a steel river , he mentioned that not only were the steel dreys pulled by the huge shire horses but during the second world war they also used the might of the elephants borrowed from a nearby zoo due to the lack of trucks and the rationing of fuel , he told me for a boy of twelve it was a terrifying experience walking past these huge rumbling beasts that were stabled under the railway arches so that each time a train grumbled over the viaduct the massive mammals would bellow out their deafening roars.
A musing about a greasy spoon girl Nigella from the Favela , If cook's could kill then this greasa girl is definitely licensed to grill !! she's always standing by ever ready to kill your stomach acid with a peppermint pill.
A musing about my father's experience aboard a super cruise liner where he and most of the old Badgers contracted some terrible infection that almost killed them and this was before the Covid Cruise Lines came along, interestingly you can see how you could end up with a Marie Celeste .
A person who is cast in abject austerity remains of the same mind set forever even though they may have risen to a position of privileged prosperity .
This is a poem I wrote for an innocent looking girl called Alice who when tempered up turns into a hell's angel of malice she resembles a fairytale princess fresh from a folkloric palace yet soon as she opens her mouth you think she's been drinking from the poisoned chalice with her hands in the air she stands about four feet tall but after a rise through with alcohol she turns into a native neanderthal, forget all about etiquette and protocol this little tomboy is more likely to be found scrapping on the terraces at an away game of football.
A prick of our precious pride is all that's needed to derail and deride our sensibility into taking a walk back onto its wild side .
A musing about giving your offspring a strong polysyllabic sounding name something that will inspire them to aspire towards fortune and fame.
Paint me warts and all said Olivier Cromwell who had the skin of an old toad after his death he was hung at Tyburn then decapitated his head was put on a pole outside Westminster palace the parliament he'd spilt so much blood to put in place . I have used some archaic English which is still used in many Yorkshire rural communities to this very day.
In the 1980s Yorkshire towns were all male prowess, which usually ment attempting a liquid suicide of drink each night to show your tribe what a man you were It ended with some terrible casualties, the Yorkshire accent is extremely harsh at times and to most people I would think almost incomprehensible.
A poem written about the suicidal tendencies of snails thay started out as jellyfish swimming free in wide open sea so I can now understand why bonded onto terrafirma they may suffer from depression or suicidal Tendencies throwing themselves to their deaths under our feet on every garden path or rain wet street .
When you get to fifty something plus tax seemingly a sexy silver fox sporting those ashtray coloured locks you may want to forget about the fifty shades of grey and perhaps think of putting your sex pistols away .
A preacher man told to me that all of us come pre packaged with the seven shades of sin which are basically our primitive seven instincts of survival that we needed whilst hunter gathering on the savage African Savannah through evolution and ecclesiastical endeavours we have been trying to adapt our mammalian species to a more sacred sentient state of being ever since .
If your partner starts wearing black leather and reading Mein Kampt or Le Marquis Dr Sade order yourself a stab proof vest before they move on to Friederic Nietzsche and then try to kill you . For that crazy little dipsomaniac girl who I'll love till I die.
Old Colonials talk of empire its quite shocking how they used to think of human beings as nothing more than chattels not just the natives but also the white workers and soldiers such as my old father now 95 years of age he told me during his time in India just after the second world War whilst protecting the British Raj who looked upon him also as their SLAVE OF EMPIRE .
The reason the train left at a minute past midnight is because in Sheffield that time all the steel factories blew their whistles for the shift change and the train guards had to wait one minute for them to cease before they blew theirs , I left that Armageddon come apocalypse of destruction behind and never looked back the kids of today may need to do the same with their own silicon industrial Revolution .
All Medieval religions outlawed usury as a sin , profit of any kind wasn't allowed it still stands as a judgement against you today the road to perdition is going to be littered with alot of Gods righteous as well as the Devil's detritus.
The British boarding schools were without doubt what built the British Empire, anyone subjected to this kind of brutal cruelty or treatment could easily subjugate a sufferance over someone else especially another nationality creed which the British empire managed to achieve for a few hundred years each school had peculiar traits Eton used to be famous for its flage Friday where boys would be placed onto a birching block and thrashed.
For someone who's fifty something plus tax and sexually straight it's quite hard to understand all the new sexual genderisations that are now taking place but as they always say let love rule .
A short poem written about the money monsters in the city of London thay feed the needy to the greedy down on London's squire mile all the while with their wry smirk and smile hence why this rapacious reptile called Mr mercantile .
A birthday poem for NENO it's called Black Rod because for the first time in Britain's 1000 year parliament's history the position is now held by a women this spiritual and temporal appointment of power is long overdue for a changing of the guard the willow may look soft and gentle but inside lies her heart of oak .
Every experience through the innocent eyes of a child can be quite terrifying now as an adult even death is placed into a casual calm context your maker might as well be your baker.
The human hunter gatherer brain is so very hard to truth train but maybe not if you start using the new silicon scopolamine dream and drip feed it daily with some digital dopamine served up from our omnipresent Turing machine.
A short song about Buying power tools at the DIY hardware store You may as well arm yourself with a weapon of war casualties around the world run into the hundreds of thousands the body counts are higher than in most modern theatres of war.
A musing about Lord Kitchener who's Sabre rattling speeches come sermons raised rampant applause back in Whitehall and Westminster whilst unfortunately his young Virgin soldiers were dying by 6000 a day , he had printed into their guide books for war , "avoid wine and women" meaning french prostitutes , with a life expectancy of 17 hours catching a little pox would have been the least of their worries .
Every day the paparazzi serve us our sadistic sacrifice all flesh red an raw , no good being a herbivore if you read the daily tabloid's blood and gore , you've really got to be a proper cover story carnivore with the stomach of a toreador , let's face it the press room's a slaughtering house stable , and the editor's desk is nothing more than the butcher's table.
A poem about an angry old man who was released from his angst after he being given a course of oestrogen hormone therapy to combat prostate cancer freeing up his feminine side he's a much happier man now that he's let loose his lesbian libido .
A poem about a Spanish African artist girlfriend who's temperament could turn from being a soft mistral breeze that gently caresses into violent blood raining Scirocco that tears the blossom from the trees.
A poem I wrote for my father who was born in 1926 and now similar to an old model T ford motor car needs constant tinkering and maintenance to keep him running . I've done my best to copy his gasping Yorkshire speech ,he was born in the days of the horse and cart starting work at the age of twelve down in the mills on the east side of steel river , he mentioned that not only were the steel dreys pulled by the huge shire horses but during the second world they also used the might of elephants due to the lack of trucks and the rationing of fuel , for a boy of twelve it was a terrifying experience walking past these huge rumbling beasts that were stabled under the railway arches , each time a train grumbled over the viaduct these massive mammals would bellow out their deafening roars.
Growing up in a witches coven with all them casting spells over everything and everyone. I couldn't understand the stars then or now , they were always fighting for the Sorceresse's supremacy .
Her mother is always in a constant Spring clean dusting and polishing until everything in the house begins to gleam, then again she could be addicted to the smell of Mr sheen or has she been drinking far too much caffeine, perhaps it's something to do with the covid vaccine that's turned her into this dopamine drama queen, what about the lack of vitamin b12 is she missing the red meat protein she's never quite been the same since she read the vegan magazine, oh for heaven's sake someone please intervene and turn off this terrifying domestic terrain cleaning machine .
A short story based on real life events when I first ever traveled abroad to France and we lived like tramps on the street washing in fountains stealing food from shops as vagrants and vagabonds until somebody came up with a great idea of putting together the tramps brigade who lived on the swamp in cap d'age the next thing we were all assigned duties and discipline
A short story about crazy maniacs who shared space and spilt blood with me , you should never really put three bisexuals and an asexual under one roof especially if one pushes everything and everyone to the limit of their patience
A short song I wrote about owning a car in the swinging sixties which was extremely rare especially for young people but if it was a jaguar then you were the nouveau rich make believe millionaires the fake faux movie stars members of my family and their friends were just this usually their balloons burst into bankruptcy debt and divorce, too much money in young hands its like mixing desire together with hell fire . All rights reserved
Looking at my Godson Watching the Lion king I cast my mind back to childhood and when I saw a pathetic beast a lion that was used as a pet in a scrap yard chained, toothless, clawless and castrated, it died of pneumonia because of cold and cruelty terrible how we bring these beautiful beasts to suffer in our cold climates to become a caged curiosity .
Looking at some tramps in cider park I felt sorry for the poor starving pets as their masters swill down cider and they shivered in the cold , the musing is seen or spoken through a dog .
Every day the paparazzi serve us our sadistic sacrifice all flesh red and raw, no good being a herbivore if you read the daily tabloid's blood and gore , You've really got to be a proper cover story carnivore with the stomach of a toreador , let's face it the press room's a slaughtering house stable and the editor's desk is nothing more than the butcher's table.
Greta has an almost impossible sales pitch she's to demand that the incredibly rich dumped that expensive pieces of kitsch , they fly to the cop out climate meetings in their lear jets and show not the slightest hesitation of any regrets, her gargantuan glitch is to try to move these people towards the green dream of a beggars itch, but these dinosaurs who block destiny's drawbridge are mega rich and have no intention of surrendering any of their Kardashian kitsch. To quote Churchill sardonically, , "Never was so much owed by so many to so few".
The Westminster war of brexit has split a lot of blood onto the backbenchers but who will win the feudal few or the milky middle class crew .
Prostitution is one of the oldest professions in the world which was here before the four angels of Samuel it's about time the government took control of this sexual slavery let's face facts the chancellor's been selling cigarettes and booze for hundred of years they're both forms of narcotics best not allow the criminals any room manoeuvre better to take over all their operations save these poor girls any more torture legalise their ancient profession too .
We lived our lives like nocturnal belfry bats fuelled by drink our cranial crashes and darkness of depression were common place the only way to fight against them was with serotonin smarties and a daily dose of humour .
A poem about the rain cycle's continual celestial cleansing this perpetual purification of precipitation shows no discrimination of skin treating us all to the same asperging sanctification from sin .
A musing about an old friend who has now divorced and gone back onto the Mating sites looking for lust not realising that his old sex pistol has long since turned to rust , men of curtain age with faint hearts and feeble flesh really they need to be extremely careful I told one chum that his Bumble dating site might be better if it was called crumble due to the flaking dusty disposition of its clients.
The only true miracle that we mortal beings are likely to see comes in the form of our genetic immortality that gene transfer continuum better known to you and me as a baby, Throughout the humans brief biological history it has believed in many a different sherman deity an Divinity ranging from Greek gods to our present day Corpus Christi, But when it comes to the real miracle making capability then it's the female of our species that is graced with the life giving fertility. This poem is written for a close friend of mine who described the birth of his baby daughter as quite devine he said she resembled a blue Budda of death an then suddenly gasped and bloomed into life by taking her first extrauterine breath .
Treachery and treason never go out of season the gunpowder plot was the spy master's crowning piece of glory he'd managed to use the plot to catapult James the 1st from being a doomed king guaranteed to be assassinated into a national hero who united both Scotland and England into the union of Crowns a feat never before thought possible all by engineering a plot that was in its early stages and failing untill as an agent provocateur he coaxed it into a piece of political theatre using his mediaeval Machiavellian genius , Robert Cecil 1st earl of Salisbury was known by Elizabeth as the pygmy and by James the ist as his little beagle ,he also thwarted the Pope's attempts at a Catholic conversion .
Medieval doctors use to dress as huge birds with long beak's and feathered cloaks believing that the soul was delivered and despatched by the avian transmigration i.e stalk''s, babies , raven's omens cookoo's madness . To find an egg shaped lump of cancer that then hatches from its embryo into a fresh eating vulturous thing leaving behind an almost a dead skeleton could be perceived by the ancient superstitious to be the work of an avian devil .
A whale song dream turns out to be the squealing brake drums of a distant dust truck it's sound being distorted by the wind gusting through ginnel and garret thrown bin lids cymbal into that sensitivity sobriety announcing the arrival of your monday mornings anxiety.
A poem I wrote for a terribly crippled girl called Daniella she lived in agony all her life but there wasn't a day I didn't see her gorgeous smile or hear her wonderful laughter , she has a soul so beautiful the angels will definitely care , it certainly casts long shadows of perfection my own and many others .
Steve McQueen once said he came from the gutter and that he'd not done bad for an orphan boy . Every year he used to go back to the borstal where the bungalow boys beat him back into line he became head boy there then after a fifty different jobs from lumberjack, getaway driver, pimp and gunrunner etc he finally found his niche a Co star James garner called him crazy McQueen, Bruce Lee said he was the toughest son of a gun, and Robert Vaughn admitted he had what you can never train pure natural talent which a thousand years studying at RADA wouldn't give you The X factor, vulnerability and violence mixed with stunning sex appeal that gave men and women a red light late night hot sweat dreams. The photo is a mugshot taken from one of his many DWIs . Steve McQueen the semi deaf dyslexic kid from the streets he certainly was an still is an inspiration very similar to Sean Connery who also had a hard up bringing on the streets of Edinburgh it also gave him that cool confident charisma l to just be them selves and no one else on and off set or as McQueen would say the ability to "hold your mud”.
A musing for Lily's tenth birthday with leather jacket to match my own design of cause - mother not too keen I have a sneeking suspicion she'd like one too . By ten years of age kids of today are silicone valley sage a decade old an they're ready to fledge the family fold , far too cool for school they just let TiK ToK Rock and Rule !! .
A poem I wrote for a woman who lost the love of her life only to marry someone who couldn't replace or replicate her first love so ending up living in some festering union of hate .
The femme fatale overrides all of our rationale her swan song is the sound we hear as our love boat runs aground, the final pheromone is a scent of sulphur we smell as we slowly drowned .
A deadly sin this jade eyed Jekyll our secret schadenfreude that hides within waiting to hatch out into its true reptilian skin .
Carrying a vicarious redemption on behalf of someone else is a burdensome weight the preachers daughter still carries hers each moment of every day a beautiful quiet soul who was given the sin substitution by her callous caretakers , her atonement isn't due any time soon.
A short sketch I wrote about a Christmas bash with the Old deaf relatives cooking programmes and war movies on alternative TV stations with their daughter trying to talk a little sense in between both of them .
Emblazoned bright upon his breast he carries that noble heraldic crest , tis the colour of blood and fire be it a blessed response to his lovers desire, suspicion states that he was at the passion of christ , an there by thorny crown was blooded an blessed , is this why today he doth still sanctify the arrival of our christmas fest .
In the swinging sixties a sexpionage spy scandal took place called the Profumo Affaire unfortunately two of its players were amateurs and didn't know what the rules of the spy game were ; one was sacrificed as a scapegoat and the other Christine Keeler lived life under a long dark cloud until she died and all because they were enlisted by MI5 into taking part in a Russian honey trap for Queen and country which went dramatically wrong . Dr Steven Ward a brilliant osteopath and gifted portrait artist was demonised and double crossed to the point where he took his own life with an overdose of sleeping tablets the poison chalice , Baron Profumo who was the cause of it all retired in disgrace cleaning toilets and working for a charity where he was eventually awarded an OBE to pin next to the MBE and bronze star that he'd won as a military hero in the war . A wax statue still stands of Steven Ward in the house of horrors at Madame Tussauds a terribly cruel homage to say he was only doing what the British secret service ask or no doubt ordered him to do . The scandal also brought an Iron Curtain crashing down on the conservative government of Harold Macmillan .
Today there are approximately forty million slaves ten million of which are sex slaves, as like before these poor poverty stricken women are used as weapons of war I was reading how some had been sold for as little as a packet of cigarettes . Today in the west girls become slaves working out suburban back bedrooms cellars or even in the case of a friend from some pantry steps using Web cams they account for a third of all organised crime profits .
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God Google. A short poem I wrote about the neo omnipresent computer algorithm that seems almost all controlling and God like in its invisible presence .
When you get to fifty something plus tax and you're sporting those ashtray locks of the sexy silver fox you may be better forgetting the fifty shades of grey its time to put the sex pistols away.
A poem about an old rag and bone man who started out with just a horse and cart then after a life of skinflinting strife became very rich but even there upon acquiring great weath still retained his beggar man roots and rhetoric.
A musing about giving your offspring a strong polysyllabic sounding name something that will inspire them to aspire towards fortune and fame .
Back in the 60's heavy industry was extremely hard work the way the men eased their burden was with non-stop humour, today its seen as some social deride like a malignant tumor and has been so badly beaten by our political correctness untill it's become all but a reminiscing rumour amongst the elderly.
A short humorous story I wrote about a man who was carrying a vicarious redemption on behalf of something else a burdensome task which was only relinquished by his death where upon he was given the cold cruel truth by his absent minded time lord who tries to make amends but far too late .
Poem written about a various selection of Saipan's on a station such a cosmopolitan crew made from DNA glue.
The Queen of green has the monumental task of convincing the oligarchy to give up there Lear jets and super yachts, this mission of attrition to which no one will listen is falling onto the deafest of diamond earrings ,they think it's just a tempest in a teapot NEVER WAS SO MUCH TAKEN BY SO FEW FROM SO MANY.
I was quite horrified to read that the human is responsible for the slaughter of three billion aninmals each day , i wrote the poem in a pompous manner after listening to a hunter talking about his blood sports, he belived it tobe his righteous privalage to kill similar to royalty who once regularly pleasured their pallets with the flesh of endangered animals with some still doing so today after buying a licence from secret African auction houses in many of these poorer countries gluttony and obesity are seen as a wealthy status symbol.
Today the cardinal sin that we call greed was ultimately born out of the necessity for us to gorge and feed whilst trying to out run a savage predatory rival in what was the flight or fight of our stone age survival, greed also ment that we could sire and seed across a much stronger lineage to the next burgeoning member of our breed; later religion took over the lead and ordained that its newly found christian creed should be brought to heel and made to heed in order that it's gluttonous heathen soul be freed through abstinence and fasting allowing at last for its salvation to succeed .
A short poem about lust that seemingly deadly sin that if the devil be shamed and the truth told is an instinctive desire that we all carry within .
The sloth is portrayed as the epitome of laziness but this little arboreal adaption turns out to be a perfect green dream a hairy little leaf eating machine that has a zero carbon footprint and could save the world all on its own we would do well to put a little of the sinful slow sloth back in our own fast food life styles in order to try and save our poor planet .
A sketch about Thornton Harding the Junior's obsession with exotic pets , from a kangaroo netball team to a badger for the bedroom and an otter for the bathroom the aristocracy are mad one also had a giraffe dray and rode around his estate as a child on a giant tortoise.
As you get older looking for love is similar to rummaging through a scrap yard come jumble sale you sift an shake through the worn torn fragile and fail usually to no avail things are stretched out of shape almost befitting the proverbial grey whale instead of the once sleek male or female then suddenly there it is the right one for you the little bunny rabbits bob tail an together you dovetail perfectly as you'd been handmade by thomas chippendale .
An English king's breakfast could consist of swine flesh, embryos , fungi ,congealed blood , kippers, herring's, pike , roach various birds venison, cockles , pilchards . when thinking about the Buddhist belief of reincarnation wouldn't it be a devine justice if these gargantuan gluttonous came back as screaming red faced tomatoes in a vegan salad .
A poem come prayer for a baby who died at birth and never got a chance of life , if ever you've been close to someone who's lost a new born then you do feel if it were possible you would gladly swap your old soul to save a new born foal .
This is a musing I wrote after listening to my father who'd been conscripted into the British army during the second world war you can quite easily see why by year twenty three most members of the military have gone completely mad with OCD its perhaps due to the cour d'esprit of the British army which has a relentless marching rhythm beating to the sweet spot tempo of 120 , from day one your heart soul body and mind are recalibrated and realined to the measured metronome of the military kind in order for you to keep in perfect tune whilst playing together in the theatre of war with the other synchronised members of your platoon .
A short poem for Todd's forth birthday his name means the fox although the only thing I've seen him foraging for are lollipops from the ice box.
Her swan song is what you hear just before your love boat runs aground and the scent of sulphur be the final pheromone you smell as you slowly begin to drowned .
A poem written about my rolly Polly fat flat mate who lost a massive amount of weight becoming ever so serious and slim I've taken his place by becoming fat and happy obviously you do become the company you keep .
A short minute musing about infecting your friends computer's with a virus and how they treat it as though you've infected them with a sexually transmitted STD .
A song I wrote to commemorate the courage of Christine the first transexual beauty queen who back in 1953 decided bravely to have her gender reassigned to its rightful sexuallity in order that she may be set free from the burden of having to live with her very unwanted masculinity. but it would be a long haul from the first roll of that snowball before the gay community finally made they're stand for equality at the pub we now know as stonewall.
A musing about a talkative taxi driver who would insist on talking about his part time profession as a slaughter men come taxi-dermist my frightfully far back friend and I were able to see and smell the blood by the end of our short journey .
A musing about the Boer war ,whilst tens of thousands were dying of disease and starvation because of lord kitchener's scorched earth policy he was heartbroken about losing his pet starling thank heavens he's not here to sort out the coronavirus .
We watch the bloodstained refugee whilst sitting at home with wine and a takeaway TV , What is happening in Ukraine is yet another terrible tragedy President Putin and America with allies recently reduced the middle East to ruins displacing tens of millions of refugees another tyrannical war game any of us with half a brain can see that it's the blood of the innocent yet again that is spilling down the drain !! .
A poem written for a sibling son whose quest for frolic and fun wedge hatred in-between his brothers love by what he'd gone and done , it's difficult to understand the parable of the prodigal son especially if you're looking through the eyes of the other hard working one who through restraint and strive hath managed with diligent life toiled and tilled the farm in order to fill empty bellies and winter barn now back without a crumb returns the squandering sibling pun doubtless to take the family fortune for yet another hit an run better remember this of the prodigal son who fritted away everything from dad and mum let him now work to the rise and fall of a burning sun whilst you yourself seek out some frolic an fun
A song I wrote in the old music hall traditiion of two verse chorus which is similar to the church stanza chorus stanza chorus I've also sang it in the baritone barber shop of a beggers opera style like that of my father who born in 1925 still bursts into song similar to a Mississippi minstrel .
The booze has dammed the soul of many a Keltic kin once upon a life time ago we were the Gunga Din.
A song I wrote for a crazy young girl who's beauty could have caused Aphrodite to scream a blue rage of jealously and it was fairly obvious to see her maker man was OCD and once you're under her spell you just can't break free . all rights reserved.
A short song I wrote for my god children who love to alternate things to risky rhetoric especially in cartoons and almost all things their word play being a speciality children always push the boundaries of imagination and give chancy candid connotations as if they're the most natural notions of naivety. . , all rights reserved.
Upon seeing a cold cadaver staring back people begin to timidly tread in fear of the dead circling round as though it be some spectral apparition of dread .
This is a song i wrote about the catastrophic creations cause through having too much cosmetic surgery leaving so many a patient in the perpetual state of a reconstructive purgatory the surgeons are called the picasso's of the plastique, well they certainly end up with a foot an mouth or a tongue-in-cheek , they sculpture and scalpel at something that once started out as the face of the fantastic but by the final phase come cut you're left with a gargoyle freak. All rights reserved.
It's very difficult to understand the parable of the prodigal son but you must not forget what you're dealing with is someone just above a bowery Street bum , who will squander everything and leave you in distress and destitution then they will move on to find more money to squander on piss and prostitution.
William marwood's long drop solution, brought about a revolution in the British Empires approach for delivering and dispatching a more humane method of execution .
I wrote this little ditty after listening to a dear friend who's a lay preacher telling me that i may not be entering into the kingdom of heaven , i answered by stating that i did not want to go to heaven and he asked why surprised stating did i want to go to hell ? , i mentioned i would be quite happy to remain in limbo or purgatory rather than enter into the either where billions upon billions of souls from our past bitter waring human beings would be residing ; after experiencing the enormous divide that we have on this small mad mud island called Britain i really couldn't think of anything worse than to be crushed into a garden of eden with ever so many more people than there are here unless of course that their cantankerous contemptuous souls had been completely cleansed of all human trace in heaven's giant launderette , I have visions of souls on coat hangers totally transparent similar to the plastic covers at the dry cleaners.
A short poem about how AI artificial intelligence is now learning from other Ai algorithms using the deep learning techniques then competing against each other in the AGi' tournament what with all the different i's ranging from sci-fi ,WiFi ,hi-fi , to the secret service abbreviations of SI FBI CIA MI5 MI6 let's hope the deep learning machines know the difference between so many different i's an don't the biblical vindictive lexicon of taking "An eye for an (i) The poem is written in' haiku 5 7 5 syllable continuous which is probably more to an Ai's algorithmic programmed personality.
A song I wrote whilst looking at the selection of sapiens on a train station I was wondering if we mixed all of them together as if they were paint in a garden shed, would we all end up resembling some khaki olive coloured bread or maybe a DNA glue that resembles a fudge fondue . All rights reserved
A short poem written about the savagery Of humans towards mother nature scaring her face with our callous hands of cruelty but she will soon shake we tiresome fleas into infinity to once again reclaim her beauty.
Walking into a very expensive veggie vegan boutique i listened to the sermon of a spiritual salesman it felt as if you we're about to sign papers of adoption the high priest of the Celtic druids absolutely worshipped his wild woodland produce , I got the uneasy feeling that my blood was going to be sacrificed under the oak tree called Zeus after i touched a sacred sprig of his mistletoe obviously a crime punishable by death .
Le poeme en francais the language of love. Forgive my French it's been twenty-five years since I was there. A poem about love and women should always be in the feminine form hence why I use La poeme instead of Le masculine ,it sounds and lends it's self much more to L'amour which of course can be masculine in the singular or feminine in the plural. Entree L"androgyne et l"ambiguite'
A poem written for a crazy young woman who I fell hopelessly in love with during the summer of 1992 whilst working in the South of France aboard yachts in the port of Antibes . Together we stayed in a huge stone pile called the chateau Laval courtesy of Jack et Michelle Olga was a green-eyed goddess with olive skin and a temper that she'd borrowed from the dog cerberus , I was a dotting fool but hay to everyone who's ever suffered from the lightning strike of love at first sight or as the Italians call it "amoure a prima vista" or in the French" le coupé de foudre", all I can say is that like myself i hope that you've never recovered and never do because it's a beautiful feeling of being processed by the madness of passion.
A poem I wrote about the sixty three year love affair between a member of the royal family and one her dutiful long standing servants known as G M for short the old Queen mums cool companion.
After the third slave uprising of Rome a hundred thousand men lay dead on the battlefield another six thousand slaves were crucified along the appian way and left for months to rot as carrion for the crows also they were a lesson for anyone else minded to rebel against the might of Rome ; the appian way at that time was a freeway into the capital city . Strange to think that there are still 40 million slaves in the world today , Africa and Asia carrying the most at twenty five million , in the height of British Empire's slaving days it transported nine hundred thousand so as you can see this terrible trade is obviously still thriving and increasing in our supposedly modern and civilised 21st century.
Being at sea aboard huge luxury vessels is very glamorous and as a skipper come captain it is so easy to be wined and dined each evening by billionaires with the finest foods and drink the only drawback is that you steadily become an old soak, I worked alongside many captains who became just that, thinking back to a collision at night with JJ the skipper and a refugee boat he had got drunk with a stewardess and gone to bed leaving the vessel on autopilot the similarities to Titanic are on a much smaller scale but just as deadly , doing double dog watch shifts doesn't help instead of 4 hours you do 8 covering for someone or even the milk shift when you start at midnight and sometimes finish six hours later dozing asleep is so easy if the auto pilots on many of our crew used to come on the milk shift smelling of booze - sea watches disorientate you I've seen quite a few old sailors having a beer as they come off the first watch at 4 am .

It's about time the human realised that a tree is flesh and blood not just timber or a price of wood , these beautiful living entities give us shelter shade and our lifesaving breath ,without them we are condemning our selves to a curtain death
A poem for the king of rock and roll he was born into extreme poverty raised in a shotgun shack but managed not only to break out of that but also to attack the apartheid of America he was one of the first to start singing the black man's blues , he went from busking as a bum on Beale Street to having the world worshipping at his feet .
The Oxfam shop or "The dead man's drop" is an essential part of our high street culture we all of us at some stage find ourselves sifting through their silt as if stroking and smelling the scents and spirits of our past relatives like some lost and found bric-a-brac burial ground we old elephants come to rummage around amongst the bones and skin of our not so long ago departed kin. Unfortunately all the objects mentioned in this musing is what I have purchased and given away to friends and family as Christmas and birthday presents including many more objects d'arts or as most of my recipient's see it , jumble sale junk.
Krystyana Skarbek was a polish beauty queen a countess and the longest serving spy in Churchill's SOE with life expectancy of six weeks she lasted seven years fighting against Nazi tyranny only to be betrayed by her own trusted powers that be who at the end of the second world war with a stroke of their Judas pen turned her into a stateless refugee then on the day that she was flying out to be married and finally set free she was murdered this beautiful bravest of the brave femme fatale du Maquis .
My words may seem cruel that's because they are the comments collected from our café clientele who share space with these very disabled individuals , By the grace of good fortune there walk we .
These old sentinels guard over us in our early years like grandfather clocks their old hearts pendulum the rhythm of life into our ears a blood metronome beat sounding to the timpani of our tiny feet. #Poesía#Poésie#Poësie#الشعر#কবিতা#Poeziju#Поезия#詩歌#诗歌#Poezija#Poezie#Poesi#شعر#Poëzie#Luule#Serekali#tula#Runous#Ποίηση#કવિતા#Pwezi#שירה#कविता#Paj Huam#Költészet#Ljóð#Puisi#Filíocht#詩#시#Puisi#Thơ#Şiir#شاعری#บท กวี#Mashairi#Поезії#Поэзии
The macabre story about a great grandmother , who's ashes were made into a bone china plate by her broken hearted lover , the practice of using powdered human bone in pottery still continues to this day with artists such as Crow and Kraft who call it crafting Cremains .
Listening to these waffling old windbags wheezing about saving our world , who quaff down wine squandering ten pounds a glass and then dare to set the price of carbon at three pounds a ton and this to save your granddaughter or grandson ?.
Thinking back to my parents divorce how the lovers fate can change from the opening of Eden's gate that beautiful land of milk and money only then to quickly turn into a scorched hearth of hate .
When you're a teenager there's always one out of your crew who takes too much powder and drinks too much brew we use to call him the Glastonbury gladiator , funny but with them having so much testosterone and adrenaline they also make brilliant parents when they've finished with there thirty year teenage rampage .
Our green karma Queen casts her svelt shadows over the obstinate boulder brained beast lighting her alternative pathway towards a spiritual sentient sanctuary.
With courage commitment and Calvary these extraordinary women changed the course of history challenging the might of an empire that stretched across the third of the globe they issued a declaration of war and did something that had never been done by women before and that was to bring the age of equality knocking upon that number 10 downing street door.
Buying power tools at the hardware store ?
You may as well arm yourself with a weapon of war.
Casualties around the world run into the hundreds of thousands , the body counts are higher than in most modern theatres of war.
A musing about the catastrophic cosmetic surgery the surgeons hang Picasso paintings onto the walls of their Hollywood halls and also seem to be reproducing them into the flesh .
Written for and with the aid of Janine about the first transexual beauty queen called CHRISTINE who in 1953 decided to change his sexuality .
Some people have nerves of real titanium steel fear to them well it never comes near , where hells angels fear to tread these chaps run in on a code red . Looking over the shoulder of a passenger come CoPilot I noticed we were doing 112 miles per hour the driver had the audacity to turn and tell is terrified passenger to "stop jumping about you're scaring me to death ".
A deadly sin the jade eyed jackal our secret schadenfreude that sleeps within waiting to show it's self like a fat cuckoo , kill the beast before it devours your Love .
A prick of our precious pride is all that's needed to derail and deride our sensibility into taking a walk back to its wild side.
A poem written for a wonderful Priestly friend of mine who briefly became a fallen Angel but has since recovered his wings and started on his saintly angelic ascension once more.
A musing written for lily age 9 and her cat Sean who's got terribly fat of late getting himself stuck in his own cat flap due to having been neutered and putting on rather a bit too much timber . A new front door was also fitted without taking his correct cross whiskered measurements . Narrated in a Yorkshire accent due to Sean being born and raised in Harrogate .
What was once a stamp for the tramp or cut of a criminal class its now adorning faces and physique of aristocrat royalty and supermodel chic .
Another crazy sketch about the life of Thornton Harding the junior an aristocrat who's mad about his pets , he calls them by the strangest names, such as his dog , Greyfriars Warton Benson who i might add is allowed to do anything .
Blue September skies signals the end of Summer's lease the autumn equinox in one day changes everything tilting time and tugging tide , it's as though our seasons of life has suddenly died .
Setting off on a world tour in the late seventies was nothing like today there were no mobile phones or multimedia just the odd phone box for telephonic communication and your thumb and forefinger for transportation. Hitchhiking thousands of miles around the globe taking years and years almost a decade to the point where many of us became wonderless but very skilled in the art of conversation.
The crisis of covid-19 has caused devastation around the world it almost feels apocalyptic political pretension, monopoly money trillions of dollars in quantitative easing followed by dauntless a fiscal freezing but this be nothing new. The Bank Of England was built from financial failures issuing what were called "Consols" in 1743 obviously to console the soul of the then terrified investor.
A musing about walking into the old post office Harrogate which was like stepping back into another time, fall out of sync and you'd risk quickly brought back in to line as though you had committed a serious crime , their red imaginary line had long since been shuffled away by shoe and the wear of time.
A poem about lord Kitchener's sabre rattling speeches come sermons his soldiers were dying at the rate of 6000 a day aged between 16-18, he had printed into their war guide books that they must avoid wine and women meaning prostitutes and booze with a life expectancy of 17 Hours catching a little pox would have been the least of their worries.
Blue bloods are quite simply mad !! , they treat normal reality as an inconvenient triviality rules to them don't exist and the rest of the mere mortality is kept around as fluffers for their joviality in this pansexuality porno-drama .
A musing about road rage and how it affects all of us simmer the sapien inside a tin can especially in a traffic jam inside and they quickly revert back to the primitive even your little old Gran.
8 am at Witherspoon's pub and all the high functioning alcoholics start a day with a libation of liquid sin within their cream coloured Celtic skin once beat the heart of Gunga Din .
Covid 19 as seen through the eyes of a squirrel watching them fighting for scraps from the dustbins whilst under lock down ,they appear so confident and carefree without us , I think possibly the only thing they've missed about our absence is the leftover Ben and Jerry's ice cream .
An English king's breakfast could consist of swine flesh, various embryos fungi ,congealed fried blood , kippers, herring's, pike , roach snipe bird, woodcock, venison, cockles and pilchards . Thinking about the Buddhist belief of reincarnation wouldn't it be a devine justice if these gargantuan gluttons came back as red tempered tomatoes screaming loudly from a vegan's salad .
A musing about an artist girlfriend from Barcelona Spain , I couldn't understand what she ment by the spiritual suffragette sacrifices love and life for art , I thought her pompous and pretentious born by the silver spoon. Now after 5 months of lockdown living as a mendicant monk in my own cell of solitary confinement I'm beginning to understand her state of mind .
Two haiku poems , TEAR DROP shows how a Tsunami can start from the slightest ripple. REVOLTING, a poem on how if you distact someone with something revolting it can avert a revolution ie Rome's Colosseum or today's violent multimedia .Sedate the sapiens savagery and let the status quo grow .
A poem for NENO who used to be a traveller with winged feet up untill Gabriel gifting her a daughter with the same name as his immortal horn the beautiful Lily .
A musing about our Star Trek scientists who make it sound like our intergalactic fate is just a walk to the subway or through a nearby subatomic Stargate .
The human hunter gatherer brain is so very hard to truth train but maybe not so using the new silicon scopolamine dream.
Love is like a jumble sale some thing can seem so old worn threadbare, out of style untill you try it on then you find it fits perfectly and is still very much in fashion.
A poem about a very beautiful woman Claudia who's powerful persona rolled and ricocheted around us like a midnight thunder.
If ever you have a drink with a witch make sure you leave that very night because by the morning you may find yourself wet shaved of every hair and tied naked to a gravestone with a juju cat purring out your name .
A poem about the complacency of people when you mention the world temperature rise of Two Degrees , you may as well be talking about Two Cream Tea's , Let's hope covid 19 will wake up our world leaders !!.
A musing about many of my friends and relative's who should never have entered into a relationship due to their personalities and persuasions being completely different, fortunately we now have the internet and super computers to marry our sexual selections together .
a musing about an artist girlfriend and her crazy cultural crew, their works of art or gestation periods of genius seem to take as long as those of a real pregnancy .
In the swinging sixties to owned a car it was rare but if it be a jaguar then you were the young nouveau rich fake faux millionaires and make believe movie stars as were members of my friends and family usually their balloons burst in bankruptcy debt and divorce too much money in young hands is playing with fire.
Middle aged men and their midlife crisis all dreaming of blood lining a black widow motor bikes into a hot sexual sun , so many of my friends have hit fifty and gone in Search of lustful adventure ,the male menopause is just as dangerous as the females .
A poem about the most famous outlaw's tree, a thousand years of history, through its holes and hollow , howls the winter winds of sorrow .
A poem written for two old Bohemians who through reckless behaviour in younger year did destroy the fragile entity of love , and are now left with just the ghost of her to haunt their old hearts .
A poem about ancient emperors and kings who believed themselves to be devine as Gods , even as school children they had whipping boys to take their punishment and guilt a Sacred Scape Goat for them to slaughter.
A poem for big Manchester Pete the hardest looking man you'd ever meet, a face made for a trick or treat but inside his heart was softer than boiled sugar beet .
The loss of a lion's mane is similar to that of a man's hair at it recedes they both become tame loosing their pride and prowess both these mammals are now out of the game.
The ghost in our mortal machine is a spiritual symbiotic twin that collaborative conscience sharing in sin from within our skin accompanying us from the womb to our doom.
The building blocks of life are made from nucleic acids , Lysergic acid has also been around since the dawn of time doubtless it would have been eaten by our early primate mammalian species increasing hallucinogenic and conscious brain capability hence where the homo sapiens may have got their jump start .
A poem about a soul catcher who fishes for mortal souls in a dream river. follow#art#quote#poetryofinstagram#wordporn#love#poetry#writing#wordswag#stevenrichardson5#wordsofwisdom#slampoetry
The fear is now definitely here , our café laite life styles are over and we are living in isolation cells similar to the Trappist monk our beautiful secular society is all but defunk. follow#art#quote#poetryofinstagram#wordporn#love#poetry#writing#wordswag#stevenrichardson5#wordsofwisdom#slampoetry
If only the West would stop creating weapon's of war and Revolution we all might stand a chance of returning to our once green and pleasant lands. follow#art#quote#poetryofinstagram#wordporn#love#poetry#writing#wordswag#stevenrichardson5#wordsofwisdom#slampoetry
A Poem about a lost love hidden in a silver box be the lettings from her dead lover in that moment of war when her passion ran blood red with amour . follow#art#quote#poetryofinstagram#wordporn#love#poetry#writing#wordswag#stevenrichardson5#wordsofwisdom#slampoetry
When children acquire language it sings along like a simple melodic croon then school comes along with its lexicon Lego box and spoils their tune .
IS VANITY A SIN?. OR THE SELFISH SUBSTANCE WE NEED IN ORDER TO WIN?.
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A musing about road rage and how it affects all of us even the elderly , when we're trapped in a tin can boiling we quickly revert back to using our primitive brain stems.
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Living as an artist's muse you can understand the expression of The Doom in the room ,what artist's don't realise is that there ego's can be so burdensome to everyone else and hav't to be in order to achieve ,and this is usually why their muse's be so miserable. Also whilst living as an artist muse she thought it would be a good idea to paint me using my own blood
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When you turn on a virtual assistant, Alexa, Siri ,or Cortana ,for the first time even for an adult, but especially to a child it feels like You've tuned into a God or Goddess of wisdom my God children have now virtually given up on parental wisdom and are now living in a cartoon cyberspace come Walt Disney crack house.
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The birds and bees are leaving the flowers and trees to join us for the fast food tease lapping up our left overs they'll hardly be floaty lite on the breeze after eating our fast food sleaze.
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20 years ago it came as quite a shock when someone we knew became bisexual especially after they'd been such a lady killer and then became such a maneater still what then seemed a big squeal is now an every day done deal.
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A musing for a wonderful women we called Ann Summers due to her working there, she asked for a birthday card poem and caused me a writer's block which when I tried to explain she cursed me a look of pure disdain , so I wrote it along the lines of if I bumped into her serving at the Ann summers shop. Katie looks at all men with indifference and always takes fun from them , Bravo darling it's all we do so deserve.
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