Poetry is my therapy

The room is only dark If you never look forward past the emptiness And search for your light.  Within a journey maybe long To dig through the tunnel To reach the door. On that rollercoaster of life; Every small step is a goal. If you look back over your shoulder on the staircase, You've already come a long way. One's box is only limited by the size of the opening at the beginning and the challenge of the invisible walls we build piece by piece. In the flow of time, one's dreams are worth living.

Life, for you only have yourself; The road is so long. A key to win one’s heart; Lucky cat 7 so many tone coloured walls. Balloons pop of forgotten promises. I ride the money train in vain; A poker game with a salesman’s trick. We sail the sea of many. Dark clouds circle if you let them - Over one’s head. A bed becomes a safety net. Hold tight with friends’ hands And let’s build that bridge of hope together.

Two concrete twins grow up Floor by floor. Paragliding, free-flying, The mighty soar. 2996 blue plaquesImmortalised forever. For the terrorism of the innocent. Two planes as weapons; Civilisation on red alert! Look out of the windows,The words, “Life terminated!” Shepherd the flock,Crisp the end, The thought of the emerging suicide. Tribute for the brave; Horror streaming inside. A lottery number for survival. The guilt of the ‘Stairwell B 16,’ Locked in a cupboard of memories. White flags, no surrender. American helmets climb the mountain For what awaits them -A black inferno of eternal toxins. Wake up world! South Tower annihilated within the hour, 343 water angels sleep, 71 officers - a rifle salute. New York shows the mournful laments of families. Hear the judgement, Snatch the air. All is key driven in twisted limbs of metal. A public art gallery; A sacred museum. Recovery, no stigma. Fabric stars lay dormant. blood on the table of power. For one proud

The Nazi network of punishment tax Where the flesh slave in borrowed time. A pencil so fine; Pigment-coded numbers. Tickets for the empty shoeboxes; Concentrated with blood, the butchers’ cell. An appointment awaits And the witnessed condition specified -Jew! Still the moment, Magazines loaded. 1.5 million children erased. With a Magpie's tail the classroom puzzle cast. A coward’s warrant for the SS insignia; Salute and greet the Swastika. Information inside barbed wire; Officers vindicated in their crimes. Deliberate, wilful intent, Powerful in hate. Ill and direct towers point, Volunteers for a perfume so ghastly. The thermostat roars in annihilation. Killed in liquid; destroyed, no exit; The pipeline is never-ending. No finish for the massacre. Indignant, the soldier. The eight tombs cry. A chapter and verse holocaust What a defenceless loan of genocide. A vacuum of indignity. So terminal the strike. The shower - private in sadness. Such an exer

A fishermen's tale in a book we dress in a carpet of dreams. Nine angels streaming over the hall Who drink the silver cup of loyalty. Songs lift the walls. That lonely traveller In a pew. Silent and forlorn. Families running verses through their fingers. So we cast with a pebble Life's ripples on a pond. Pick a star out of my pocket. Such an old door, confetti on the floor. Fairytales of dusty promises we made. Look at the candlestick so forlorn; With seeds of judgement, peg a page to Our hearts. Walk in two by two, an olive branch So many souls lost. Let fly with the wings of life. Painted skin Many a fold. Such is love, so pure in sunlight one's rose of beauty embers In a picture frame on the sideboard. Leadership arrives with four seasons; Nails so deep; the burden of so many Whose table is laden. We give with gifts and Shove them a drawer such lies flame our sins. A suitcase in Sunday best, for who shall trespass into the wilderness? Be di

The wall is white - our frozen exhausted breath. We wrap in animal fur.The endless bitterness Digs deep into our bones Glassy sheets of bright ice.  Our mood is flat, but with a purpose - On to the South Pole.  Everything we drag is the weight of our supplies  Ten fold to the snowdrift.  Blue lips and crystallised eyelashes.  Dagger-sharp piercing of blinding eye pain.  We walk, for no place to hide or seek We pale the inevitable at Death’s Door; A pillow of rest, The howl screams as we sleep.  New birth shadows our day We draw a judgement on a line - Every step is our last.  Hold tight! We forge a fearless tunnel; Steel to The Lord. A bitter taste of madness.  Communication is useless.  Race to the horizon.  The mosaic chapter of the adventures of 1911.  An unforgivable landscape Of the endless sea base.  Dream; first ticket of the four Only the courageous seek.  Beautiful pixies light the sky. Pencil to the notebook  A never-ending sto

A stream of consciousness  Within a bus divided by colour  An ethical mosiac of segregation The chains on the day of birth  a dirty shelter,hands beg for rice and water  We point to the window of hatred for their race  The Marshall fires the 100m sprint  One majority will win the track at the olympics  The rule of a horror film is dark in judgement  The hip hop rap of the dreadlocks  The dogs are fierce Guns and sirens  Doors are locked for the black are hunted  Red splattered blood drawn on the floor  A bitter injustice  They loot and riot in anger Protest as they march  Dear end to the photographs of the human punishment for the right of freedom

Sunday is a day I should dress formally.  The rest of the week is casual.  This white collar round my neck, With the book of forgiveness.  Confused farmers work on allotments. The caravan of the middle-class  are shopping.  With the cut of a razor, The forgotten dead flowers on a gravestone. We all eat pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. The sound of gunfire in Downtown New York; The clubs are buzzing -  The disco floor of sexy feet and knickers.  The broken glass, chips and kebabs At the taxi rank.  All is forgotten as we sit at the cocktail bar At the swimming pool.  Sweet lovers in a park on a Sunday afternoon.  The bell rings for Mass.  Where will you be when the Vicar says his sermon?

Oh set me free from this internal insanity! SOS - rescue me from this lighthouse of pornography! As the school lockers slam, Chitter-chatter in the girls’ toilets, The corridors of pitter-patter.  A bag of books weighs me down; I chew my gum.  A playground of chavs - All the same, so perfect; But I’m Morticia -I never eat much; I’m lost, nervous and silent.  Where’s my Prince to rescue me? He was so cute and charming.  As I look at my pregnancy test In the bathroom.  What will I tell my Mum? A single Mum.  I’m a young girl with a 3-in-1 buggy; Society of the UK. The Poundland Wonderbra With Primark, Matalan and Tesco accessories - I shop in Aldi. All with your iPhones;  The Copycat Generation.

The day the bubble burst A breeze awoke the trees like magic.  Clouds danced - a summer madness. All but a whisper, midnight in a bathroom Lights flicker. A glass crashes to the floor. Footsteps of a stranger... I shout, “Is anyone there?” As if there would be an answer.  I creep down the stairs, naked.  And flick the light on  A man in a balaclava with a 12-inch blade in his hand.  I stare into his eyes as he pushes me to the floor.  Rape, rape, rape.  No words said; just get it over with.  It feels like forever.  He leaves; I curl up into a ball and cry. I want my mother.  I pick up the phone and call the police.  I feel dirty, as I scrub and wash  To get rid of the memory.  My life will never be the same again.  Forever scared of men, How will I sleep at night? The sentence is mine For being a woman.

I walk the beach alone Just a shadow, looking for love.  The sea races back and forth; Dry and salty lips.  The sand is cooling, The breeze is tantalising  As I wander in search of ‘The One’.  We have the gift And the gift to make a baby.  So reliant for everything - Unconditional love. Their smile with such joy.  An inquisitive, innocent person;  They ask the most amazing questions.  Our souls as one mother and father  On a perfect summer’s day.  Sunlight dances as a mirage.  The perfume of the pine trees.  The sun is mesmerising. A picnic of champagne and strawberries  As we sit and lay naked.  We stare into each other’s eyes, Hands caressing each other’s skin.  The intimacy of love.  You feel every inch of me.  Our hearts race, Sweat runs down my face As we bite lips, An earthquake erupts.  A heavenly sensation of lust and passion. As clouds float by I awaken alone. All is still and silent.  The waves, the se

There is a place of hope On a forgotten battlefield.  The young draw their knives; Slash, cut of blood In a gang feud.  As we cuddle our children  A black bag lies - A meaningless gift of life On a sidewalk of graffiti.  No menace, no tears An arrow with a stare.  The feud is pointless. A shriek wipes the drum beat; A hum.  The black raven crows, The chapel bell chimes; The Grim Reaper knocks as we sleep. Death demands my eyes.  The judge says “Guilty” For I sin; even Satan fears me.  “I shall use you as I please  Down on your knees, whore! Worship my feet, I am the beast. You shall eat me for dinner.  I am the Master! Hate, hate, hate me! The pain.... Hurt me, bitch!” As I bite and scratch  I pull your hair; With fire I lust for the orgy; This meat on a plate.  The snake spits; Your fury is my wrath!  I lie, this debt is mine Of adultery.  I am the cheat.  White chalk for our children. The chair rocks as I

The heat!  I can fry an egg on a path in Turkey  On an August morning.  The warmth of a fire on a cold, bleak day; The feeling as I soak up Vitamin D.  The memory of the bath is soothing.  With a weeping willow all is joy.  I remember the colour of the everlasting sand.  On my finger a snowflake crystallises, Particles of mass shine down upon me.  A dry fire of ash.  Now life begins -  A path of ice is a faultless cover on a pond.  A Polar Bear wanders in starvation.  With a spring in my step I ride the globe of life.

Give me a Hand A point with hairs  It’s rough and smooth But hard within.  A microchip skin overlapping.  It’s cold but warm with feeling.  A fitted glove  It’s amazing with its multiplications Five, ten, calculating digits.  A gripping device, A kaleidoscope of colours; Pink, black, brown, blue spots Dotted here and there.  Taken for granted, Stretching like elastic -  A safety device With a knuckle-duster - A fist of anger! I recoil - a lifting tool. Time to say “Hello, It’s nice to meet you,” To the other pinky on my hand.  A bionic machine of instant responses,  A golden circle of promises and love.  I point to the sky as I grip the steering wheel And accidentally slit my skin Fashioning a cut.  Deeply I hurt with a plaster.  A means of signing for the deaf  And a touch for the blind.  Tom Thumb rests by my side  With fingers crossed for good luck.  The little one on the end  The land of plenty  Wi

Dandelion A wee wee of vanity Stings me.  A thorn of poison ivy, A strobing globe of light In the sky. A nuclear reactor of particles  Clocking as I stand motionless in time.  Tick-tock, blow away time We see a flat hat place With superglue of oxygen In my suit.  I breathe deeply for the rise and fall A mirror with five sides With a smile beaming down on me A man in white breathing carbon dioxide A footprint of endless art.  They rise from our kerb and  drown out rivers and Ducks leave.

The hooves of HedgeHunter - It’s bets on horses. Lucky with Songster;  War veteran from fields in Leicestershire.   The blacksmiths labour; The book Black Beauty.  Jockeys race as cowboys arrive In Land Rovers with horseboxes.   The ghost of Shergar -  Vets hoover straw in paddocks And the Lords gallop for Trooping the Colour.   Fox hunters bugle in protest - A chase against time with the bell from the Church steeple.  Ears sharpen my voice, neck to neck - Good news - Red Rum to celebrate! Godspeed to the betting shop; His finger to his shaking lips, With ladies’ hats  And champagne for their winnings - All at Aintree, As I go to a play called ‘War Horse.’

“The Last Post” by Rob Holt A German Broom in Bugloss fields - A Burning Bush with a red sea of salad.  As false winds Foxtail, Crowfoot wallows in mud And Lords and Ladies cross in zig-zag trenches.  Jack-by-the-Hedge peeps out at the Black Horehound, While Cats Ears listen for Creeping Gromwell.  A Bugle announces that Greater Burdock has won the Kingcup.  Scentless Gypsy Weed weaves through the Soldiers-and-Sailors To the Heather-clad mountain of Jack-in-the-Pulpit.  Hearts Ease as dead souls whisper “Forget-Me-Not.”

My home within a home  Is a fortress of blocked-out windows  And the artist Zorro.  The sharks knocking on doors; Just a wheelie bin for the Council, A gold shop of memories -  A buy-one-get-one-free Poundland With property ladders to nowhere.  In Fantasia Palace behind metal gates;  In Brooklyn with mud huts of the hunted of no plastic  The soldier sleeps on the streets , Everyone throwing away food; We scavenge on the Internet; An invisible place of mirrors; An empty bean can for charities As we sit in our houses.

London is a place to sleep  Say the homeless on the street The favourite place of the undesirable.  As I ride the London taxi to Sewer Street  To the path of the forgotten gold and rats -  No Pied Piper here; Just houses of forgotten gardens - A playground of children; The robot generation within two dimensions  Which one is reality? A suburb of let-out beds and clutter.  I scavenge for my meal and The microwave goes ping.   As I throw the cardboard in the bin outside  The man settles down to sleep

A 3D cheese sandwich in my shed  On my bed  As I float and see a Pot Noodle bearing down on me.  Pot Noodle coming out of my eyeball, Pot Noodle in my sock; I am sitting and watching Match  of the Day In marmalade with bits in colour  Not black or white  Not a game of chess Your move, checkmate  You’re not my mate  Just a plate  Of spaghetti bolognese  On a motorway in Birmingham; A jam sandwich with rats  And Kermit the Frog dead in smoke As I drink strawberries and lemonade  And watch tennis. One-love to Bear Honey; Come on, Paddington! As I sit in my London apartment The planes circle my roof  It’s exhausting, I can barely close my eyes.  The sweetest moment of the night has passed  As light kisses my lips

Sometimes you have to look in the mirror and say, “Is this me?” And sometimes many face their demons  As the misperceived see ghosts That fight the Devil that will eat at your soul  Until your lies destroy your strength, Belittle you;  You’re  weak, no belief.  As I stand on the breach Hanging by a thread, My number’s up; my choice,no other.  I awake as if I had a superpower.   I’ll be Mr Hindsight, but I know I'm the coward Who hid in the trenches in World Wars One & Two.  But I cannot just lay in my coffin. Life goes on - a journey on a path, As I fight for who I am To earn the respect of the friends I have.

The bushes lay dormant  And all is still, as a yellow globe peers down.  Rays of light say begin... Starlings move in black clouds And stage a performance.  Green stalks hail the King of Bethlehem.  A blue mirror sails by  As a pale green tide waves  And birds squawk in joy.  The misty dusk of the past is all forgotten  As eyes from a silvery trail peep out of their houses.  Sleeping nut thieves jump out of their bedding  And mosaics of colour shout.  Merlin waves his magic wand  As the Queen of life pollinates , Shaking to make a pill  That is a remedy for many.  From nature, white pearls  And bells of blue lay a carpet.  I sit on a pub bench with my golden hops  And a feeling of warmth  As I ponder the past winter.

This is to the wicked witch with your false promises - You'd better wave your magic wand and sort it, As the NHS need a massive injection of millions To support people like us. They’re just a bunch of pirates, Robbing from disabled people In their chest on a desert island. Every four years there’s an empty Christmas box Of promises from their party. I'm sick of them - They’re just privileged idiots  Who fiddle their expenses and pocket money In their piggy bank. I'm sick of their game of chess In a game of Brexit - Or they’re playing political marbles. These days it’s like they’re on a biblical mission In search of some wise men bearing no gifts; Or they sit around with stiff upper lips, Drinking whiskey and hope the country’s problems go away. Well this country’s a mess; Our little island owned three-quarters of the world once And fought in three continents With a little bit of help from the Americans - And now they’re selling it off at a car boot sale!

As a star rises the ocean waves in a new day. The mermaids’ retreat is like a frothy swimming pool As the pirates raid the sky Golden particles lie. Nemo’s Sea World looks onwards As the Sims go about their business    They frazzle and fry in brown sauce And leave without all their possessions That will lay there in time. Just another spoilt paradise As the minions tell their offspring Of a better future. As the pool of life suffers

The American smurf stands on top of his hill, A brain made of minced meat With a golden wavy crown. His zombies look onwards As he waves his stick of threats Of the Big Red Button The Planet of the Apes say annihilation With a push, all that has been is nothing As the North Pier creaks With its elaborate fair of toys Kim Ping Pong suddenly seeks a better hand of cards In a game of Poker. Who has the full flush? Life can just go down the toilet. Strike two for oil at the bingo hall Just a game; roulette red or black Place your bets in fear of the inevitable. I watch my TV in the hope that they have a conscience.

Off to the shop to get some milk With my shorts and slippers on. No top - I'm showing my chest off. Hello Humpty Dumpty on the wall As I walk down the road and see Peter Pan and Wendy. I thought I looked cool but Wendy’s your well out there. Hi 5, great dress code But where's your handbag and hairdryer? As I walk on avoiding creepy Freddy Krueger I spot the girl cute as can be "says her name Sandy" get talking and kissing, I look at my phone it's gone past 9 o'clock, I'm in the doghouse when I get home. Summer Dreams ripped at the seams On a council estate as Mrs Robinson looks in disgust. I dodge the potholes to get home the windows black out. Shit forgot to get the electricity card! I fumble around for paracetamols; I'm going to top myself... Off in an ambulance to the local hospital To have my stomach pumped. Great - I have no money. As I walk home in the rain I look in the fridge Some milk, half a loaf of mouldy bread. Mum kee

I'm walking down the street And see this Red Bull walking towards me He looks like Mr Potato Head - Just a spud, As I pick up the courage to ask him his name. He says, “Rooney.” “Rooney who?” “Wayne Rooney.” “Oh! What the hell are you doing in Leicester?” “I'm looking for a kebab shop.” I say, “Dial-a-pizza.” As he asks me my name I say “Becks and Posh.” “You’re not from Brooklyn.” We stand outside Matalan. I tell him me and my wife were the Becks and Posh of the Dominican Republic; We sat there drinking cocktails That cost us a pound - That was the barman’s monthly wage. Two wishes, three different realities; I know the four of us are happy with our reality As I buy a EuroMillions I cross my fingers and make a wish On all the black cats that have crossed me. I think if everyone won the lottery There’d be no-one working in McDonald’s, There’d be no-one to book my holiday And no farmers working the fields With no food in the shops. After I walk home

Go away fly on my hair - I'm not a landing pad! Fly, fly just disappear Here and there, Bloody everywhere; But yet again it’s there in front of me. With a zip it’s on a kamikaze mission for my eye. This is getting annoying! As I get up in a game of chase I have three choices. A secret mission, The ninja is seeking me out As I lay on my bed with no clothes on. The boss darts For my private parts I dare to swat it - Such a pirate! I’m searching on my phone For that new song As I try to kill it with a cheese grater. But I'm aiming for a needle in a haystack As I jump off the windowsill Into a bush. Just piss off! It runs with me around the corner To the bus stop. Thank God, For as I stand there freezing I suddenly realise I'm naked! Who’s looking and what the hell am I going to do? With a casual walk two old ladies are disgusted. Somehow I arrive at my front door And yet it’s frustrating - no key! With a climb of the drainpipe I find safety A

In the Hall of Hawking I meet a man called Stephen Who tells me that Pi equals 3.14159. Buy cheese, a jar of pickled onions and chicken tikka masala And a bar of Milky Way. There’s a place called a Black Hole - I think it sounds like the drain outside the back door; Just a giant plughole really! I'm not Isaac Newton, All I know is if I need to float I take drugs to be high in the cloud of smoke. There are some side effects but I'm addicted. Needles on the floor, a spoon of crystal meth; I'm an addict, I'll do anything to get my buzz. Steal, murder, whatever... I only care for myself, no other. As I watch this film about a man called Stephen Hawking That makes me cry for his bravery To fight such adversity. An amazing achievement - I don't understand it But he had a goal and achieved it, So I am going to rehab and wake up and have a purpose in life Maybe I will achieve my little goal And one day I can look back on it.

I'm lost on the Coventry Ring Road With my satsuma. I may as well be Mickey Mouse lost on Pluto. I'm on a biblical mission To find Three Wise Kings bearing no gifts As I look for buried treasure on a desert island With a stiff upper lip I knock back my Martini - shaken not stirred - I spy 007, yes, Roger Moore In his Aston Martin being chased by Starsky and Hutch! Fast! Get it on YouTube - I could make me a packet! I jump in Lady Penelope’s pink taxi Off to the press to sell my story, But Bungle doesn't believe me; He thinks I'm from Over the Rainbow As I wake up and look out of my flat window....

Cancer Soldiers are looking to erupt in a divided cell As ants multiply repeatedly. Nelson sends his solution of King Richard’s white roses. The soldiers withdraw to the trenches As lava erupts within Jupiter’s spot. I noticed a lump on my breast. I contemplate the unforgivable As I search for a diagnosis. The news is devastating as I panic inside my pandemic. I am frightened as the answer is Chernobyl. I ride the tsunami as I weaken. My belief is fleeting; I gasp, “My number’s up.” 6 months of cave climbing And I ask the question “God, why me? What did I do to deserve this?” I search for meaning and reason, I’m angry and bitter, I cannot forgive myself. Could I have spotted it earlier? I lose hope; I'm slowly drowning in an endless war And I know I will not beat this one. Every taken minute is a gift, I know I’ll be just another statistic. My loved ones are my rallying strength. I wait in my submarine and look out into the distance To be delivered to the

Anxiety The bungee jump is petrifying; My plane is crashing; I'm hyperventilating  As I abseil from the highest cloud. Heart racing, I want to escape From the parachute of life. As I walk the tightrope alone In a circus of insanity, I am glued to the seat In a sea of spiders. No space in my everlasting black hole; I'm freaking out, trapped in my prison cell, As I self-explode in dynamite. No silence in the library As I sweat on my sunbed For relaxation. I'm nervous and naked in the shower. Fast - dodge the bullets! I’m suffocating in a rush-hour tube train And I freeze inside an igloo. I scream inside, surrounded by invisible people As Count Dracula rattles on my coffin. In my bottle of self-medication I'm drowning with exhaustion.

Sun cream at the barbecue Oh no! I'm on fire! Fast, lemonade put me out! Great - I've got sunburn. Into the paddling pool; Smoking, so relaxing. I sit on the beach with the flies On the kiddies’ donkey rides. More sun cream needed; My skin feels like sandpaper Everywhere, In my hair; I rub myself raw with my towel But it’s still there, In my toes and in my bits! Now a wasp on a invisible string, I karate chop it in a mad rage “Go away!” I run for cover in the water, Shorts glued to my body. Quick, is anyone looking? Time for an ice-cream it Dripping off my chin. Oh God, brain freezing- Back to the barbecue For some charcoal chicken, Yum yum! On one hot day in Skegness.

That noisy witch of black clouds Whispers twisted mysteries. She busies herself in glee from her ice-cream corner, Her hollow Judas lips eagerly spring From her empty cauldron. A black crow lisps And secret snakes slither. The wounded bleed in seized castles As spies peep from Noah’s Ark, Carrier pigeons bring messages. Buddhas of forgiveness latch deeper With the throw of lucky dice. The haunted grow new seeds And pipe testaments As scouts look for answers. Caesar’s table flows with riches, Golden trumpets announce Morris Dancers And their white handkerchiefs billow on Ilkley Moor.

In the lemonade bubbles of a carousel I Google as I float around on my melting ice pole With strawberries and cream. I cook and fry in suncream; Within a sauna I'm boiling in sweat. In the Sahara I see a mirage Of camels, milkshakes and pop-up umbrellas, As my cocktail teases me for Sex on the Beach. The breeze of a washing machine, Fragrance of salt sea water l ride the sea horses As fire engines beat down on me. A fan cools me on my sunbed; I look like a cherry on a merry-go-round. I'm swimming in my Black Russian With the summer clothing of Michael Portillo and Mr Bean, With sun-kissed Hawaiian shirts. McEnroe shouts the odds As DJ Pete Tong raves, As I sit on the beach in Bermuda.

A cold dark hand slaps us in the face with such force over and over again As a graveyard of bears stand, mock and haunt us with a eerie silence. The groaning wolves’ howls get fiercer and fiercer.  In the theatre the brown and golden elves jump in a merry dance and skip. A single halo appears and smiles down as the scouts make their last raid. The freezer door opens and fairies begin to drop and lie in shivering silk As icicles spread their long fingers. Red Riding Hood flutters and hops stitch to stitch.  Marbles peer hail the hoot. Mirrors stream, Jack Frost creeks and squirrels at the land of lifelessness As he has the last laugh.

Sweet Lady Liberty of power, With such majesty and belief Of Madonna like a prayer With white surrender, Marilyn of beauty; And Mother Teresa’s gift of rose petals of Cleopatra And Celine Dion’s Titanic; The tragedy of Whitney Houston’s voice everlasting; Secret whispers of diamond Diana’s surrender And Olivia Newton-John’s summer dreams with Gracie Fields we forgive you. The forgotten Martin Luther King’s freedom And the imprisonment of Nelson Mandela. Bonnie and Clyde gung-ho attitude and. No surrender Winston Churchill; With Last Post for the forgotten soldier.  Who Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury And Gene Pitney Something’s Gotten Hold of my Heart Angels of Robbie Williams’ and heartbreaker of Dolly Parton And love me tender Elvis Presley With genius Mozart’s composing and Shakespeare’s insanity For the life of a tigerlily and ever-living orchid. And the bees’ gift of life As Gary Barlow’s plays million love songs later. I bleed deeper with one such thorny

I start digging myself a hole. I want to stop but I go on and on. Now I look for a invisible wet ladder; I start climbing but I do not get anywhere.  Deeper and deeper I go. Now it rains, then a blizzard.  More bricks as I reach out. cement falls, but still I fight With every bit of strength I have left. No energy, no belief; Maybe someone will walk by and stop me.

As I go out of the stage door I see before me a Roman amphitheatre With a half-crescent moon wall; A desolate forgotten place of weeds and dandelions. As the stage lights flicker the golden trumpets announce the arrival of the gladiators. The dweebs begin to mock as the chariots of fire race by. We stand inside a metal-fenced prison. The Royal family wave the show on In the long-forgotten Roman amphitheatre.

Why does a microwave go ping, why not ring or ding,why do all the worlds in the universe go round the same way, why are they not flat or square, all these questions running round in my mind, like slow little drips these poems and rhymes pop out of my mind, spinning tops and sewing boxes in my thoughts. I can't sleep, it never stops. All these questions and poems and rhymes inside the windmills of my mind.

A day out for the Bradgate Writers Unit at the zoo.  As the cuckoo clock rings out, It’s time to jump out of my coffin And put on my Primark suit. Down the apples and pears to Barbie and Ken’s roadside cafe For a tankard of hot brown soup. Then out in my space-suit As I skip and hop like the Michelin Man. I arrive at the farm run by the NHS; All the animals will be there. As I push open the hospital door To a 1960’s iKEA conference room With Mr Funny, Mr Silly, Mr Tickle, Mr Greedy, Mr Happy, Miss Busy, Miss Impossible, Goldilocks and the three bears And Snow White asleep in the corner. We all wait for the clipboard manager as she’s late.  Miss Scatty Head is never on time. Tarzan announces the arrival of Jane; All the apes and chimpanzees go mad. The Queen shouts, “Order order in the court, This is a library not a clown’s circus!” We all take our betting slips and Take out our feathers in ink. We write in Latin like Pam Ayres and Shakespeare. As we all stand up one

I look in the mirror of life And see a former shadow of myself; An angry, bitter, selfish former self Two sides, Jekyll and Hyde On a yellow brick journey. One side, two reflections within each other. Two choices in one journal, Two sides of a penny. As I roll the dice of good and evil Both stand on the same side, The decision will only be known When you open the door And look in the mirror.

I sit on the beach on a dazzling balmy evening, With clear ripples on the pond before us. As a fierce breeze announces its arrival, The seahorses are racing. As Satan draws his sabre, The God of Thunder roars in anger. The sky lights with such menace And strikes as I spectate in fear and wonder.  Darkness descends us as the drums cry in pity. As Satan’s tummy rumbles and cymbals clatter, God has the last word And the laws of nature take over.

 Life's a roller coaster right now am on the biggest up I've been on I've been on it for 6 months now yes I've had some really big downs in my life but here I am and must say I've wanted to get off the ride when it was very dark but I didn't and now I am in the light I am not going back

I want to be a bird and fly way up in the clouds. You'll see me darting here and there, singing out loud for the love of another. What a simple life it would be. I'm free, free, free; no worry, no stress small and dainty with a red breast. I'm not your project or stuffed model. I'm wild, I'm mother nature's creation, the red arrow in the sky looking down on you small, pathetic people surrounding yourselves with possessions. Just me in the sky, flying high, flying free as a bird can be.

On the number 13 bus we go unlucky for some, I hear you say. There's a young woman on the bus facing me in her wheelchair. Her head nods side to side with a sparkle in her eyes and a smile of joy in her own little disco world. Every now and then she screams out in fun! She's having the time of her life as her carer stands by her side. I look around at the faceless plastic dolls on their phones in their own virtual reality. As I peer out the window of the dark world outside, in my fluorescent-lit bubble, the carer and the young woman are holding hands. No words are said as time stands still for a moment of human love, caring and pure joy. The moral of this is every moment is precious in time. So let yourself go with such joy.

The pills, the pills, rattling in my head. I’m going to give up the meds  and do herbal instead. “Doctor, Doctor, I think I’m poorly” “You’d better come down at 2.30..” Prick, poke, blood test. “I’ll take your temperature and listen to your heart.” “Oh no, that’s not good, your heart’s racing like a Ferrari!” 999 ambulance, ambulance! Nee-nar, nee-nar, I’m down the hospital. Prick, poke, blood test. “Oh no, I’d better put a plaster on that.” Time for an ECG. “I know what’s wrong; here’s a happy pill to fix it.” Then I wake up, and the Nurse says, “I bet you’re grateful for the NHS!”

My Mum always said “You’ll never get anywhere in life with an attitude like that!” “You’re out of date,” I said. “I’ll prove you wrong, you’ll see...” But she was right all along. Now I find myself saying the same thing to my 13 year-old daughter And she says I’m old and out of date too! But I know I’m right. You’ll see....

Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down the hill So Jill rang for an ambulance. Super Paramedic to the rescue! Examine, examine, examine. Diagnosis, diagnosis, diagnosis. Ring for an Air Ambulance! Possible brain damage, broken back, Broken leg, broken pelvis, Collapsed lung... This is a life or death situation! Neck brace on, blood pressure taken, Heart monitor on, morphine injection, Onto the spinal board. One, two, three, off to the Trauma Centre. The hospital awaits like a well-oiled machine Where every cog takes its part. Nurses and doctors examine, examine, examine. Time is of the essence. Off for an MRI scan... “You’ve been very lucky sir, Just a broken leg.” Thank you NHS.

My memories fade and disappear one by one Down a spinning plug hole into the dark abyss Of lost memories once seen and said. File after file deleted in a whisper of wind, Blown away to infinity. Time to put the light out. Just a graveyard of memories Never to be read. Your hopes, dreams, your life ambitions Gone, gone, gone forever. No more. What is life for? Does life really have any meaning in a world with out god.

The Train Derails to Dementia God switches on the light of life; It begins to flicker As systems get ready. Memory bank to infinity. Seeds begin to sprout. The journey has begun on the subway. As we grow we pick up loved ones and friends Like lanterns that we will let go To be stored at the back of the library, Only to be re-read when we are older. The money tree branches out And we must pick a path On route to an unknown destination. We will pick up more people and acquaintances And these will hover around For us to stumble over and meet again. This will go on, station by station.  For some the tunnel will come to an end; For some it will lead to love, For some it will lead to riches, For some it will lead to a sad and lonely place And some will stay on the same ride, Never to step off. Every rollercoaster will have a bumpy ride And you may get off the ride as you please In search of a new adventure. There are so many infinite probabilities We cannot compu

I'm only human I've been to a dark and lonely place In a space suit that weighs me down Like a lead balloon On the moon A lifeless, forgotten, miserable, desolate place In cold space Just me, no human contact And fear of self annihilation . As I search for a way out of this nightmare I made myself I need to escape but I can't run from myself And I have no-one to run with. I radio out for help But no-one answers the call And if they do its not the answers I'm looking for. As I come against wall after walI I must climb, I shall never give up my right to life. As I hold out my hand to the light and life answers my call, I didn’t see before me with joy and love of life, a human place. A mad, crazy society of war, violence and sadness. Lonely land of the forgotten. I know I must return to that dark place many times again, But this time I just have to find the space rocket home. Many will face the same journey to find their rocket to reality So never

I open the windows and doors And yes summer is here. As I look out on nature's green carpet, The birds are singing their morning chorus. The bushes surround the garden With borders of rainbow colours. Worms are mining, The bees are flying from flower to flower, with their nectar And the butterflies are flirting as they flutter by. As I step out into nature's paradise, Adam and Eve’s garden is before me, The feel of lush green grass is underneath me,  I cut the grass the smells surround me. As I look up into the blue sky, Cotton-wool clouds float by. A red ladybird with black spots Lands next to me. And then a horsefly hovers next to me As time stands still In nature's beautiful, wonderful garden.

The Test Tube Society of Barbie and Ken Made in a laboratory In a baked bean factory Go round and round In the witches cauldron. Out pop the Bananas in Tracksuit Pyjamas Made by Armani. They are all driven around in pink and black limousines by Parker. A flip-flop world of the stiff upper-lipped All sail by in model private yachts In a tsunami of pirates As private jets fly by Made by Ali Baba’s magic carpet for the super rich. They all live in a magic lantern In a fantastic plastic magical sarcastic place Called Fantasia with sandcastles of cash Made by Flash Gordon. The Pied Piper rings Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck From the paparazzi who made this far-fetched story About the Star Trek generation Made in a baked bean factory.

War They will not stop and one day there'll be no one left, but after we've killed everyone one day life will start again, but we will not be here to see it. Maybe the ants will be next? Let's hope whatever it is, they will do a better job than us.

You pick up a stick and start to hit me, I pick up a cricket bat and I hit you back. A war has started. My gang throws bricks. Your crowd catapults rocks So by now a World War has started. This battle will never end, But by now there's no one left to launch the rocks; Just rubble, dust and the stick where men once stood. So the next time you pick up that stick Just stop and think what if And throw that stick away; Don't put the stick in a drawer And think I may need it one day; Throw that stick away And let's start life all over again.

Depression I’m just a number, A bumbler, A down-and-out; The lowest part of life. I’m not worthy. Mercy, mercy, Let me out of this dark hole I’m in. Don’t just stand there and throw stones at me and mock me. I’m not your lap dog, your slave. I’m not something you step in! Let me out of this coffin I built myself. I don’t want to commit suicide So let into the light And shall start my life again, But this time I will make it count; And will be that better person.

My fight against schizophrenia As I travel here today a voice whispers in my ear, "I am the devil, you will falter and fall. I shall blow you down like a feather because I am the storm." But as I stand here before you today I say to the devil "I am that storm. I shall not falter or fall, I do not fear you. I am the beast, the lion, the roar; you do not scare me. You can send fire and I shall send water to put you out. You send a man and i shall send an army to defeat you. You send a bullet and bombs and I shall send the biggest bullet and bombs you have ever seen. You throw a stone and I shall throw a rock to pound you. You bring darkness and I shall bring the light to blind you. I shall seek you out, you can hide in the darkest of crevices and when I find you I will sing you the sweetest of songs that will drown you. So Lucifer bring it on, mish-mash you're trash. Ring ring, end of round one. 1,2,3, you're out for the count. I am the terminator, t