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.  Beautif...

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....

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 a...

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 cr...

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