Poetry is my therapy

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?