Day Dream, Life, Links

Living on a Cloud

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One overcast day, I got to thinking:

If i lived on a cloud,

I would be without a home most of the time, in sunnier climbs

If I lived over the lands of Britannia & her Isles however, it would not be all that frequent at all,

I would be secure & content to live free & sail my home wherever i pleased,

Though i would likely avoid concentrations of human habitation on such days,

For the shades of my sprawling cloudy foundations, would tend to shimmer & reflect on each of the faces of the folks  below! 

Alas- the sight of so many (vitamin D-starved) gloomy faces, would do little to brighten up my reverie as I go about my own day!

Were I the selfish sort however, I would not care or dwell over-long on such thoughts however,

For I would be living on the *opposite side* to such arguably worthwhile antagonisms,

And facing a permanent clear blue sky basked in glorious sunlight!

All I’d need to worry about then is:

Acquiring a permanent tan (which, thankfully, I already have!) ;

And, catching the occasional cross-winds off-balance, so as not to fall off the edge!

Heaven forbid the latter, I beg!

For to bask in sun’s majesty at leisure in company, is a memorable holiday; 

But, to do so solitarily from vantage of a mobile cloud (I’d imagine) would, be, just, heavenly! 

East End, Life, Links

A Charmed Life!

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 I’m a geezer about town

Always partial to a bit of banter ‘n’ a laugh with the lads, 

That occasionally ends up in a scuffle or four!

Knocking heads, buckling legs;

You can always find me afterwards, nursing a beer in hand,

With an ever-ready smile, that instantly says to every lady (if you’d care to overlook an occasional black-eye):

‘I care that you’re here’

‘And you’ve made an effort to be beautiful’

‘I’m yours, if you’ll have me’;

‘And, I’ll treat you like the true lady you are’

Honestly, Gov: I live for Friday nights!

Nursing a hangover on most Saturdays;

I consider Sundays my day of rest; 

When I make an illegal homemade brew, that’ll surely make your balls explode!

Other times: I’m a wheeler-dealer; an artful dodger,

I’ve got my fingers in a few – strictly, non-legit – pies!

I make a living by taking my wears from door-to-door!

Lasses love me, 

Their asses feel my pain for 48 hours or more,

I always aim to please, 

But, the optional after-service is always free!

Y’see: it’s how I maintain a competitive edge in these hard economic times,

32 fags a day, I, insist:  keeps the doctor away

I scoff down cockles, jellied eels, mushy-peas &  fish ‘n’ chips, religiously;

Like the East End kid I am, through & through!

A charmed life I’ve led,

Skirting danger at every bend,

Likely facing an almighty brutal final end,

But, all said and done:

I’d rather rock out, than fade away, like most!

Life, Links, Love

A Meadow in Bloom

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In the tapestry of memories of my mind, I dwell, waiting for you

 

Whilst I wait, I remember a walk in St James’ Park,

 

To an accompaniment of music delivered by nature’s, gentle, melodious  harp, 

With a flute harmony ‘n’ banjo thrown in, to accompany a pigeon pursuing another in walking, whirling circles;

In  lustful abandonment!

A chorus of sounds,

A tulip for your troubles; a rose, for its nettles; all beneath a silken sky,

Providing an animated backdrop, to an old-fashioned love story… stirring awake-

Like: a breath of air turning kindle gently into flame,

Two good friends began this walk, no longer *just* good friends, when its end came round,

Love, is a concept of loyalty, compassion, understanding & a term of art,

Populating the long halls of your memories with vivid master-works, like a prized gallery of vaunted treasures;

To occupy your restful days, with wonder, at a life spent in the company of beautiful souls (both within & without),

To reflect on the precious truth, that, is:

I have been truly blessed, for I have been loved.

Folklore, Links

Embers of Violence

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Embers of violence burning bright

In the remains of a storm of virulent night

A creature wreathed in ambient glow; moving with stealth, intent and purpose, through a vista of sprawling carnage,

The wreckage doth be strewn every which way;

With survivor & survived, amongst devastation; still in the throws of a dazed, confused, befuddled display,

To a chorus of sounds voicing a thousand thousand ills,

Is the setting for a primeval tabula rasa of hunter, prey and kill

In this terrible melee, the echo of a multitude of screams do rise;

But, be they borne out of terror, fear, remorse or, brute violence, none yet have the wit to surmise,

What ever way the end cometh- it cometh, it’s true,

With  survivor & survived, left to  grieve, mourn, and move on:

Memories do fade, like what happened yesterday-

And, over time, are gradually reshaped to dull & mottle the bitter harsh light of that terrible day

Hard lessons learnt are eventually un-learnt,

Thus- when history repeats,  people are not forewarned & are left ill-prepared,

Therefore, it is not a conceit when  this creature of opportunity and violence is stirred awake in the wake of disaster once more;

When, the full circle complete, for this cycle at least, the beast is left unchallenged, to wreak havoc yet more!

Courage, Links

Pretty Girl in Crutches

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 You walked in in crutches, 

A pretty girl in a red, flower-patterned knee-length dress…with trestles 

Wearing stockings, on a bright summers day & on crutches!

I thought you’d sprained your leg at the gym,

Like all those young things playing at being trendy models,

Your thick brown locks did frame: 

Strikingly lush red lips and a set of bright emerald pools for eyes, 

You could not have gone unnoticed, even if you’d tried!

A striking, large, Black Widow Tattoo in purple with black outline, on the back of your right hand- 

On the nape between thumb and forefinger-

Peaking the curiosity, like every one bore witness to it like me! 

As I answered your confidential questions- 

I asked, curiously ‘what happened?’, clumsily indicating your crutches

You didn’t take offence, as you likely should have; 

Instead- 

You tapped one of the crutches against your left leg as you looked on amusingly, 

To the echo of the sound of a hollow wooden limb,

‘It goes all the way up’, you said noticing my surprise with familiarity/mischievous amusement yet content

I had the audacity to ask: how did that happen? 

You explained in remarkable candidness and it left me horrified. 

Violently robbed of your innocence as a child of 12,

In the wake of  the Balkan conflict-

Then, shot six times by the same man who had intended to leave no trail behind, 

‘I’m covered in bullets’, you said

Such horrific information, delivered matter-of-factly in all earnestness!

I was left speechless,

You recognised the signs, well-used by now to the reaction over the past decade ‘n’ more, 

As you smiled & wobbled away awkwardly,

I reflected on:

Your strength against impossible adversity;

Many would not have been so strong nor lasted this long,

Though, not, you:

Your attitude is determination, from root to stem!

And your character and will are a mix of iron & steel-

Holding up a external set of  features that is extraordinary,

You will fare well, in the end

And is a lesson to all about determination overcoming adversity:

That, we all must relentlessly fight for what we want, every second that we are alive!

For humankind, life is not simply about survival of the fittest as Darwin suggested, but also- 

Who is most determined to withstand life’s trials, tribulations & demands!

If only I had the guts to say these words to your face,

Rather than in retrospect, in awe of a brave lass; fighting the good fight, with all of her might & more!

 

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‘The Community Worker’

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Abrupt, and cutting straight to the point,

For messing about with implied/idle threats, is not his particular style

Understand the man’s flaws: but judge him not, and he will not let you down

A flawed man in every-which-way but one: though the world has uses for both saint and sinner alike

‘Hurt her again, and I’ll cut your neck open and drink your blood’, is one of his direct quotes

You would be a complete fool, if you’d mistaken it for just words.

A hero to rescue a damsel in distress kept imprisoned in a castle (well, a semi-detached in Wales)

He’s no Prince,

Though she *is* arguably High-born,

He is more Shrek than prince charming, but she is rather comely (if a little too talkative given the chance!)

Alas, it did not end as a fairytale would and continues to meander on,

Shrek returned to his wife,

And, the Princess, to her comparatively pampered life,

Where she occasionally reflects on:

The unexpected Prince who battled through a wilderness of beasts & overcame a tower of sorts, to rescue her.

With each telling, the tale did grow and took on a life of its own,

Those few who were privileged to hear it, could not keep it to themselves,

And the tale of this unexpected princely rescue, by this Prince by deed, if not by birth, appearance or station, spread far & wide!

Eventually, all came to regard this Shrek as a Prince in truth & discreetly sought out his services for their own ills,

Over time, he has acquired a reputation for discretion (if a little rough and dishevelled round the edges) –

With an unpredictable propensity toward extreme violence, at times!

His charges are voluntary-

Though, he does not accrue many – if any – bad debts,

He is now not known by his own name, nor as ‘Shrek’ or ‘Prince’, but-

Simply, as ‘The Community Worker’

Though, in his line of community work, he’ll never win any praise,

For whatever praise he receives-

There will be others (so aggrieved by his actions), cursing him & openly calling for his blood!

There is now a heavy bounty on his head, that has introduced an additional layer of secrecy to his work,

So:

If you have a problem,

And neither law-enforcement, nor the
authorities or (even) the mythical A-Team, can help!

You are welcome to seek out the much-in-demand services of The Community Worker in confidence,

Be forewarned, however:

He takes his own time, to investigate, to deduce  & consider your offer,

His discretion & decision in this, is, absolute!

And, in the end, justice, is, assured-

For all, save the guilty

Therefore, do *not* seek to waste his time,

Or, entrap him, with the reward in mind,

Because: this world does not suffer fools, in the end,

And, neither, does, He!

Links, Society

We be Rioting!

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We be rioting

Cause nothing be changing

Police be wholesale abusin’

Left unchecked to get on with it

They say, the IPC be investigating

IPC: bunch of toffs paid to think up excuses

No more council housin’

Media be naming and shaming,

Public be melting down call-in ‘phone lines!

Asking po-lice to blaze out water cannons ‘n’ shoot brothers ‘n’ sisters who be lootin’, on sight

And they be calling us ‘the mob'(!)

Motha fucka – this is our version of striking!

Civil disobedience!

At government cut-backs & societal neglect!

‘Don’t mess about, son’, a copper says ‘no one will give you a job’

Isn’t that the point, though?

You gave us teachers who couldn’t teach,

So, we turned en-mas to idolatry-

To those we thought gave a damn; searched for meaning in lyrics, and taught ourselves (and each other) as best we could!

While filling our heads with unrealistic aspirations & dreams!

Suggesting an idyllic life was there for all to reach ‘n’ achieve:

When the odds of actually doing it (like the lottery) are 14 million to one!

They said we could be proud, now you’re saying:

That ain’t so, ’cause you ain’t got nothing to be proud about!

Yes, we are the disenfranchised, lost generation,

An over saturation of people chasing a buck-

Meaking out a penny or living, just hand-to-mouth,

We was born after your erstwhile Empire,

Previous generations frigging wipedout the economy, by draining all the bling in the treasury!

Now, we be in the trough, cause you been having your fill ‘n’ then sum!

Did we loot chicken shops? No- ’cause that’s all we can afford to eat (four chicken wings for a pa-nd)

So- we be sleepwalking into multiple heart attacks in our middle ages!

Will there be a free NHS, when we’ll be needing it though?

Or, will we just be falling dead on the pavement, yo?

The streets of inner cities will be crowded with corpses brov,

With folks just falling dead like flies in a sudden cold spell,

In any case, there ain’t no point working:

If you make it to a decent bracket of income, they’ll tax 40% of what you make,

State pensionable age will be 80 odd by the time we’re up,

Darn it kids, they’ll have to wire it straight to the hospital or the fucking funeral home!

May be they’ll pile up all the destitute dead, dying or aged in all them dilapidated derelict tower blocks,

Then napalm the fuck out of it to celebrate the Monarch’s second jubilee!

It’ll be another whitewash!

One rule for the rich, well-positioned (with better jobs and a range of options to choose) and another (the breadcrumbs, with no choice) for the rest of us,

The bare minimum,

For us to fight, kill & die over!

For your sheer entertainment value-

To their wild manic applause, like the gladiatorial pit of the Colosseum at the height of Rome!

A crime most foul, with the complicity of the better off & the affluent!

Hasn’t it, though, been forever thus?

Links

Tears of Winter

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These winds cause bitter fright,

This unseasonal-season of cold spells leaving one with goosebumps, when one should be bathed instead in sunlight!

Record rainfall & more overcast days ahead in store,

Hailstorms in May, who would have thought?

Am I over-reacting or scaremongering when it’s actually just ‘one of those things’?

But, isn’t that what the majority of the characters said in that film, 2012?!

Right- right- that was ‘just a film’, and the Mayans apparently may have got it wrong,

Though- I remain baffled & beg the question:- why am I freezing my bits off in mid-to-late spring!

I hear the birds-

Yes- the flowers have begun to bloom-

And, yes – the mornings are brighter and the sun doesn’t set until about 9 or 10!

And- the gardeners among us are keenly waiting to get out and plough their respective lawns (if only the incessant rains would stall),

But, I ask you:

What happened to the days basking in the sun, 

Where everyone wore shades,

And the girls wore less and less,

It was oh so much fun!

So: rain rain go away! 

Give a chance at least to all them bikini clad women to re-populate our spring days!

Links

Shroud of (Invisible) Silk

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This shroud is actually a quilt of many weaves

Each weave is a compliment or criticism, turned into embroidery!

Each competing for your attention – 

In a dance of shifting, rippling, coalescing, translucent shades of mist, 

Kept together with a weave made of your sheer spirit & propelled by the strength of your conviction: 

A pattern – growing one way or other, as your popularity peaks by word-of-mouth or otherwise (along with your developing reputation),

Striking an equilibrium between these competing forces is however nigh on impossible,

And it is a folly to expect this delicate balance to be maintained for all time- 

(It’s an inconsistent weave in earnest to be appreciated in retrospect rather than in the present),

For all the stars in the sky, save for optical illusions, shine the brightest before they begin to decline, 

Therefore, do not seek out fame for, if you are true, it (& it’s counterpart) will eventually find you,

On that day & time, do not forget that it did not come to you overnight & stay true to the aforesaid, whatever else you do or have in mind,

My words are simple, the concepts less so, 

Hopefully, this sonnet, does not leave you overly troubled, for that it is not its intention-

But, just, simply, to enlighten you!