⣀ ⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⢀⣀⣀⡀
⢰⣄⡀ ⢀⣾⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡟ ⠰⣧
⢻⣿⣦⡀ ⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⣿⡿ ⣹⡇
⢰⣿⣿⣷⣄ ⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣾⡇ ⢠⡶⠟
⠁⣾⡿⣿⣷⣦⡈⠛⠋⣉⠛⠿⠛⢛⣉⠛⠻⠿⣿⠁
⠙⠁⣿⡿⢿⣿⣦⣀⠙⢷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿
⠉⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠙⠉⠛⠿⠛⠛⢿⡇
⢠⣤⣀⣤⡈⠛⢷⣄⠑⣶⣾⣦⣾⡇
⢸⡿⠿⠛⠛⠷⣤⡀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢸⣷⣶⣾⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿ ⣤⣄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢈⡇
⢹⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀ ⠾⠃
⠉⠉⠁ ⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁
The tree is up, the air is chilled,
the candles snuffed, the stockings filled.
The night is quiet, dense and pure
and morning will be great, I'm sure.
Yet we forget about the few
without a home, or feeling blue.
But all year long, there's help at hand
charities, shelters; all well-manned.
Few also think of those away
at war, in care or for the day.
But at this season of the year,
we should all stand together, here.
Although this year it may be hard,
I say, "Our Christmas Won't Be Marred!"
Let's deck the halls, and keep our distance.
Goodnight to all, and Merry Christmas!
(Originally published on 24th December 2020)
I'm blinded by fury at the world tonight.
I feel my heart beating with all its might.
Wherever I turn I just see human blight.
I can't be the only one, am I right?
Nothing makes sense and the hatred still grows.
There should be an exit, but nobody knows!
My blood still boils as my ink still flows.
I'm one with my anger and, good God, it shows.
Hellfire rains down in an unholy shower,
while git after git are still left in power;
and while this does happen my anger'll still tower —
it's not a small problem to be solved in the hour.
As the clock ticks past midnight, I'm starting to tire;
but I cannot escape from the furious fire.
Oblivion will reign: a nasty, old liar —
a horrible insult to our planet, Gaia.
But still, time roams on and I start to see light,
cutting in like a dagger and banishing the night.
There's a flutter of wings as my hatred takes flight.
I'm free from my anger — for now, at least; right?
(Originally published on 11th December 2020)
Do not think that I am lying, when I say I’m slowly dying;
I’m the world and I am crying, and there is no point in denying...
Gasping, acrid gas and smoke; drapes my body like a cloak;
squeezing life to slowly choke; I speak the truth, this is no joke.
No-more, the green and pleasant land; sun-scorched scar of desert
sand; it’s time for you to take a stand; my future lies within your
hands.
It burns my soul, it boils my blood; you’ll see my tears bring on the
flood; if only I were understood; you can help me, if only you would!
My tears will fall and oceans rise; more tears are falling from the
skies; some think that these are wicked lies; believe in me, real are
my cries.
No oceans blue, dead skeleton reef; plastic hell beyond belief; help
me out, turn a new leaf; put an end to all this grief.
I’m cracking under pressure and shaking to the core; stop this
global warming – I can’t take any more; please help us to take
action, and we will win the war; you must help your world, or
your world will be no more...
(Originally published on 12th May 2019)
The sharpening steel, a winter’s spark.
Slowly but surely, a bright flame illuminates the canopy and,
as the alchemy begins, a myriad of sparks are cast into the starry sky.
A blaze erupts, warmth wrapping around me like a python,
making me blush and blink smoke out of my eyes.
The sun is setting, bathing the landscape in fire and
emphasising my wall of flames.
Silhouetted mysteries grow tall on the ground,
stretching west like ancient druids, blessing the new moon,
Welcoming the Spring Solstice!
(Originally published on 9th May 2019)
Why should we wear a poppy red?
For all the sweat and tears they shed.
Into battle, troops were led;
the aircraft swarmed and bullets sped.
Explosions, sirens overhead;
fiancées, lovers left unwed.
Expected glory. but hell instead!
Over miles of mud they tread.
No-man's land, a place of dread;
flooded trench, now grim deathbed.
Disease and injury were widespread,
mental torture wrecked the head.
Why should we wear a poppy red?
For all their words, all left unsaid
and never to forget the dead,
or sacrifice of their bloodshed.
Their futures, ours — please, go ahead.
(Originally published on 11th November 2018)