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Wednesday, 30 November 2011

The Protest

When the locals, gather as workmen
In the canteens of so little 
To meal themselves with warmth of tea

Ready to line a rally on the city lane 
No political manoeuvre, of sweet talk 
Would spin the concerns of the masses 

The streets will soon be covered with the worker aunts 
Picketing, bickering, demanding their bare necessity 
From the suited, out of touch, politicians 

Who  still peddle lip service 
And talking tough 
On  jettison horse dung  

When the bite hits had on pockets   
And tightened belts just leads to 
More tightening belts, to job loss 

While the cream at the top get 49.9% pay rise 
Just to say they were considerate enough 
To the little people, not to hit the 50% mark 

And local men, worker bees and aunts 
Ponder on outcomes, sleeps not at night 
Fearing what tomorrow holds 

This wave of unemployment 
Will soon grace our doors, it is a dark cloud 
Like the black death's epidemic 

Do they think we protest 
For the fun of it, just as a right to 
Talking it down, as just a phase, like a youthful rebellion  

24 hours of protestation and it will all be over 
These aunts, bees would be back at work 
And nothing would have changed, but just a dump squib  

Except for the enforcement of the cuts
Snobbish to the little people 
Who's survival are foreign to their concept 

Politicians should be jailed 
For gross professional "suit without substance"
Criminal misconduct of mismanagement 

To have brought about the death of the economy 
Just as the doctor faces his for t' same in a sense 
Why get away with Hippocratic oaths 

Instead t' behave  with pomposity, t' write books to sell after 
About their misdeeds selling out each other 
Duplicity on reflection, like thieves without honour, is new 

Do you think we line on rally lanes in mob 
Just as a procession, a fashion statement 
Just because we have the right to 

And we like doing the river dance 
Do you think, really I ask
Mate, seriously do you really think 
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Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Concept for display only

Admire t' suit, a' be enchanted, I beg of you admire f' a distance 
Don't come close, to witness price tag attached 
This is for display purposes only, next day return 

I often wondered, why so many 
Bright, intelligent and passionate people  
Walk this earth, yet so little is achieved  

Half the time, logic puts it down 
To common sense, on what is to be done 
So plain for all to see, "for display purposes only

Yet in the middle mingle of  entangled self interest 
Nothing seems to change, "this here, for shop display
With all good intentions, that holds grounds, lost

And politicians are the worse, with fine suits 
With weak stands, to feed on the voters right 
And only answer to pressure groups and self interest 

Suddenly good men lose their ideas " the concept of shop display"
Ideology of change, of what is to be done, in the best interest 
Suddenly good men, know only to play politics 

And opposition is the only group with righteousness
Even still, feeding of the heat of pressure groups 
While society loses its sanity in protest 

And wise-men tow the line of the strings of special interest  
To have self interest stand as the object of being 
The rest is for "shop display  purposes only", price tag still attached 

Someone should have announced from the beginning  
That this was all just a concept of democracy on exhibition 
Just for the "shop display", by men with intelligence 

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Monday, 28 November 2011

Contradictions on route

I am a contradiction of two ways, two souls  
I am passionate warm and cold at it 
Religious with rage, I am a fanatic on a course 

Focused on confusion confusion on focus 
I am squeamish, full of bleed, bathed in blood 
Loved and hated, for the same reason  to give 

I would take a stand firm, a stand on wobbly grounds 
And fear the consequences like a scary movie 
I would fear outcomes, like a coward to face 

I would jump off planes, yet not be suicidal 
I am always ready, yet petrified of the route 
The end in sight, seen on distance lands, so near 

I  would fear change, but drawn like a calling 
My fingers would shake, from my heart beat on erratic 
But I will grab firm on hooks with sweaty palms 

With journeys on trains, hanging on sides, fast to destinations 
I would hold firm, until the end, fearing I may fall 
Enjoying the breeze,  surfing the winds that threaten fall

I will know,  on this journey, I will know 
That contradiction would follow me 
Through this journey, with fear and joy  

Until the end of routes, where journeys end  
To appreciate the turbulence of passage 
In the process of accomplishment 

I would be brave and a coward 
Knowing fear is just a part of the process 
I would be focused, yet fear, for I am only human 
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Sunday, 27 November 2011

My Favourite Spot

photo: Christine Donnier-Valentin
A chair, a sofa, a place to rest  
A place to rest, from voyage path 
A place, I like, I call my spot, my comfy rest    

A place before the tv set  
A place I sit, to overlook my abode 
A place sat, in a place called home  

Home sat in, home to be, on a sofa 
A place to cuddle, to hold, to love 
A place to share, a story I know 

Now who went a' called out the removal van
She packed my sofa, without my knowledge  
A' placed it under a bridge, on voyage's path 

She called it art, contemporary and modern   
A place where I sit, my place I love 
A place where I sit, to rest my mind 

Put it back! my favourite spot 
Damn you, put it back, no not at the Tate  
Back I say, to my favourite spot 
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Murder in the village

Agatha Christie  
Wrote a letter to Poirot 
There has been a murder, in the village 

Serve your request to investigate 
Find out who done it, Sir, who done it 
And bring the fellow to justice, Sir 

Agatha Christie 
Opened a page of possible suspect, who done it 
Motives plastered on all at present  

Even the village priest 
Has to answer, missing an alibi    
Where were you last night, I say who done it 

Where were you between 
The hours of 10pm and dawn 
God can not be used, as an alibi, who done it 

He just announced 
He was in the presences of God 
When the murder took place, who done it 

Agatha christie 
Wrote a letter to Poirot
To have him find out, who done it 

Was it the husband, the wife, who done it 
The son or t' daughter, t' shopkeeper or the priest  
Who had more to gain from this murder 

Poirot  to investigate, who done it 
Agatha Christie wrote a letter to Poirot  
Justice justice be served, leave no stone unturned  

Except for mine 
There are somethings that should be left alone 
You can not go questioning the author, who done it  

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Saturday, 26 November 2011

Sun plant and friut

Sunlight, daylight follows 
Photosyntheses to have plant manufacture 
 Green-leaves and fruit on trees 
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Naming Names

Interesting names, I am named 
With not just the one 
But a dozen or so more  

More in names to respond to  
To be known by a word 
A name of representation  

And in pronunciation it changes too 
From what accent one is to hold 
I am named with not just the one  

Many a name I am to be known by 
Some for groups, in forms I belong to  
A' playground names oh a few more to mention 

Or characters known by 
Some for praises and so welcomed  
Some for curse, I pretend not to hear  

I am named, 
In my life time, many more in names 
I would be known by  

Some just in groups I belong to  
Some just in the way, I  am seen as 
I am known by, all in names 

I am named 
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Friday, 25 November 2011

Taking A Swipe

Taking a swipe  
At society  
At religion 
At politics 
At the establishment  

You see, it's not like, 
I am trying to take a swipe 
Just taking a swipe  
And it follows to digest  

I read the history of grounds that stand 
With the black rock to hold 
I read the history, of how religion was born 
That paganism is the oldest of them all 

To have Christianity and Islam  
Hold to gratitude  less of what is needed  
T' figureheads  back-bones "women" of strong men  
The very pillars of genesis in faith 

I read the history of ground zero 
And the symbol of the "stone "
I read the set-up of beginning, start up
And who it represented  in mixed fellowships  

I read about the philosophy  
They hold or once did 
To open up to the world around them 
The peace in messages, harmony they preach  

Not like I am trying to 
Take a swipe
Just taking a swipe 

Not today, with fortresses built 
From Rome to Mecca, to Jerusalem and beyond 
Where those without common share, in beliefs 
Of faith are blocked from entry's access  

Not like I am trying to take a swipe 
Just taking a swipe,
In doing so, in doing so

Are we not to love thy neighbour 
Why close doors and lock with hatred 
In keeping thy neighbour out 

Left cold at the mercy of wickedness 
In "I don't want to know", as a philosophy 
I am really now just taking a swipe, swipe, swipe  

Taking a swipe 

At the establishment
At society, 
At religion
At politics 
And all above 
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Thursday, 24 November 2011

Gaming Rules

Rock of all ages, curved in stone

Sculpture like that of the Mayan
The rulers of an empire in Mount Rushmore
Stands as old gods –as old kings

Sat on chess games
Add ons are not needed
No missing cubes

It is how you play 
Like the set-up of the periodic table
To give you strength or weakness

One less in two lines vacant
Gives room for breath

Know this,
The cup can never really be full to the brim
What is the use, if only to spill

So call it buffer zones,
Room for improvement
And to manoeuvre

First move on chess games
To get your king, I know to lose
A few foot soldiers

Who does battle in a white shirt?
Expecting no stain on uniform
Those shirts are only to be worn
For ceremonial processions

One less foot soldier on chess games
A step close to your king
If I play this right
"Chess mate will be in order"

So life is in pictures spread out
On game boards
I got one of your foot soldier
Just made it two, I am on a roll

I will have this as butter trade
Good of me, like monopoly

What is your next move?
Allow me to anticipate
Following patterns, from experience

I will know not to burn out
Sacrifice for sacrifice sake
Like a foolish ritual
A quick way to lose grounds

Changing the periodic table
My foot soldiers are still with value
There has to be a reward, for hard work
To lose one plus a few more

He is good, of course he is
Life is meant to be
This hard to play against
Before rewards

All men in a kingdom
Cannot be made kings
One has to proof his worth
That is why the gates have guards

So tactility is asked for
Concentration and focus are key
Endurance is as required
And some, for the unexpected

I see past your bishop
Your queen to king
Chess mate
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Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Holding a candlelight vigil

Should I hold a candlelight on vigil  
Mark on calenders on count down  
Push the sun with my bare hands  

From the east to the west  
So the sun will rise  
And set in a hurry, in a hurry 

Build green houses, then feed seeds, relentless 
Fertilizers, irrigation, like a junky with needles
So they germinate and blossom in a hist  

I would double my steps fast, quick enough  
For the cheater to be left chasing  
My shadows in savannah's plains  

Should I hold a candlelight on vigil  
Seek audience of the King 
To announce with intent  

Dare my naked neck on the butcher's table  
As far as I would go on will, standing my ground   
To be of honour, by my words of announce  

Would I be true in words authored  
Would my announce be made prophecy of  
And on this subject, be myself an oracle 

Should I hold a candlelight on vigil 
Hold my need, when nature calls 
As thus not to miss the first glance of glimpse 

And starve sleep in night corridors 
With patience lost of anxiety wait 
Like a sneeze with force, none can hold back 

And windows too, feel pressured 
As I invade their personal space 
One too many a time on lookout 

Should I hold candlelight on vigil  
 A thousand outcomes 
Could be made of this venture 

What would your last words authored be  
To have you stand on ownership 
To my treasured candle vigil  

Should I hold a candle on vigil   

What would prosperity, romance, success, aspirations, job, protest 
What would birth, death, joy, happiness, expectation, celebration  
What would voyage, heartbreak, arrivals, departure, results  

What would, what would, what would stand 

A thousand outcomes, could become of thus 
Should I hold a candle on vigil ....................
Fill in the gaps to claim ownership, of this vigil 

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Tuesday, 22 November 2011

The Prison Block

Being attached to umbilical cords  
Like cobwebs claim of unused boots 
Nettle nestled, wrapped up in silk  

At a stage pass the tress-hold of deliverance 
Chop chop, to be free of  chop
Being freed from attachments 

Contemplation puts worrying thoughts 
On one's mind "public service" as so claimed 
"What if", conjures up a role for itself "busy body"

Standing at the gate of guards to enforce 
Exit and entry are just as hard to comprehend
A' conditioned habits, fight a good fight to stay "conditioned" 

Like the coral reefs claim of sunken old ships   
If not then Black Beard's chest of treasures 
Would have freely floated, for the first passer by to own 

And that would have been centuries ago 
Long before metal detectors 
Long before sonar radar  

Time is precious, the watch marker swears to that effect 
If he says, then it is, it must be thinkering
For he holds the key to wind its tock, clock

And rabbits know to chase carrots 
Leaving sticks behind for dogs to play fetch with 
Chasing sticks over bones, conditioned with old habits 

They say you can't teach an old dog a new trick 
So he is stack chasing his tail in circles
Being attached, like an umbilical cord 

But in the same house of cards 
The cat moves with ease, regardless
A' to a point  holds more respect

A' mystery for being just that regardless
As one with less of a boundary "prison blocks" on constraint 
A cat, with its own mind do make  at any rate,  free

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Sunday, 20 November 2011

Process Of Proceeding

The process, of proceeding  
I just got made, as we proceed   
New chapters, I just got mailed     

If blisters were a beauty 
The Monalisa would not hold such value  
And all would have one personally to own  

If sweats tasted like wine 
Make my red, ruby port in fella va 
The best to be had, home made, skin made 

If logs before the process  
Just came as sculpture  
Sat on a table with spot lights to shine  

I just picked one, off the floor to own 
I just made it, just for having a wish 
I just became a magician  
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Saturday, 19 November 2011

Urn Holds Flowers

Urn holds flowers; joy   
Send me, love, hangs, kisses  
Celebrations wish
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Over Crowded Cakes

Fact is I was laid, an egg today, some time past   
That came before the chicken and egg race
Parables solved, I am that good, with parables  

Don't worry for reasons,  that is another story  
To tell, another time, on once upon a time  
Today I am blowing candles 

Laid or was it hatched, as an egg today 
I did be fast, trust me, furiously fast 
To have made it to the egg to fertilize

So I guess there was the "birds and bees"
The run before the egg, or was it the swim
Going into a shock release; seriously confusing this is

Any ways as I was saying 
So win win, winner takes all 
No splits into twins or a kind, of a kind 

I sat in nest as the king of water's world 
For the nine turns in calender 
Before making an entry, with screams 

Oh hail the one, yes for I am the one 
On this day born, with this life to live 
And life stories to add; of course with drama

Lets not go into details 
Throw proverbs in for the measure
To hold eye lashes from blushing 

So anyway cakes and candles  
I will blow just the one, if you don't mind
For is with one life I live 

Don't go overcrowding my cake 
Asking me of age count "silly you"
I am  analog, retro, this is before digital
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Friday, 18 November 2011

Sown Alive

Sown alive in a window  
Behind plants that gather form  
They climb to surround, they engulfed her soul    

She sat there naked in cradle 
Her eyes engaged, glowing psychedelic 
Embrace to enchant, deep contemplation  

Her thoughts capture distance, of escape 
Clouds, shape formers signals a paradigm change 
They conjure rainbow twinkle, then contradicts  

Beauty that calls out, the allure of seduction 
Sent men and women on their knees with delight 
To worship her voice of Venus 

Like the green leaves that surrounds
She held life full, radiant, gifted 
Artistic loving, enigma of a kind, kindly 

But she was sown alive 
Still with life, so much left in her 
She was sown alive 

Sometimes the winds carry her singing voice 
Thoughts of her comes to mind with twinkles of melody 
And in that instant she takes life's form again 

Long enough until the music stops 
Long enough to delight to celebrate her life
Long enough in 3 minutes while her songs play 
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Thursday, 17 November 2011

Don't Bottle It

Don't bottle it or if you do
If you have, if you have to, then know this 
As a school of thought to share 

Rooted, sometimes knees down we dig so deep 
Into the earth of muddy fields, miners 
We forget we are made to walk with legs 

I saw a picture of one such so constant 
Only to realize, it is inconsistent with time 
Yet maintained constant in its identity 

Remember legs are made to be walked with 
And what is one to be defined by, by act and words 
So strong, so brave, to influence decisions made 

Surely the concept of perceived notion  
Half the time is wasted on second guessing 
The mind plays mind games, brilliant at doing so 

So what is the shape of the bottle, I ask  
To define the worth of its content 
Don't bottle it, in knowing where value lies 
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