The End

An old man lies dying, his flesh is decayed.
This once was a man who demanded respect,
From all that surveyed him and those who did not.
This man's now a scaffold of bone draped in skin,
The texture of parchment, a page wearing thin.
The story of his life is etched on his features,
Full of success, no failures permitted.
He once was an oak standing firm in all weathers,
Now all he has left are his memories, forever.

Soon he will see, the angel of death.
And continue the fight, until his last breath.
Until of his life nothing is left.
No more will his friends come to comfort him still,
For nothing can save him, not even his will.

'Doctor can you help him?' an anxious daughter shouts.
But she knows the answer before it's out.
She cannot imagine a world without him.
"We're trying to save him, doing everything we can".
Then, with sense of inevitable failure the doctor confirms that his end is predicted,
She returns to his side to be there when he leaves her.

Soon he will see, the angel of death.
And continue the fight, until his last breath.
Until of his life nothing is left.
No more will his friends come to comfort him still,
For nothing can save him, not even his will.

The old man has no voice he can no longer talk.
His legs are so weak he can no longer walk.
His throat is so dry he can no longer eat.
His lips are not moist and will crack like concrete.

Soon he will see, the angel of death.
And continue the fight, until his last breath.
Until of his life nothing is left.
No more will his friends come to comfort him still,
For nothing can save him, not even his will.

With a lifetime of service to self and community,
You would think that his subjects would pay their respect.
But he has long since retired from municipal glory,
Now others expect the respect that was his.
A few still remain that remember his best days,
But none have turned up to be there for his last days.

Soon he will see, the angel of death.
And continue the fight, until his last breath.
Until of his life nothing is left.
No more will his friends come to comfort him still,
For nothing can save him, not even his will.

The man had great faith in the skill of the surgeons,
Where industry and skill had placed a great burden.
For he cannot face the end of his life.
But trapped in this bed with no sight of his future,
In death a victim of his culture.
His eyes can see, his mind cannot,
Only memories can fill the vacant slot.

Soon he will see, the angel of death.
Until of his life nothing is left.
And continue the fight, until his last breath.
No more will his friends come to comfort him still.
For nothing can save him, not even his will.

Kiss

I had been to a party, it was after twelve-thirty and I was starting to tire.
I decided to leave and the going was easy until I got to the door.
I saw a girl that was kissing a boy that must have been four years her junior.
It looked like to me that she must have been drunk and the other boys had been queuing.

When I said goodbye to those standing there, she finished with what she was doing.
With hardly a glance at the boy she'd been eating, in her hunger she turned to me.
Like the one before me she grabbed me so firmly and pressed her face into mine.
When lip touched lip, she tasted her target, she probed with her tongue, I was shocked.

But this idea of hers wasn't so bad and I wanted her to keep going.
Then I got hot, why, I know not, and I gave her the right to enter.
I didn't want to stop and she didn't for a while, I thought I was part of this warm fleshy creature.
I knew her name, but I don't think we'd spoken, and I didn't even know if I liked her.

Just when it seemed she'd be there for all time, she broke off, it was finished forever.
We said goodbye, the most that we talked.
I walked off through the night with a step that was light,
And a heart that was beating so fiercely.

Intoxication

When she is near, her scent appears,
To distract my senses, concentration a nonsense.
With subtle vibration, diffuses breath through still air,
With sounds so soft and so soothing.
Drifting are my thoughts, on an ocean of tenderness.

The warmth of the flesh sensed from a distance,
Still adrift, too far to touch, but my feelings are warming.
Then from a moments tactile contact, I urgently struggle,
Restraining my heart, it might burst like a bubble.

The closeness of you fills my world,
Leaves me breathless.
Never again will I stray or grow restless.
Leave me alone,
I will die, be neglected.
Come to me still,
I live, and love you will.

Lost in Longing

Warm and scented, rounded flesh,
Soft and moist, to touch it clings,
From fire the pain begins its journey,
From finger tip tremble to beating heart,
From quivering lip to taste sublime,
An endless moment caught in time.

Then, it's gone, this paradise,
A world once warm is now cold as ice.
Where are those eyes so wide and guiless?
Remember the hair, softly falling.
And lips so desirous of kissing and silence.

Let senses be dulled so I can forget her.
My eyes cannot see her, but I feel she is near me.
My ears cannot hear her, but her scent is still with me.
I touched her once, I hope forever.

Lest we Forget

est we forget how you served your country.
And fought with its enemies for love of your country.
And vowed to give everything for pride in your country.
And stalked dangerous shores and braved death for your country.

Lest we forget the sacrifice you made,
Risking your life for love and not pay.
Putting your faith in men who gave you no say.
Who, with smoke and fire, sent you on your way.

Lest we forget the deep darkness and great light,
In which you were immersed as you fought the great fight.
But, through it all you had faith in your God,
Keeping you safe from all evil by the strength of his love.

And what of your comrades who through thick and through thin,
With you and your friendship saw hell and came back again.
These are the memories you cherish forever,
They are fixed like the earth and the stars up in heaven.

And what of your foe, the reason you'd go,
To defeat by your courage and with freedom your goal.
It was for good to triumph over evil,
Was it not so?

You left your loved ones to fend for themselves,
You wanted a better life for them in the future.
For them and for us we honour your memory.
And will continue to do so beyond the centenary.

Did you feel guilty when you killed your brother,
Taking the life of a child from its Mother?
Did you feel pride when you killed a Father,
Leaving a child with no Dad ever after?

Do we respect the creator of orphans,
Of pain and of suffering and of endless torture?
Can we respect a man who kills daughters,
With no thoughts for the loss whilst his mind's set on slaughter?

What did the death of your comrades achieve,
Except to hurt loved ones and plant hateful seed?
In their hurt the loved ones feel no love for your foes.
Over time the river of hate never slows?

Impassive faces cloak the bitterness of loss.
And as for the nation, who gives a toss?
Was winning the war for God and for Country so important,
While friends souls abandoned, were twisted and tortured?

Did you really think that one time in your life when destiny was so clear,
Would mean anything to us, not yet born at that time, for whom war was never as near?
Do we care what you did for your story of glory?
Do we care that you hid all your feelings, entirely?

Now that you ask us to pay you respect,
It's no point complaining of what little you get.
We are not interested in historical wars,
Don't you forget it's our future, not yours.

Eternal Emptiness

Deep, deep down,
The eternal emptiness.
Steals from within,
The very thing,
That keeps you alive,
And makes you thrive,
Or helps you just survive.

Dark, dark, dark,
No source of light,
From which to fight,
Against the night,
A formless void,
No chance to avoid.

One day it finds you,
Swallows you whole.
Who has a soul,
Inside that hole?
Who has a life without the light,
To keep you from the endless night?

Endless Creation

It was before she did exist.
How could a life that was not yet created,
Carry a life whilst dormant and latent?

And when she was born,
A sweet little innocent,
You saw the creation of a new world.
As into this world the tiny pearl was hurled.
Torn from the womb, warmth, peace and no danger,
Into a world full of strangers, hidden danger.
All you could see was the power of creation,
All yours to mould in your image.

As she grew up no sign could be seen,
No mark was established,
In the sweet little girl of the power she would hold.
Then, one day she began to shed life,
It was then that her gift and its story were told.

By 17 years she'd shed much more life.
But no seed ever fell, to meet, be embraced.
Shed they were wasted, disappeared without sight.
Stolen away, like a thief in the night.

She experimented with boys and lastly with men,
But, never allowed them to share her precious thing.
'Til one which she had chosen to loosely consort,
Became more important in deed and in thought.

Taming the beast was her vowed intent,
Directing his business to her sexual scent.
Smiling appealingly as she strove to attract,
With such charms and allure he could not fight back.

Then one day when filled with love,
The barrier broke.
No defence.
A natural break.
A lot a stake.
She wanted more.
For Gods sake!

She never thought that it could happen.
She never thought, that's why it happened.
Now she's happy with her condition,
Though it had happened without her permission.

Now she has created in the image of her mother,
A life inside her, waiting to uncover.
Then when it grows she hopes it will be,
Like herself, so healthy, so strong and so free.

Mist

Mist, I think I can see you.
Mist, I think I can touch you.
The earth is featureless and the water surrounds.
But, all seems insubstantial in the white fog of unknowing.
Metal and earth, wood and fabric,
All have no substance when the mist is growing.

All becomes quiet as real is unreal.
Silence a reminder of dull emptiness.
The soul withdraws in insular awe,
Positioned in a singularity amid a vast openness.
The spirit is dampened by the claustrophobic moisture,
And a chill on the air is a reminder of flesh's weakness,
Is this the point at which our world will end?

To walk further would be to come,
To the place where land ends and the sea world begins.
No solid reminders of earth will I find,
In that smooth watery expanse that runs circuitous,
Across the wide ocean to a place unknown.

The mist will not die until it is ready.
We must wait until the sun shines clear and steady.

Rose

My little rose you were so sweet,
With firm, full breasts, and hair so neat.
But you've grown thorns that cut so deep,
A daggers wound from words you speak.

They linger long, are buried deep,
Imprisoning love with their heat.
Your words attracted, now repel,
The place we live in, now is hell.

Worship

Why worship someone you've never met?
Why worship someone because you were told to when you were young?
Why attribute virtues obtained by hearsay,
To those who came like you, screaming from a mother's womb,
Who return to darkness, perhaps, in a tomb,
Or burn to ashes in an oven.

What have they done to deserve such reverence,
Those who by birth or money have risen to pre-eminence?
Investigate, disseminate the reasons that you have,
The pretence of the love you claim for,
Those who fortune has prescribed, wealth and glory 'till they die.