that told the story of his life.
No rhyme or reason, just regret;
an open book, a testament
to broken dreams, and shattered hopes,
in chapter, verse and paragraph.
Then, with a twinkle in his eye,
a smile that spread across his face,
and chuckling softly to himself,
he told me that he couldn’t wait
to put the theory to the test;
proof positive of life’s reward.
“Ambition, greed and arrogance
won’t qualify us for a place
amid the company of saints,
no matter what our status is.
Humility, acceptance, faith;
above all, love will claim the prize.”
The beggar-man smiled one more time;
defiant to the very end.
A message issued from his lips;
a barely audible, but clear
reminder to those, lured through greed,
“Poetic Justice will be mine.”
15. Heroes
Parents used to look at us in disgust
They never liked the tunes we listened to
When we were teenagers. They didn’t trust
The things they sung about; what they would do
“They’re nothing like the singers of our day”
That was the kind of thing they used to say
“Turn down that awful racket; why not play
Something we can listen to.”… But hey!
We’ll never forget those words; that music
The Rock Stars, we’ll remember, with a sigh
Names we all knew well; that we grew up with
And just like Rock ‘n Roll, they’ll never die
Times that we remember, with affection
Are accompanied by a certain song
Voices cause us moments of reflection
Nostalgia makes us think it’s been too long
Some of those stars are no longer with us
We can’t even remember all their names
It’s true that some of them took their own lives
Were murdered, or left in a blaze of flames
Which ones did you like? Here are just a few
They conjure up good memories for me
Do any of them do the same for you?
Take a look at the list; perhaps you’ll see
Elvis Presley
John Lennon
Bob Marley
Marc Bolan
Jim Morrison
Frank Zappa
George Harrison
Joe Strummer
Sonny Bono
Ian Dury
Nico
Freddie Mercury
Janis Joplin
Hendrix, Jimi
Malcolm Owen
Van Zandt, Ronnie
Mama Cass
Keith Moon
Johnny Cash
Joey Ramone
Ian Curtis
And last but not least
Sid Vicious
May you all Rest in Peace
16. Gobsmacked!!!
Precise Peter
Had a way with words
And he’d always
State it clear
He said accurate description
And articulation
Formed the essence
Of his style of speech
Now he played guitar
In a four-piece band
That he named
‘Other Hits Include…’
Carlos and Jimi
Had nothing on Peter
He could teach them
A thing or three
The first time I saw him
Perform a solo
Fingers fairly flew
From fret to fret
An improvised version
Of that old song ‘Layla’
But his vocals…
They weren’t up to much
I said “Hey Peter,
That’s a mean sounding banjo”
He looked offended
As he spoke to me
“That’s not a ‘banjo’;
That’s a classic ‘Fifty Nine
Gibson Les Paul Standard…
In Sunburst
“It looks alright to me”,
I was joking
He adopted
A condescending tone
“If one can’t distinguish
Between Formby and Clapton
Then one should just…
Keep your big gob shut.”
17. Two Types of Obedience
There are two types of obedience
One is born of respect
The other is born of fear
If your superiors command respect
Your obedience is guaranteed
But you are merely a follower
If you respect yourself
Others will, in turn, respect you – obey you
You will become a leader
If you fear the pretender you follow
Obedience is a result of this fear
Respect is mutual and breeds obedience
Delegation works both ways
Fear is a one-way street
Obedience from intimidation
Breeds only contempt!
18. One Discovery Leads To Another
Undiscovered – unimportant?
Out of sight and out of mind?
In a sense it’s lying dormant
Waiting for the world to find
Buried treasure? Cure for cancer?
Meaning of life? Proof of God?
None of the above; the answer
Even though it may sound odd
Is right before our very eyes
Quite simply, vision; clarity
Allowing us to see through lies
Discover truth; reality
19. Tough-Guy Dad
He hadn’t cried since he was six
He’d taken the knocks and fought back
Always the leader of the gang
Thought he had what others lack
Unlike his friends, he got married
Faithful to his wife, loved his son
Some things have to be respected
A happy home is number one
He would never blink an eyelid
When presenting gifts to his lad
No acknowledgement; no ‘thank-you’
Tough-guy lad, just like tough-guy dad
Words were not needed, actions spoke
The final kiss goodnight revealed
The true depth of mutual love
Unconditional, unconcealed
Beside the boy, tucked up in bed
Toys, clothes, gifts tough-guy dad had bought
Wrapped in his arms, close to his heart
Inspired tough-guy dad to deep thought
Turning away to leave the room
Tough-guy dad battled with the tears
That welled up in his tough-guy eyes
Driving out doubt, allaying fears
What about people who say
‘Children should be seen and not heard’?
Had they really paid attention
Considered their thought, deed, or word?
Observation, care, devotion
Render spoken thanks obsolete
The forces of pure emotion
Produce feelings that can’t be beat
Speak gratitudes, give platitudes
Shallow praise for the simple mind
Locking doors, closed by attitudes
Tough guys see all; some think love’s blind
20. What Doesn’t Kill You…
Who am I?
Half of ‘we’ -
Stop trying to fly
I’m no longer crying
Tears shed
Put to bed a long time ago
Oh, I cried
Sure I cried – forever
I cried - tears have all
dried
So I’m not bitter
Fitter now than ever before
Sure, passions paused
And in my loneliness, I doubted
Self-esteem
It took a mighty beating
But I picked up
And started over, on my own terms
Oh, I cried
Sure I cried - forever
I cried - but not any more
An endless dark night
No distant light to guide me back home
Still, I forgive you
Do you have it in you – do you?
Are you ready to open your mind?
Find a reason
To rescue what remains of my heart?
…or not
21. Your Thing
Make the vocal the focal point.
In the background, the sound of jazz.
Hip-hop is born; Be-bop, old hat,
And that yackety sax is torn
From the track, replaced by pure
Mellow tones, that endure, not drone.
Say hello; cherish what you own.
Perish the thought of losing it.
Fusing the muse, refuse the shit.
Keep the spirit of jazz alive;
Allow it to survive. Dig deep,
And an urge will emerge within;
A temptation to commit; not a sin;
A creation; make it fit
The lifestyles; the attitudes,
The moods of the word on the street.
Have you heard the beat that exudes
From every pore, when you play
From the core? Pay your due respect,
And reflect your true sense of pride.
Don’t drop behind and hide your love
Of what you hold above all else.
Ring the bells; shout out loud, state it clear.
Never fear, just be proud of your thing
22. Splitting The Infinitive, Splitting Up Infinity
To split the Infinitive
Is as devastating as
Splitting the Atom, to some.
I don’t know how to do it
Atom, not infinity.
To carefully split a verb
From its infinitive is
Not acceptable at all,
But does it really matter?
Worse things have happened at sea,
Any sailor will tell you.
Do they split infinitives
So they can know without doubt
Which is bad and which is worse?
Let’s look at infinity,
Beginning to end (?) of time.
Almost infinite options.
It can be split up in years
Centuries, Millennia,
Hours, days, weeks; even months.
Then there are minutes; seconds.
In time, anything applies.
To justify existence,
A lifetime is an ‘Era’,
The Past is called ‘History’,
The Present is ‘Here and Now’,
The Future is ‘Yet to Come’.
Infinity and Tenses
Go together, hand in hand.
Why no justification
For splitting Infinitives?
Consider Infinity.
The same consideration
Applies to infinitives
Surely there’s something in that.
To completely illustrate,
(To illustrate completely,)
I’ll offer an example.
I’ll leave you to work it out.
Is it ‘To Over Sleep’? Or
Is it ‘To Sleep Over’? Which?
Was that a Preposition
At the end of a sentence
About five lines ago?
Or are things like that allowed?
Nothing is ever easy!
23. Cliché Clash
You know the old expressions
‘Eyes too close together’
‘I couldn’t even trust him
As far as I could throw him’
That was Johnny to a tee
A former friend, of sorts
When I was just a schoolboy
So many moons ago
He was much smaller than me
‘Knee-height to a grasshopper’
Skinny’ undernourished
Devious expression
But I kind of liked him
He lived on the New Estate
‘The wrong side of the tracks’
Out of bounds, for ‘good boys’
Which I was, in theory at least
I often used to wonder
Just how far I could throw him
A few pounds, soaking wet
I wouldn’t even see him land
‘Porky’ once said to him
‘I can read you like a book’
That one really threw him
(What had ‘Porky’ read lately?)
It just goes to show you though
Nobody should ever try
To ‘judge a book by its cover’
24. Where’s The Justice?
A hundred years from now, we’ll all be dead
A hundred years ago, we weren’t alive
Following in the footsteps that we tread
Others will learn from our mistakes; survive
But will they do any better than us?
Or will they be just like the knockers now?
Never satisfied with what others do
How many times did you hear someone ask
Why do it? Where did it ever get you?
In reference to an interest that you have
An obsession that brings rewards to some?
They just don’t understand the benefits
That are derived from ‘amateur pursuits’
Perhaps they think that they’ve got better things
To occupy their ‘precious’ leisure time
They’re quick enough to ridicule your work
Quoting lack of rewards for your efforts
‘How did it ever benefit you?’ They’ll ask
They obviously mean ‘financially’
Cos money’s all they ever think about
How to get it; what things to waste it on
Without ever fulfilling their ambition
Of living the carefree life of Riley
So of course they’re jealous of things you do
Hoping that you’ll never make it pay
All the while, looking over their shoulder
To check you haven’t ‘hit it big’ this time
When they ask, ‘What do you get out of it?’
You know they’re asking about the money
And reading in between their prying lines
You’re pretty certain what they’re getting at
They’re not asking, ‘Does it give you a buzz?’
They don’t want to know how it makes you feel
The question that they’re really asking, is
‘Where’s my share of anything it got you?’
They’re always looking for rewards for nothing
Despite the unused talents they possess
They’ve never spent a moment of their time
Constructively; working creatively
But as time passes you live, and you learn
To ignore their thinly disguised appeals
They’re not really any of your concern
You hope one day, they’ll find out how it feels
25. Isn’t It?
He’d tell me to leave my window
Open just a touch, at night
And don’t draw the curtains tight-shut
Because the air won’t circulate
And leave your bedroom door ajar
So we’ll always be sure you’re safe
I knew Dad had his own good reasons
Not just a case of ‘just in case’
He’d always wear t
hat hat, with the hole
And leave his top button undone
His manners weren’t always perfect
But who was I to question him?
He drank from a cup with no handle
Chipped and broken, from years of use
Just like the plate that he ate from
‘Unhygienic’ I used to think
He forgave all my misdemeanours
And said “You’ll learn from your mistakes”
He got that right; I’m still learning
And mistakes are part of daily life
“Actions are never automatic
It takes thought to provoke each deed”
Words of wisdom from my father
I’ll remember till my dying day
He shaped my thoughts, my dreams; my life
Asking for nothing in return
A loving dad; he had his faults
Just like anybody else
He was a diamond in the rough
Flawed by life’s consistent unfairness
Fractured, fragmented, forsaken
By the forces of fickle fate
Cast out, displaced, relocated
Rejected by the rogue regime
That raped and pillaged his homeland
He showed no anger, bitterness
I’m not certain time healed all these wounds
But as Leonard Cohen once said
“There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in”…Isn’t it?
26. Vote For…?
Parliamentary by-election
Caused by minister’s defection
Cabinet reshuffle pending
Hansard’s minutes need amending
Constituency paralysed
Sworn allegiances compromised
Converted…? Or impulsive whim?
Floating voters sink or swim
Public opinion takes the view
If you don’t vote red, then you’ll vote blue
Voting yellow is hard to swallow
Undecided – who do you follow?
Left of centre you’re a Communist
Right-wing you’re labelled a Fascist
Liberal by your own volition
…A Molotov Cocktail coalition
Secret ballot, X marks the spot
Cast your vote, throw it in the pot
Exit-poll can only guesstimate
Who will be the likely candidate
Opposition wins by a nose
Adding to the government woes