Essex harvest

The fields in flames, the stubble set alight
The earth herself was burning in our sight
The ancient lands of Essex still grew grain
As hares ran into hedgerows fearing pain

The empty road, the smoke, the land on fire
The ashes left a newer crop would sire
The land to Epping vast and flat was bright
Yet covered in its smoke there was no light

Our little human world is but a skin
Destruction easy with a word or bomb
Dependent on the government, those liars
Weak as watered gruel, they must be fired

Caught inside the symbols of the Earth
From destruction comes a brave new birth


You can steal this if you want to because it’s not very good

I don’t want to see reality

With friends I am frequently curt

I attack before others attack me

For accepting real knowledge will hurt.

I don’t think that I am autistic

 I love to have an excuse.

I blame what goes wrong on my family

I’m causing the others distress.

I’m afraid that I will be defenceless 

like a snail that has broken its shell.

Someone will tread on me, crush me 

I am afraid of my tenper as well

I can’t see all of reality

The pain is so hard to relate

I shall see a bit more if you help me

Because that real knowledge does hurt