We may know what’s right and still do wrong
Greed and  envy run our inner world
Like a crazed drunk bee we like to sting

Even as the blackbird is in song
The darkness of the heart will on it fall 
We may know what’s right and still do wrong

We love to think we are the Queen or King
Perfect in our power ,  oh iron  the walls
Yet  crazed drunk bees  can float on high to sting

The hurt inside the heart  can last too long
The self  retreats ,   the matador  has failed
We know  the end , the bull  will kill the throng

When God came down , our spies soon had him nailed
The burning bush , the little voice,   the tales.
We may know what’s right and  do  the wrong
Take pleasure  in our  violence,  kill and sting

The books he wrote were solid like good oak
Giving him a structure that he lacked
A skeleton outside his flesh and bones

 

A fortress made of words and printed thoughts
To hide  behind when torture broke  his back
The books he wrote were solid like good oak

 

If our outer shell encloses,  it deforms
Even brings our death,  unless   it’s cracked
A skeleton outside  but not of bone

 

The books  gave shape to his still  half numb heart
He felt he had no  being, was no fact
The books he wrote  gave breath like leaves of oak

 

Some use crutches, some crawl slowly home
Wandering by  the  shoppers  with  some tact
Oh, skeleton outside, how dry our throats

 

I wonder is  all this by Google tracked?
They watch us, not to help us  nor   perfect
The books he wrote were solid, real  and  taut
A  crucifix  of  words , expressive thoughts

I asked for a new handset for my phone
BT   will provide one totally free
One of them has  broken, don’t I know!

I have several cordless ones at home
They won’t work and I feel all at sea
I asked for a new handset for my phone

Of course I have my Motorola lone
I find it loves me  well  enough for now
My  old phone has  broken, don’t I know!

And then I have a Nokia five point  nine
I keep it in my purse with U.H.U
I  broke the handset on my  landline phone

I like Lenova Tablets set to roam
And Kindle readers  help  me have my tea
My landline  phone won’t register its name

I  can read on androids  truthfully
Now I’ve got ten cordless  phones on me
I asked for a new handset for my phone
One of them  de-registered its soul

I have walked through mud and autumn rain
In  the ancient hunting woods of kings
The dead brown leaves  no longer feel their pain

I see bare branches  which will  green again
The white  doves  flutter, stand upon the wind
I have walked through mud and autumn rain

Shall I love another  or disdain
Humankind who like me have much sinned
The dead brown leaves  no longer steal our pain

One false  move and  love’s  tied up  in chains
We’re trapped inside ourselves  yet  hear bird song
i have walked  regardless of the rain

In drier autumn  love leaves not a stain
Except on  murdered hands  and  golden rings
The dead brown leaves  no longer fear our pain

Demonstrations, vicious underlings
Let all be still and  touch the heart that longs
I have walked till dusk in autumn rain
The dead brown leaves  will warm the earth’s remains

 

 

After catastrophic loss we  long to flee
We want the arms of love to hold us still
But where can we take hate and leave it be?

The inner draw of death, its scenery
The  orders  of the proud, the human will
The  catastrophic loss they  long to see

The lovey,dovey, kisses  will all flee
The  new laws passed , they bless the right to kill
The hero crippled in the Great War  bleeds

Burning Jews  cremated mystery
Dresden was a  graveyard, ghosts so still
Oh   bleeding loss oh tanks , oh hanging tree 

Integration, calculus of need
The atom bomb, the  little toys  that thrill
We   long to sate our demons with God’s blood

Post traumatic agony, the bill
Triggers  haunt the fingers in the till
After catastrophic loss we  long to flee
Hatred split from love’s no victory

The sun shines in the places that haunt me
Not the cave of darkness  and despair
His empty chair ,his love,my memory

What  I was and who  I soon shall  be
How my little time on earth will  fare
The sun peers into places that haunt me

The beauty of the dark red maple tree
He wished to have his ashes buried there
Oh, empty chair  the kindest memory

Regardless , joyous , flowers   will love the bee
I watch them  start their silent love affair
The sun shines in the places that haunt me

I weep into my   android phone, it beeps
Feeling shocked, I gasp ,I need more air
Oh,   startling phone ,  who fillled your memory

Oh, chance and fate,why  blast my heart so bare?
Where is my skin, my boundary, my despair
The sun shines in the places that haunt me
His empty chair, the anguish,  the repair.

 

 

Enjoyment  is the happy side of life
Endurance is hard work , we hate the pain
In  the night the ghastly ghosts arrive

In golden sun the bees buzz round the hive
Enduring needed darkness , we see  plain
Enjoyment  is not attained   by Western lives

In  Bangladesh, our clothes are  made by slaves
We  choose deafness  as they suffer,groan
In the night  revenging ghosts arrive

Up the sea will rise in giant waves
It drowns the poor and weak ,does Darwin mourn?
Endurance  makes the poor  die under strain

The Jews   of Europe had no  holy graves
Now they are accused  of plots again
In  the night,  will Nazi ghosts arrive?

When we die what will of us remain?
Grenfell Tower and Brexit   leave their stain
By trauma  disenfranchised ,unadorned
The  ghosts of the unborn  will  scream in scorn

 

 

Note to readers

I realise now what made me write this.I was recalling a viaduct where the railway crosses the River Kent  and the train then goes to Carlisle.From  this side  one can see the mountains of the Lake District.That makes me think of

I will lift up mine eyes to the hills
From whence cometh my strength

And also it must in my unconscious mind be associated with Calvary as well.But I didn’t realise until I began writing.
As a  child I remember being on a train crossing the wide river.I loved it

 

I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge
Carrying his Cross while all alone
I wonder now if this  was sacrilege

In the past no doubt I was a witch
People hit me, mocked me with their stones
I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge

He looked so sad but did not bear a grudge
Soon his flesh would wither on his bones
I wonder if  my writing’s sacrilege

On ward to the mountains Jesus trudged
I think I heard a sound like a slight groan
I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge

With many  tears  his human face was smudged
What was wrong when this world was designed?
I wonder if  my writing’s sacrilege

His  holy spirit   is now unconfined
Where  will we hear the whisper,small, divine?
I saw Jesus on a wooden bridge
I wonder now if this  was sacrilege

When you sentenced me to painful loss
To give birth in a desert stony , grey
I felt like rubbish from a window tossed

Although you did not have to pay the cost
I had wished you’d speak to me again
Despite you sentenced me to painful loss

You gave me not a warning but a test
To see if love and care might still remain
I felt like rubbish from a window tossed
I felt your words strike like a dagger thrust

I knew then it was a cruel game

To make me feel the agony of loss
I know your play with me was never just
What of the child who should have borne your name?
We feel like rubbish from a window tossed

Now I stumble , will I be detained?
I have no papers, no-one to obtain
You cruelly sentenced us to painful loss

From your home my fertile body tossed

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