He didn’t always see the light,

But he went out

In a blaze of glory.

He said: it isn’t what you care to do,

It’s what you dare to do.

Life is so short,

But sometimes it can be

Such a long story.

He’s leaving Home.

He’s found a better place.

He went out

In a blaze of glory.

I’m really in a terrible state!

What shall it be?

Paint a painting or write a tune?

One that rhymes the Moon with June,

Or sing a song?

The kind where folks can sing along.

What about a book?

A clever one about learning to cook?

Or maybe a novel,

With characters and plot,

Not just about whodunnit but what!

But wait a bit,

Might not that be

A trifle long and hard for me?

And don’t they say,

That a screen-play

Can be written in little more than a day?

And crude as it sounds

The rewards can be way out of sight,

If only you can get the Green Light!

So let me see….

Which of the above would be best for me?

Or better yet,

It might be quite a lot easier to let

The shadows fall,

And not do anything creative at all!

Tough and cool,

Don’t take no prisoners,

Nobody’s fool.

Loves her mum,

Sisters too.

Shops for vintage

In the market,

Goes out on Fridays

For a lark,

There’s no doubt at all

She’s making her mark.

Fresh out of school,

She’s London Cool.

Was nineteen sixty two.

I was just a kid,

But the great thing is,

That they were just kids too.

We were having a Revolution,

Both social and musical too,

And growing our hair

And God knows what,

Although we hadn’t a clue.

If you’d asked us what was happening,

We would most probably say,

Bewildered as per usual,

It’s just another day.

It’s only when you look back,

And people say ‘The Sixties!’

We were there if we did but know it,

At the time it was

Just bills to pay!

And you’ve got a full tum,

It’s not a bad plan,

For a busy man,

To go for a rest-a,

What the Spanish call Siesta.

In short, after a sensible gap,

A Nap.

A nap is highly recommended,

By those in the know,

For health-giving benefits,

Both physical and mental,

Increasing one’s potential,

For the rest of the day.

It’s said that President Kennedy,

Greatly increased his energy,

In a mere few minutes,

Of power-napping his limits.

Thus he went on to slay,

The dragons of the day,

Like President K,

And the nuclear threat,

Of the So-Vi-Et.

It doesn’t have to be,

For the likes of you and me,

A Power Nap as such.

Just a closing of the eyes,

And after a few sighs,

A drowsy surrender

To an hour or so’s slumber.

And when you awake,

Refreshed and re-charged,

You’re ready for anything - at least within reason -

That Life might you lumber!

Of course! Sloane Square!

And I was born near there!

Went there in my pram with Nanny,

To Peter Jones.

Which is more

Than just a store.

It’s a way of life,

For a certain slice,

Of humanity,

Who need unlimited opportunity to shop,

And a restaurant on top,

That’s always been there,

In Sloane Square,

With a comfort-food menu,

And an excellent view,

Of Sloane Square.

It’s the gateway to Belgravia one way,

And Pimlico Road and God knows where the other.

Yes- the Universe fans out from Sloane Square.

Maybe I’ll see you there!

In London Town,

With Hitler’s doodlebugs raining down!

Bit of a shock to be greeted by!

Out of the womb and into a sky,

Full of hostile things that roared and stopped,

And dropped, suddenly and silently,

Then landed violently.

Another house or street destroyed.

It’s the nearest we here ever got,

To what

It must be like all the time,

In Lebanon 🇱🇧 and Palestine🇵🇸.

A Big Deal for London, the Blitz.

Ruined streets and homes,

Ruined lives and rubble.

War can be a lot of trouble.

Eighty plus years ago we knew it here.

It’s been peaceful since. And maybe we’ve forgotten.

But what about the streets and homes now,

That, without a Hitler,

Get bombed day and night,

Because…? What is the reason?

When reason has flown, and been replaced by Hate.

We call it Genocide,

When you can be destroyed for who you are,

Not what you did or didn’t do.

You’re going to die for the simple reason

That you are you.

So all the world can sing along -

In other words a song!

And set to music of the kind that stays

Inside the heads of millions!

In this way

A lasting legacy would be mine to thank,

And lots and lots of money in my bank!

Wrote a poem,

Sat back down

In my chair.

Now what’s next?

Not that much,

It has to be said.

Now that you’re old,

With nothing to do,

Except maybe ponder

On the bypast yonder.

At least you are not

Actually dead!!

In the golden light of afternoon,

In the morning when I open my eyes,

When I need to rise,

But long to lie

In drowsy peace,

And never face the awful day,

That only ever leads to awful night.

Then will I stare with sightless eyes,

Into the pitiless dark .

When will it ever go away ?

When will it end?

How many hours will there be,

Before I see the dawning

Of the exhausted morning?

Whose prospects had gone down the drain.

When they said sorry - pass!

He said Grass in yer Arse!

In future I think I’ll refrain!

There was a young man from Verona,

Who got stoner and stoner and stoner.

When he ran out of weed

He resorted to speed,

That schizoid young man from Verona.

What’s the difference?

From the inside not so much.

In many ways

You are still

The same old you.

But from the outside -

Say in the mirror-

Who the guck is that old git!

It’s a shock best avoided if you can.

Keeping the Denial going is the key.

Yes OK! That old geezer is me!

There’s no need to make a song about it!

Or a dance, come to that,

Something else you no longer seem to be,

Quite so flexible and free

At as you used to be.

So what’s the answer?

Here’s the key:

There isn’t one!

Not in reality.

You need to take refuge

In Fantasy!

As you pass shop windows,

(Hobbling along!)

Keep your eyes

In a straight ahead direction.

Look at anything

But your own reflection!

Think youthful thoughts,

And when you breathe,

Try not to do it,

Quite so stertorously!

Do not gasp,

Or give the impression,

To passers-by,

That you might be

About to die!💀

It’s all in the mind,

But if it’s also

In the heart❤️

Then if you want to

Stay on track,

Make sure the next word

Isn’t ‘Attack!’

Who never went to war,

He’s much too polite

To get in a fight.

I say I’m awfully sorry!

I really didn’t mean

To barge in!

That’s quite OK!

I mean to say,

Don’t I know your sister?

She’s lots of fun!

Especially when she’s had

A couple of rums!

Would you say that?

You ARE talking about

My sister you know.

I wouldn’t want to have

To knock your block off!

You and whose army matey!

I’d like to see you,

You stupid toff!

You beastly oik!

I wouldn’t want to BE you!

You can just fuck off!

Fight fight fight!

Oh the delight

Of getting the testosterone

Out into the light.

Gent or oik,

They’re all the same,

When it comes to being right,

In the endless game

Of Mano a Mano.

Which doesn’t actually mean,

What it sounds like.

Want to make something of it?

Whatever shall we do?

I haven’t got a clue!

I was thinking of asking you.

You are so very wise,

At least compared to me!

So what would you advise?

I’m afraid I’m all at sea

When it comes to this kind of thing.

I never seem to know

Which way I should go,

And I always get it wrong.

You’ve no idea how I long

To be the one who knows

Exactly how it goes,

And so is always right.

And not just on the night,

But almost all the time,

And what’s more makes it rhyme!!

I wish my life could be

A clear and tranquil sea,

With calm and sunny skies,

And peace☮️ still dropping slow,

Like the poet used to know.

Instead of which we find

A Muddle left behind,

For all the world to see,

In memory of me!

Oh well, that’s how it goes,

For most of us I suppose,

And like Winnie without the Pooh,

We somehow muddle through!

That’s speaking for me.

And millions and billions like me, you see,

Who do not feel the need to fight and die ,

Or have Death rain down on us from the sky.

We just want to be allowed to muddle through,

And do the things that humans like to do,

Like love and work and dream and all the rest,

NOT dreams of World Domination

Like The Few.

This Bunch of Bastards

Who - you can count them on one hand,

Versus us billions ,

Yet who somehow get

To call the shots.

And I DO mean shots!

Lots and lots

Of bangs and bombs and ruined lives -

Not theirs of course!

Oh no! They are immune!

They only call the tune,

Which goes Win Win.

Too bad if you don’t like it!

Who are you to say?

When we have all the power and money and the rest ,

To make or break the millions of peaceful lives

That you all live.

It simply will not do!

We have a war to wage,

And probably two!

This merry morn

To try to get my money to be

In a state that I could see,

Comprehensively.

I saw a nice lady

Who came to my aid,

But spoke a different language to me.

She said now let me see-

Do you have a user- name or password

That refers to your account?

I said I just need the amount

Of money I can spend or save

Before I’m in my grave.

I’m eighty-three you see,

And I’m afraid my memory

Isn’t all it used to be!

She said well that’s too bad,

Because all the money you had

Has gone.

And if you can’t recall

What you did with it all,

Then there’s nothing much we can do

But close your account and say-

Have a nice day!

Rooks and crows,

Which is which?

Does anyone know?

Both are black,

And both go Caw!

Which, come to think of it,

Does the Jackdaw.

And what, you might say,

About the Raven?🐦‍⬛

Made strangely popular

By Edgar Alan Poe,

That’s not the only thing

You need to know!

Because if the London Tower ravens

Ever fly away

Then the Kingdom will fall!

Oh terrible day!

That nothing good

EVER comes of war.

Just a lot of suffering and pain,

And money down the drain.

How can we explain,

Who are the led,

To the leaders

Who decide our fate,

Who never seem to listen

But just go ahead

Instead.

Until a lot of people

Are dead.

Things around here are getting a bit mucking futch!

Somewhere with no politicians would be good,

Who keep getting it wrong and then changing their mind,

Only to get it even wronger the second time.

Also, the water might be free,

And other things, that grow on the trees, or

Swim in the seas, you know what I mean.

An idyllic Utopia !!

None of this is very likely I know.

Most likely be reached in the mind,

I think you’ll find ,

Than any spacecraft.

And that river I failed to mention,

Is probably DeNial!!!!

Is a good way to start

A story or a rhyme.

And then what? You May say.

Expectations are high

From those evocative words.

I mean is there a point

You’re trying to make,

Or are you just wasting my time!