Category: Visual Words

Little Grey Men

You’re a little grey man

Glib and benign

Charismatic too

A very bad sign

No empathy or guilt

No conscience or remorse

Impulsive, grandiose

And callous of course

Lying is your forte

It’s the best you can be

Manipulative and cunning

That’s you to a T

With your superficial charm

As your main claim to fame

You charmed the socks off me

Again and again

Could have fooled me forever

But the truth is out

I’ve got your number

I know what you’re about

You didn’t succeed

I think you had a fail

I dodged that bullet

Escaped that jail

Little grey men

And women are here

Blending in so well

That they almost disappear

In families and at work

Among our very kin

Pretending to be nice

Destroying from within

Kings and Queens of the cowards

There’s many of them

They don’t deal in colour

These grey woman and men

Wolf in sheep’s pelt

They hide from the light

They’re very good at hiding

Right here in plain sight

When I meet your like again

I can’t guarantee

That I won’t be burned again

Another time or three

You go on your way

I took back all you stole

But psychopath-remember now

I SEE you by your soul

Just Give Me One Minute

Just give me one minute and I’ll be right there. I just need to do this little thing with my hair. I’m not always late, I’m sometimes on time. It’s not always your fault, it’s usually mine. Just give me one minute, just one minute more. I just have to mop up this spill on the floor. I’m busy like Martha, but more like Mary I should be, enjoying the moment, instead of making tea. A silence is needed, to hear the drop of a pin. I’m busy doing nothing, getting into a spin. Need to stay calm and attentive, Mary had it right. Listen to a friend, be serene tonight. I’m learning to love the moment and being still at the core. No time like the present, won’t waste a second more. You look as if you need a friend. I think that is my cue. I don’t need one more minute. I’m here to talk to you.

Ancient History

Like the Sumarians

Where the first river valley flowed

And the Romans

With their emperors and their roads

Like the Egyptians

With their science and tech headstarts

Like the Greeks

And their philosophy and their art

Like the Aztecs

With their agriculture of course

Like the Byzantines

And their exceptional military force

Like the Kush

Where skillful archers were made

Like the steppes

For its routes of travel and trade

Like the Indus valley

For its systems of measures and weights

And their building tricks

Of a highly advanced sort of state

Like the Phoenicians time

And a thousand years at sea

Like the world a long, long time ago

You’re ancient history.

Lonely Town

I know a place called Lonely Town

It’s got a pub and a resident clown

It has no lights that go on at night

It just gives up, without a fight

It has no hope, no belief

It can’t forgive, this town of grief

Lonely Town, need to get away

Outstayed my welcome, don’t want to stay

Time to forgive, time to hope

Time to cut this binding rope

I’ll pack my bags, won’t back down

No backward glance, I’ll leave this town

Once, you served me well

Like sadists often do

But now, Lonely Town, I’m moving on

To pastures green and new.

Summer Song

(or Don’t You Wish Your Girlfriend Read a Book Like Me?)

Where’d my book go GQ?

The one I lent to you?

‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’

You said you liked the theme

It was a first edition

Now I am on a mission

I dig that book a lot

You need to drop it like its hot

Give me back my book

It was meant to be read

You used its pages

To do dope instead

I read it in the sun

chillin’ like a villain

I am never lonely

Shakespeare is my only

Thought you were a John Blaze

A Mc Dreamy snack

But you’re not off the hizzy

Buster, you just wack

Now you need to run the jewels

Or you’re gonna lose

Literature bites

It’s how I got my stripes

You’re not ‘off the hook’

Give me back my book

We had a trump tight season

Now I’m out of reason

My trust was at the max

Now your ass is grass

Summer is over

And so are we

Never a lender or a borrower be.

Ode To Adam Fresco

He wouldn’t let us eat him, or drink him during break

He never let us beat him, or bake him in a cake

But never once did we wish to cut off his legs

Or impale him on a stick

We wouldn’t dream of killing him, for fear of making him sick

He taught us how to act, had passion for plays

Knew all about the theatre, made us crave the stage

I think he understood us, like great teachers only could

And I think we understood him, like only mothers could

Now Adam’s in New Zealand, doing all of the same things

Encouraging students writing

And inspiring all their dreams.

Hope Is Long

Hope is long

When you’re born.

It’s longer than a cold, cold night

And keeps you nice and warm

Hope is deep

When you take your first step

It goes up past your waist

Gets your ears wet

When you go to school

Hope trails right behind

Sometimes tangles up

But is always there to find

And when you are a teenager

And school is done

Hope becomes a lasso

To catch the sun

And in your twenties

There’s nothing you can’t do

Hope is like a coat

That looks really good on you

And as the years go by

And your youth, it flies away

Your hope becomes a friend

That you cling to every day

And you take life’s knocks

The bores and the thrills

The birthday cards stop coming

And you’re left with all the bills

And that door that is closing

Is getting harder to push

The dreams have all grown up

And they don’t come and visit as much

And you’re standing there one day

And you suddenly start to think

What happened to your hope?

Is it beginning to shrink?

It’s no longer dancing

Bright eyed and bushy tailed

Shorter than an ankle sock

And looking rather pale

You can’t wrap it around anywhere

It’s not flexible or strong

In fact, it’s disappearing

Where did it all wrong?

One day you look around you

And hope has surely gone

It either ran off with the milkman

Or hitchhiked further on

So now, you have no option

There’s only one thing left to do

You must create some new hope

And forget the one that flew

No time to waste – just time to sit

To mend and stitch and sew

And knit yourself a new hope

That will never ever go.

The Time I Got Lost

I’m standing by the sweets

And I shuffle on my feets

Now I see that mum was right

When we got into a fight

About how much they cost

The time I got lost

I think I might just sit

I’m not brave a bit

I’m in such a fix

‘cos I’m only six

(well, five and a half)

My tummy is in knots

The time I got lost

I wish that people cared

Now I’m getting scared

The cleaner pushed his mop

I couldn’t make him stop

And I got sploshed

The time I got lost

Corridors of food

But I wasn’t in the mood

Normally I like cheeses

But I am by the freezers

I’m afraid I’m going to cry

Frozen fish with one big eye

I’m in the ice caps of Iceland

Oh, why’d I let go her hand?

I fell down on my knees

Won’t someone help me please?

I was truly in the frost

The day I got lost.

And out among the toys

There were only naughty boys

And dinosaurs that roared

and trolls that made me bored

With goo dripping from his fangs

The monster – there, he hangs!

He thought he was the boss

The time I got lost

And now she runs towards me

Oh, look, it’s mummy

All she does is grins

My world no longer spins

So afraid I thought I’d be

That I did a little wee

But now I am found

I’ll soon be homeward bound

And all is not lost

The time I got lost.

I Love little Furry Things

I love little furry things

that whizz across the floor

That no one can identify

It makes me love them more

And if they have long tails

It doesn’t induce fright

And if they have big whiskers

It fills me with delight

I love little furry things

anything rodent shaped

That might crawl up your leg

And make the faint heart faint

I just don’t get it

Why are we scared of them?

They’re soft and they are fuzzy

From where did our fears stem?

Why do they scare the elephant

When it is so big?

Why do they scare the human race

When they’re the size of a small wig?

Oh, I love little furry things

That dart across the floor

It’s true, they nibble a lot

But they don’t shout or roar

I love little furry things

That get eaten by cats

They’re much smaller than us

So don’t kill them in traps

So, the moral of this story stands

Well, there is no moral really

Just be kind to those of us

Who are small and cute and furry.

 

He’s Coming Home

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

I’d not forgotten his face

Or the sound of his voice

I’d not forgotten his smile

My heart gave me no choice

I would close my eyes

And count to ten

And have the crystal clear dream

I’d wake up from again

But I’m not asleep anymore

There’s warmth from the sun

And bad times are over

This war is now done

He’s coming home

After all this time

He’s coming home

At long last, he’s mine

It might take a while

To finally feel free

But he’s coming home soon

He’s coming home to me