Why Do People Hate This Way?

I don’t understand adult wickedness
Troubled violent people in a mess
There is no scope for a clear reason
To exist within or near their circle
The terror they bring, what on Earth
Is their meaning? The evil intention
Scares their victims to shreds
Blood runs cold, blood runs freely
When the violence begins bluntly
Pressing on a vulnerable body
What hatred in their hearts they hold
Sinking to the gutter.
Seeking only the power
To control to terrify to kill
Leaving deep scars on hearts
That are not ever meant to heal
Confusion hurt pain
That lasts for months, years
Why do such as these hate this way
Ignoring the consequence
Flirting with a prison sentence.
Flinging fists, strangleholds
Pinning down their victims
Scum is not even a suitable name
For the attackers have no shame.
These have no feelings, what game
Are they intending to play?
Stalking their victims each and every day,
Menacing those who were made scared.

I am not cut from the same cloth
I have no violent intent to others
My offerings are tenderness and care,
I could never strike someone weaker.
It is cowardly to hurt a child or woman
With fists, big hands, kicking,
I vomit at the sight of them
Harming less strong and abled victims
Every day I hear of husband anger
Turn to merciless cold danger
The child beaters are everywhere
Like a curse that turns sour our very air
Regular slaps, put downs, insults, punches
Clearly such revolting men and women
Have no love for their spouse or children
Have no real capacity to love
Only themselves to distraction
The evilness to seek satisfaction
Through dishing out pain and humiliation
They are worse than wild beasts,
Depraved souls seeking subjugation
I don’t lower the standing of humans
To thinking perpetrators of violence
Are anything other than gutter trash
Why do such people hate this way?
I don’t understand the where for or harm
Nor do I waste my time wondering why
What happened to their humanity
They despise goodness and decency
Their abuse and threats met only
By the weight of the law occasionally
These low life escape retribution
Which would be more satisfactory
More fitting to match their savagery.
From where does my anger come
Is there a latent nest of confusion
Settled within me waiting to emerge
When I learn of people violence urge.
Is it because someone has been angry at me
Or have I witnessed too much pain really
Caused by violence to vulnerability
Towards men women and children
Too weak to resist superior strength.

For decades I have actively protested
Set up support for victims of bullying
For really people violence is bullying.
Bullies can only be satisfied by the pain
They inflict on their weaker targets
Such is their grim satisfaction and yet
They have no shortage of victims
To speak to people who were bullied
Maybe in childhood through neglect
Or active violence, threats, put downs
By adults parents teachers clowns
Maybe attacks by partners spouses
Those you thought you could trust
The destruction is almost complete
The scars from the pain go deep
Why do such people hate this way?
My meagre words of empathy
Seem so pathetic as I listen keenly
To those who have received violence
Those gratified by punching, the consequence
They are wilfully blind towards.
Not a moment of feeling inwards
Occurs to sociopathic man or woman
They have no love towards another
Only contempt hatred disdain no other.
The idea of a killer who likes the feel of blood
Oozing between their savage fingers
Is fascinated and gains a carnal pleasure
Watching their victim fading from life
Wanting this control using their knife.

My disgust towards the perpetrators
Sometimes is raw indignation
Absent of sympathy or tolerance
Such violence forced upon weaker souls
Penetrates my heart leaving holes
That need the healing of the universe
Revenge towards the bully is tempered
By thinking of repercussions
Towards the victims of assault and battery
No need to bring the week more misery.

Childhood traumas caused by hitting
Last a person all their life through
It lives within them always, it is true
Abusers, child haters, wife beaters, bombers
Will find no understanding within me
My instinct is to be between victim and bully
Is profound it will move me to action
To provide in some small way protection.
Whether Israeli bombing of innocent children
Or domestic torturing of victims
My ire will grow quickly towards them
The givers of violence I show no kindness
They would not understand niceness
For they spit upon those they harm
They despise those people they hurt
They try to squash them into the dirt
For some there is no escape, not today.
Why do such people hate this way?

When Home Is a Prison

Verse 1
Home is a prison when
Lighted newspapers come through the frontdoor
Home is torture
When graffiti is plastered all over the walls
Home is purgatory
When my children are spat on and kicked
Home is nothing
When my grandparents are beaten up
Home is far away
Thousands of miles away when boots crush my skull
Home is on another continent
Maybe I’ll return there one day to escape the daily hostility

Verse 2
I don’t live in a cardboard box
I live in a shit smeared block of flats.
I’m not a prisoner of conscience
I’m not fighting a bloody war
I’m living in East Ham in fear
I’m not a powerful mad man killing all
I’m behind a wall
Cowering frightened
Waiting to be attacked
I’m a Pakistani in England that’s all.

Verse 3
White neighbourhood watch scheme
Keeping an eye out for the blacks,
Waiting to shop them to the police
Just for being in my street, being black.

Verse 4
I build a monument in my living room
To the brutality shown in the TV arena
Where lions devour my children
Teachers wipe out their faces
The monument I build
Is made of bones taken from Dachau
Transported to Coventry
I sleep next door to the SS men
Who want to cut off my feet
But I don’t sleep
For I am building a monument
That will live after I have gone
To choose a name for my work
Is simple enough
Mein Kampf
The monument is of me
Kneeling in chains
Under the boot
Of the skinhead regime.

Verse 5
The baying of wolves
The darkest moon of condemnation
The banners of injustice
Pass my front door
As if to ignore
My imprisonment.
Ye turn out in numbers to party
To bring the eyes of good men to shame
Ye learn not of the golden light
But that which scolds the power of fame.
Listen ye not to bringers of noisy processions
Tell yourself that good will triumph
Only when all good people
Leave their video armchairs
Proclaim that peace is not a gift
To be found in the future
But is the essence of justice
To be found today.
Make tomorrow’s love today’s reality.


To Willie

Willie Leroy Jones
The desert gas station
Blasted by sun with sand
Lifts the eye from out of the ground,
250 miles across Arizona,
They day has melted down,
Cooling tha engine while legs are stretched
Looking out across the savannahs
Wondering how wide the sky is
Why we never have the clouds visit ...
Coasting towards the sierras
Blinded by the night
Seeking our horizons wanting a brief respite,
We are near the motel
Or are those lights another dream,
The next morning
The searchers’ arms wrapped
Themselves around the car
As I sped
Head
Long
Into another session of driving –
Through breathless are diving
Through sunlight, dryness jiving
For the ache of travel
Is the ache of searching
Despite the spectacular surrounding
The greyness of not finding
Is the lead weight of expectation.
The desert high jinx swallowed me whole
The smiling spirit of the plateaus
Point a wary finger at shimmering hotel bars
My mind’s eye pierces this nonsense
As we cruise at 60 mph
As we search for the road covered in sand
As we dissect this moonscape land
As the spirit of desert puts out its huge hand
Feeling the forced of circumstance
Knowing the journey to be wise.
I’m able to ignore the reluctance,
Give out each day so much more.
We glide across Arizona
We sweep into the Texas range
For help is always around me,
Never once did I find this strange.
Listening to Chuck Berry
On the local radio
We swing across the highways
With no particular place to go?
We Jim Reeves into Huntsville
We have come
Listening we’ve always done
To the sound of distant drums.
The electric man was asked to go
The gas man not allowed
We meet the medic
With the devil in his hand.
The smile of death was in his head
As he administered midazolam
Plus the last rites into those –
Who in their dread
In their prostrate stranglehold
Struggled no more,
The Lord’s work for sure
Yup the comfort of only doing what is right
With God on your side
You can drug the murderer outta sight.
With The Move drumming out its sound
I’m a California Man
We swing our journey to the Golden State
Lifting the murky carpet high
We have the electric date
Of – let’s see ‘em when they fry.
The love and peace of Frisco
Seems like a pathetic disco
Where the decks have exploded
The discs were made of ice
Sizzle ye your citizens
But not at all very nice
For although God is on your side
It’s the other side you have to abide
Listen not ye to duty’s fame
Watch out for damnation’s flame
As you – American kill off the lame
Electrocute gas hang shoot shoot up
Unrelenting God’s work
Revenge, bathing in blood
The downfall of empires
Sent from above.
You who have killed love
You who drink the blood
You who deny the spirit
Your rewards are centuries away,
You reap only what you sew
Watch out when you go
For you’re dealing in death
Won’t let you go
Your duty to the State
Will diminish your own fate
You will return to this Earth
Stay here till you have learnt
The wisdom and love
Of the Universe
Not getting out of the plane
As we touch down again
In the middle of Arizona desert
For all I can see through the sweat
Are plateaus, sand and blazing skies
I’m bored by the red and blue
But I’m buoyed by the coming hue
That reflects the ancient eyes.
Oh Arizona!
Your Indian braves
Your men and women of fame
Have a pocketful of stars
Give us this day our daily blame
Forgive us our stupidity
As we forgive those
That are stupid towards us
And lead us not into execution
Deliver us from duty
For thine is the kingdom
The Power and the glory
Forever and ever
For all men.

this is a poem about Willie Leroy Jones who was electrocuted for the murders of Graham and Myra Adkins in their Charles City home. He knew the Adkins couple, who were in their late 70s, through their son. For more about this go to https://murderpedia.org/male.J/j1/jones-willie-leroy.htm#google_vignette

Opening the Door

When opening the door to reality, the stars seem to shine brighter
And the weight of the world’s worries became lighter
For the open door looks outwards and inwards
To a place where time stands still
To a moment where movement is all but nil.

Opening the door to let the sun-reality stream into the mind
Isn’t an excursion into a new religion, you’ll find,
Hymns aren’t necessary nor are prayers
For the opening door ignores the worshipping crowds
For the reality, when the thoughts fly easily are allowed.

When opening the door we can hold hands with the past
Speak to our relatives who passed through this doorway
For the opening door leads us on eventually to explore
Our inner spaces as intrepid explorers discover the new world
Our inner silences can drown out the illusion we know only too well.

Opening the door bestows a responsibility on all who gaze beyond
For the reality is there to be explained, to be, at last, known
Ignore the scenes what is behind the opening door
You will live as a lizard scratching the bare floor
With only a boulder to rely on, for comfort and love.

I open the door on to the reality which wants us to know
We can tune in, if we want to, if we can only become slow
Expanding awareness a thousand fold
Gazing as the door opens still wider, I see the gold
That lies hidden in the hearts and minds of everyone’s soul.

Behind the opening door cosmic awareness
Becomes like a gigantic puzzle
As each piece connects with a larger piece
That connects with the whole that lives inside us all.

Violet indigo blue green yellow orange and red
Streams the colours as they shine in my head
A spectrum of truth
That shines upon the path
Leading through the opening door
Leading on to where the love is more.
Real than each dawning day
More real than anyone could ever say.

You may find your pot of gold
In the rainbow heart
You feel as you become a part
Of the universe that is you and within you
That love is you and you are love
Not at any time will you despair
Having opened the door with such care.

Once the door becomes a glittering show of reality
It will fade away into infinity
Your heart will join with your head
As you wave to all the people who are dead,
Listen to their laments and advice
The door stays open – so should your mind.

America

The desert gas station
Blasted by sun with sand
Lifts the eye from out of the ground,
250 miles across Arizona,
The day has melted down,
Cooling tha engine while legs are stretched
Looking out across the savannahs
Wondering how wide the sky is
Why we never have the clouds visit ...
Coasting towards the sierras
Blinded by the light
Seeking our horizons wanting a brief respite,
We are near the motel
Or are those lights another dream,
The next morning
The searchers’ arms wrapped
Themselves around the car
As I sped
Head
Long
Into another session of driving –
Through breathless are diving
Through sunlight, dryness jiving
For the ache of travel
Is the ache of searching
Despite the spectacular surrounding
The greyness of not finding
Is the lead weight of expectation.
The desert high jinx swallowed me whole
The smiling spirit of the plateaus
Point a wary finger at shimmering hotel bars
My mind’s eye pierces this nonsense
As we cruise at 60 mph
As we search for the road covered in sand
As we dissect this moonscape land
As the spirit of desert puts out its huge hand
Feeling the forced of circumstance
Knowing the journey to be wise.
I’m able to ignore the reluctance,
Give out each day so much more.
We glide across Arizona
We sweep into the Texas range
For help is always around me,
Never once did I find this strange.
Listening to Chuck Berry
On the local radio
We swing across the highways
With no particular place to go?
We Jim Reeves into Huntsville
We have come
Listening we’ve always done
To the sound of distant drums.
The electric man was asked to go
The gas man not allowed
We meet the medic
With the devil in his hand.
The smile of death was in his head
As he administered midazolam
Plus the last rites into those –
Who in their dread
In their prostrate stranglehold
Struggled no more,
The Lord’s work for sure
Yup the comfort of only doing what is right
With God on your side
You can drug the murderer outta sight.
With The Move drumming out its sound
I’m a California Man
We swing our journey to the Golden State
Lifting the murky carpet high
We have the electric date
Of – let’s see ‘em when they fry.
The love and peace of Frisco
Seems like a pathetic disco
Where the decks have exploded
The discs were made of ice
Sizzle ye your citizens
But not at all very nice
For although God is on your side
It’s the other side you have to abide
Listen not ye to duty’s fame
Watch out for damnation’s flame
As you – American kill off the lame
Electrocute gas hang shoot shoot up
Unrelenting God’s work
Revenge, bathing in blood
The downfall of empires
Sent from above.
You who have killed love
You who drink the blood
You who deny the spirit
Your rewards are centuries away,
You reap only what you sew
Watch out when you go
For you’re dealing in death
Won’t let you go
Your duty to the State
Will diminish your own fate
You will return to this Earth
Stay here till you have learnt
The wisdom and love
Of the Universe
Not getting out of the plane
As we touch down again
In the middle of Arizona desert
For all I can see through the sweat
Are plateaus, sand and blazing skies
I’m bored by the red and blue
But I’m buoyed by the coming hue
That reflects the ancient eyes.
Oh Arizona!
Your Indian braves
Your men and women of fame
Have a pocketful of stars
Give us this day our daily blame
Forgive us our stupidity
As we forgive those
That are stupid towards us
And lead us not into execution
Deliver us from duty
For thine is the kingdom
The Power and the glory
Forever and ever
For all men.

Living Is the Way

Standing out in front
Caring not of what lies behind
Is like taking a dagger
By the blade

Pushing it in to the hilt
Inside somehow
Releasing hot embers every now
And again.

Don’t go deep into the need for religion
Don’t ride the roller coaster of submission
Keep the head high
Shoulders straight back

Because you have to try
And have it melted down
Before it captures you
Turns you into a religious clown.

Don’t turn on the taps of gushing Christianity
Keep the faith
Purify the understanding of spirit
By living – breathing – loving.

Sanctifty ye not the eternal flame
Don’t cast the love into useless blame
Render the lost path of Christian fame
An obsolete and reckless game.

For spirit is no picnic – ‘tis no game
But we’re all the same
You are there to shake the tree of life
Give the cross to the devil.

Who invented that?
Make all false words
Reach into the gloom
Make your heart skip to the moon.

For in the skipping
You are really living
For living is the way
Of the eternal spirit.

Take it and ram it down the ideals
Of false saints, render the hapless
Cosy minded souls an icy blast
Remind them love costs the universe an eternity.

Live it love is the second nature
That resides in all of us for sure
Give it as you walk side by side
With the one we k now as Jesus.

Make it as he will give you his hands
With the love that spans this world
Explore it you become a medium
Not enslaved to continuous oblivion.

Wonder at it as your life will enter
The final phase in colour in love
An eternity dancing its last
When the music was nearly over.

The scented shelf fell into a golden levee
Strong enough to melt the mind
We pranced our hearts out really
We asked for more than a drink.

“I’m pretty, but sordid, I think.”
But all the words merged in an endless dream
Our lives became a constant swim between
Reality – make believe – reality again.

Please let me see the sun again
Let the words blow away
Gazing at the ravine bottom
He jumped into a certain space.




It’s Like Talking to the Devil

Vintage illustration of from an 18th Century Chapbook. English Folklore, Mother Shipton, Ursula Southeil an English soothsayer and prophetess. Talking with a Witch, Devil and warlock flying brooms
I hear you say - are you a psychopath, am I a psychopath?
You have trodden on my heart and scooped it out
And taken it in your hands and thrown it all about.
The jackboots you used upon me bruised my soul,
You left marks upon me: but I wanted to be whole.

Destruction was the name of your game, I can tell
You used and abused my soft heart and sent me to hell.
You took advantage of my generous caring ways
And gave me the blows, the shouts: I was so afraid,
Fear is the very core of my being, for certain.

I know deep down your reasons were only trite excuses
You used the chains of fear and took advantage
You were to be king over my dented half truth life
I was putty willingly in your pitiless grasp and fist
You sent strange messengers to my brain covered in mist.

At first I could not hear the messages said
It was like entering the garden of paradise, dead!
You made me ask the question, what is the fucking point,
This is no way to live, sure was no way to die, in joint
Misunderstanding and mis-directed threats and cajoles.

I was used and abused by those who I thought loved me,
I was so badly taken in by charmers in sheep’s clothing
I was prey to the wolves, who wanted to eat my brain
I bear the inner scars: I am not letting happen to me again
I wish only to jump ship and take to the waves of uncertainty.

I want to find a desert island somewhere that would protect me
I don’t need or deserve this kinda shit, no way, no how,
I am my own person, I want to live well always and now
I did not come into this world to be someone else’s plaything
Nor do I want to be a punchbag, a skivvy or a slave to your whims.

Circumstances has been my keenest low companion,
String me along, locked in chains, like carrion
Lying in a field helpless with no way to ward off beaks and claws
I was left lying in tears bewildered, but what is the cause?
I cried a thousand rivers that flooded my perceptions.

I called out loud to God to relieve me, he was not listening!
I battled the devils that railed horribly against me
Through the tears I saw distorted faces I didn’t want to see.
Through it all I hung in there determined to win,
Against outrageous misfortune, at least I am still breathing.

Invisibility of Power

Whilst drifting in an open boat across a mill pond lake
I think of the invisibility of power something not to forsake.

Imagine the power that is all around you
Remember your mind will know what to do.

Water is very powerful as well as being beautiful and mild
It has tremendous power to destroy, flood as the sea it kills
But it can trickle sparkle, be still, move harmlessly
It has power to heal, it can relax you spiritually
Water power has a Jekyll and Hyde personality
As rivers in torrents sweep all in its path
People respect its power, it’s anger and wrath
Foolish are those that ignore the power of the sea
Water’s duel role upon the Earth as creator of life
It is the bringer of death, awesome, creates strife
Better to be wary of it, better still keep to the streams.

Fire, the energy to destroy, causes harm, everything it blackens
Left in its uncontrolled and dangerous state it will flatten
Everything in its way – setting alight trees and plants
Melting people, houses, speeds the decay.
Though man has harnessed the power of fire
To torch him, his food, towns, cities is the real power
Of fire, that does nothing any good, its shower
Of ashes, piles of dust leaving traces for all to see.

The wind has power beyond wild imagining
For though we see the evidence of storms and gales
The wind be invisible in most of its disguises
Trees bend they whisper to each other, reeds will sing
Birds will glide, float endlessly upon the thing
But the breezes, although very much there
Are invisible not revealing to the studious stare
Fire and water are visible forms of power
Everyone recognises but wind is it really there?
For most of the time it is not visible even when near.

Gravity in all its majesty is the power that is present
At all times but remains cloaked in mystery
Keeping us all rooted to the Earth is it’s paramount element
But its visibility does not show as though to prevent
Too much investigation too much scientific probing
Though the scientist alchemist show the existence
Of its power by falling apples and parachutists
There is no other proof of its whereabouts
We believe there is such a thing because of experts sense
“There is gravity. Behold the wonder of science!”

Spirit like gravity is all around us if you could perceive
The existence of such not having scientific approval
Means that doubters outweigh the enlightened
But the enlightened are better for their understanding
Spirit is invisible like gravity and is an essential force
For it does make sense of when combined with love
The love that derives from the mighty Universe
It links our tiny minds to the stars in outer space
It gives purpose to the querying human race
Spirit is there as gravity is there as wind is there
To ignore the dimension we call spirit God Life energy
Is like ignoring the power of fire, wind water gravity.

In Every Cell and Molecule

The infinite which was hid’ … Detail of the frontispiece of William Blake’s Europe: A Prophecy, a book on display at Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. 
Poem Inspired by William Blake

I’ve been sleeping for two thousand years
Waiting for the moment to turn on the light.

I have slept in clouds in the storms of the night
Looking for a signal, wanting a switch.

I have journeyed inside a billion stars
Staying only a microsecond away from here.

I have splashed the colours of the universe
Throughout the invented histories of Earth.

I have travelled the miles in cases of thought
I was tortured by dogma and politics of a sort.

I have been aware of your instruments of death
You can sanctify your cross, do your worst.

I am pained for I am no longer free
The Earth need is drawing heavily on me.

I am expected but your doors to freedom are closed
Whilst the new gods are frantically worshipped.

I saw satanic mills flourish to yield gold
To the money moguls who despise me of old.

I am grieving for the Earth waiting for it to awaken
My sleeping for two thousand years is about to end.

I am crying for your clergy all have forsaken
Me and my heart and the hearts of all kinds.

I am stretching out my arms, no one notices
As I rise from this stone obscure tomb.

I am sure my next visit will be more worthy
Melting away I went not just saving the money.

I’ve been away for two thousand years
Listening for the sounds of love and peace.

I am watching a thousand guilty knives
Flying through the air towards me alive.

I am blamed for wars greed and indifference
Little chance have I to alter books to make a difference.

I am altered, fashioned into a nuclear missile
For me to bless and for you to release.

I’m given the guilt of countless thousand deaths
So that I may absorb the hatred and fear.


PART 2

No one shall sleep forever
For forever demands wakefulness
A gentle prodding towards awareness.

No one escapes the glare of the life force
Nor shall anyone ignore the courses
We tread, we dread the reality of passing over.

No one wants to see the skull and bone remains
Because we were routinely taught to fear
And we fear most that which doesn’t happen.

Like death as it is only an illusion
But we were warped, changed by religion

The comfort from the religious when we meet
teaches us of oblivion, from which we retreat
is like so many nails driven into hands and feet.

No one dies because we go on to other places
Therefore sleep be banished
For our friends haven’t vanished
They are close to our faces
They are with us forever in all places
All we need do is wish them to be near.

Sleep ye not, ye souls of ancient yore
For thou hast a path to walk yet and more
Thou walkest freely in the light of universal love
A power from within, without – streams from above
From below, from inside from outside, everywhere
Thou walkest the highest mountains here
When thou settles thy mind there.

Bring us the steepest mountains and hills
We’ll make the journey one of our skills
That were taught us two thousand years ago
Universal lessons we cover with our egos
But beware be not ever so blind
Ye cannot purge thine own mind
Of ancient and nameless wisdom
For it resides deep within
Every cell and molecule kingdom
Of you, of me of us of everyone.

Make ye not a tremendous fuss
Play the simple game of life for us
In the manner of truth and light
Make ye not false prayers
For they attract white hot holes
Into the spirit friends who become whole.

Lift thine eyes with gladdened hearts
To the voices of those who know all parts,
Mock ye not for what do we know?
Only what we see that is on show
What is this, some kind of Hell?
Where our senses are; what can I tell
Of our eyes, hands, nose and mouth –
A hell invented for convenience hatred and greed
An anvil for all souls to carry thinking they need
Willingly for they believe is real but taken in.

The tragedy of two thousand years without name
Greets my tired eyes like a bloodied torch of flame
Singeing everyone with a hopeless hapless blame

No one sleeps but most are hypnotised
By the goodies and rewards concocted
Fashioned by mindless animals called humans.

written by Pete Wakeham

Beggar

Dull day, watching as a newspaper sails away
Blending splendidly with McDonalds' cartons
Coca Cola metal edged and ugly -
Thought s of a new day
Very much the same as yesterday
Lying here next door to Primark
My caps water logged virtually penniless
Matching my pockets frugality
Searing the unfathomed reality
- Where thousands walk past.

What they see is a pile of rags and inertia
Some cursing “ we’re not in bloody Asia”
Soaked Big Issues don’t bring in the dosh
Not do prostrate grey heaps
Lining the Strand or Charing Cross.
Blue coated lighted the boys with batons
Use your legs for football practice
“move on you bastard, or you’ll get more”
“It’s the sailors life for me!”

The joke’s not lost like earrings in the hay
Nights are always worse than days
Junkies knifing your veins for pennies
Prostitutes complaining about trade failures
Blaming the begging not their aging layers
It’s not only the cold that claims
The street dwellers in this city
It’s the absence of guilt and pity
The liars of the Media affect your livelihood
As sure as someone mugging your food
The stories of violence leave out the frenzy
Of organised scapegoating
Blaming the poverty stricken
With anything from litter to the Footsie collapsing.

Well meaning professional cannibals
Hand you their insincerities
And wait for you to smile your promises
So they can keep the score’s accurate
Then report you to the police
Telling of drunkenness because you are a vagrant
Wandering half the night for a vacant
Doorway facing away from the wind
Piles of grey rags and snoring.

Known as the “beggars welcome”
Staggering into Mothercare’s entrance?
Smiling at the irony, with a wince
That triggers the aching gut rush
Empty organs are painful most of the time
Cups of tea sandwiches crusts or bones
Forever missing off my menu.

Duller day, much the same as yesterday
Only it appears to be longer
It is much redder than before
Due to crack heads wielding blades
I’m becoming slimmer by the minute
By the time an ambulance is alerted
I will have become significant at last
Statistically speaking anyway.

written by The Hard Bard