Nothing but dirt
Nothing but dirt

Everywhere the darkened grey
Amidst the burning fire
As everything they ever knew
Now fuels the dreadful pyre
Because when hell comes from the deep
With noise that knows no shame
The dreadful days last evermore
Amidst the snipers aim
As fuel and food have long since gone
Where basements lack in air
The misery of wanting God
To end this deep despair
Because they wait amongst their friends
All frightened of the red
As letters, banners, flags and more
Turn lifelong into dead
As smoking mist now creeps along
It’s journey on the breeze
Behind it brings another fear
The fear of wars disease
Along with noise of metal tracks
Beside the engines roar
The soldier’s footsteps everywhere
That mark this dreadful war
It’s solitude that breaks the heart
The emptiness of love
As hell itself is whirling round
Upon the ground above
Whilst nothing seems to stem the tide
It’s difficult to cope
Because the demon dogs of war
Extinguish thoughts of hope



Once again where East meets West
Metallic clouds descend
Where power is the driving force
Where will the despot end
As metal shards tear into flesh
The mass of endings cruel
As time and time and time again
One man lays claim to rule
But in the west we hold the blame
Our liberal doors ajar
Because the twitching eyes look on
They’ve watched us from afar
So sit at home with your pronouns
Then talk of dreadful fear
As what we are is what’s at fault
The jealous man’s austere



I’m focussed on the positives
Whilst all they see are negatives
Despite the lack of positives
Their positives are negatives



Inside my heart a thousand stars float gently in the breeze
The scent of love, though very feint, grows blossom on the trees
My sun and moon have intertwined and mirror what they see
As life inside this little place, it still inspires me


The Plinth
The Plinth

Let’s all chastise their fortune
We have to mock our fame
Then pour our hate on forefathers
Obsess with throwing blame

Inside my mind the statues fall
They smash onto the floor
Just longer lines of empty plinths
I’m not sure what they’re for
As talk of pride has long since gone
We are the self tamed shrew
Who this is for I’m just not sure?
I don’t think they’ve a clue
When all we had has disappeared
Where do my old thoughts go?
Replaced by spiteful reverie
With words that I don’t know

When all the things we ever did
Still blame the things we do
The empty plinths of mockery
They still won’t flatter you


Bean Hill Road
Bean Hill Road

The lightest dusting flakes of snow
Lay on the green grass floor
The evergreens are standing proud
As the hill hides many more
Two valleys I see to the north
The sky a powder blue
No clouds to float by lazily
A deer comes into view

It wanders round in front of me
Then chews the near ice grass
There is no sound, nothing to hear
Not even from the pass
Then nightfall brings so many stars
Coyotes howl nearby
Amidst the coldest cold of winds
Where nature seems not shy

This sanctuary for loving life
With outstretched arms of peace
My days on here are getting short
I wish they’d never cease
Goodbye Bean Hill my dear old friend
Again, you’ve filled my heart
With happiness and wonderment
Your natures work of art


Faraway Christmas
Faraway Christmas

I sat there beneath the winter sun
The cold wind blowing through my bones
My view blocked by military buildings
It was still very early that day
The camp was oddly quiet
Christmas Day had started far too sedately for me
I’d become used to the maddening excitement
Children being awash with joy
Stockings now just debris in a sea of fun
Carols playing
My family, our family, your family
All of you holding, hugging and thanking one another
Opening presents and adoring your favourite one
The wonderful aroma of cinnamon
Those very brief interludes of silence
Thinking about Mary and Joseph
Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh
The birth of Jesus
Beginning to panic about the dinner
Opening the wine, port, or brandy
Smiles, giggles, and laughter
I pause for a moment
Love, kindness, and caring
I pause once more
Then I wish upon wish that I could be there
Oh, how I miss you all
Oh, how much I want to celebrate
Oh, I hope next Christmas I may be home
But, alas, once again this year we are lands away
Separated by the vastness of time
Where a mile is a galaxy away
Yet we are linked by our spiritual connection
I reach out to touch you
To feel each of you
Then I smile
Before whispering in each ear
Happy Christmas


Winds of our time
Winds of our time

The autumn winds blow past the trees
Gathering pace through greenest fields
Crossing river, canal, and busy roads
Past all the buildings in the town
Before striking the inscribed wall
Touching each, and every name
Those names carefully placed in order
Each one a record of a life
A life long since gone
That ended in brutality
That ended in war

Each soul had carried away on the breeze
Each breeze then grew and grew
So that each year the memories of those days
Can touch us all, reminding us
Of how the most precious thing can be lost
Of why we all of us deserve freedom
That we must hold on to ourselves
Walk those paths in the woods
Climb over greenest hills
Meander down coastal lanes
Wonder at the clear blue sky
As that autumn wind touches our skin