Poem pics

OK, these are not proper poems, more like idle ramblings typed up onto a picture. A picture (two) that I wanted to use up in some way. All quite spontaneous though and in their own way well intentioned. As if any of that matters.

Wormwood

To my fellow conspirators there's not much to see here

I initiated my device when I thought the coast was in the clear

There's nothing much of anything that they can pin on me

Except my strange compulsion to live in a world that's free

They devil woke me through the night and on my body stood

He squeezed out apple juice and beetroot, Brew Dog and Wormwood

It was my sweet hallucination telling me you're going wrong

So I put the pin back in the grenade and turned it to a song

Now Trump and Farage hang from lampposts in a drunken sailor's dream

The Daily Mail bought up the images and made a fortune on the stream

The people said “We'd already guessed that things were going wrong”

“We only did it anyway just to push this movement on”

Now things have settled down again since we gave up on human rights

We surrendered all our fortitude for some psychedelic lights

They said “you've won the day” but it still was pretty clear

Friendships make you comfortable but they're dangerous round here.

The hills are alive

By the time I'd reached the safety of the road I was in pieces. Soaked with sweat, limbs turning to jelly, my mind racing, thoughts flashing here and everywhere, pulse racing and I was (possibly but I'm not sure) jabbering. There was so much going on inside my head that I was unsure as to what was inside or outside. I threw myself down onto the grass verge, exhausted and buried my head into the cool, wet green as if it was some sweet anaesthetic. Something to douse the fear and the slowly growing pain that was building following my encounter. "Don't you be going up there alone", that was the warning from Bob the old shepherd last night in the pub. Now his words were ringing in my ears. How had he known? What had he seen? How many others? Of course I'd laughed, full of Dutch courage and scepticism and not really caring. At that certain age when you feel invincible and eternal, strong and rational enough to deal with whatever comes your way. Well that was last night, last life even. The watershed had been arrived at. I wasn't laughing now.

I seemed to sleep or drown or fall for the longest time, no sense of day or night, just hugging the ground, curled up in some foetal recovery position, still and silent. Rain was falling, steadily damp, soaking me with an electric warmth and a cloak of sterility. Forcing me to wake and face the truth of my situation. It was then, groggy and still in some pain that I heard the voice...

I looked up, a child stood before me. Looked like a boy of about seven I think, it was hard to tell. The first thing I noticed were the shoes, girls' Mary Jane shoes, one brown, one black and on the wrong feet. The child looked down on me as I struggled to move and to get up onto my knees. Daylight was breaking and the mist was sheathing all around. There was just me and this strange figure in a ghostly wilderness. Neither of is spoke we just stared at one another. I thought I must be in shock and that this was another hallucination, another mask, some kind of trick of the mind. This whole experience was unreal and things had stopped making sense. The child spoke again.

"You look lost...I know how that feels, I think that I may be lost."

Space

Space: Well it is kind of bottomless and may appear empty but frankly I think you'll find that there is quite a lot going on. I do however say that from a rather earth bound perspective but there's a lot of scientific fact and even more speculation you could pick up from we humans. Why there are books, films and fantasies and all sorts of theories. They kind of crash into one another all the time, you may pick sense the jumbled signals. We've only been so far physically, we create space junk in our own back yard easily but we can see and hear beyond the immediate area ... Anyway hope your OK and lookout for that star at the bottom right. That's the one from the Old Grey Whistle Test.