Photo Credit : Christopher Windus on Unsplash

Are you trapped, imprisoned, and cannot get free
Do you feel like you need more room, so that you can breathe
Is this relationship, not at all what it seems
Do you yearn, do you burn, to break all ties, and jump free
Do you want to break through these invisible prison bars
Are you afraid to do so, in case it leaves scars

Are you being blackmailed, manipulated from moving away
Are you gonna waste your time here, day after day
‘ I love you, I want you, I need you, please don’t go ‘
Any of this sound familiar
‘ I’m leaving, I’m going, please say it aint so ‘
Does the pleading turn to anger
A rage, a torrent of abuse, as they vent
Now they don’t seem so much like that angle, heaven sent

Is it love, loneliness, or entrapment to capture your soul
If they can’t have you in the way they desire
Maybe they will aspire to stop you from the contentment and true happiness you seek
Keep you tied to a loveless relationship, and meek
Surely to God, one deserves better than this
Are you too kind and pleasant, cruelty not to your taste
Is it lack of wealth and finances, keeping you in this place
Are you stuck, trapped, and it seems like there’s nothing you can do

Do you strive to tread lightly through this world, and treat others right
Be all gentle and soft, not harm a soul
Are you going to sacrifice your health, and maybe your head
To be their spiritual blanket, and emotional comforter too
What about some real heartbreaking, ass kicking , love making
Or maybe you will forego that too
All in the name of be seen to do what’s right
To be seen as that fine, solid, loyal understanding human, of quiet delight

If they are just a friend, they are not your job to mend
Nor be there surrogate lover too
Are you afraid of losing a long term friend
Will they be lonely, hurt and offended if you find someone new
Is it that perceived guilt that’s holding you back
Come on  now, answer true
Are you gentle, kind with no mind to be cruel
Well then my friend, you can set yourself free
Does it seem like the perfect set up, honesty, generosity
Peace and tranquility, good home cooking too

But there’s no love making, dude
Are they just using you, for their own inner reasons
Wheather it be loneliness, companionship
Or other reasons, too brutal to be true
There is no passionate sex, there is no love
Warmth, friendship, companionship, yes
But surly that won’t do
Passionate love, sizzling sex, I wish to say hello to you
Along with warmth, friendship, laughter, and companionship too
Do you want to look back on your life, when you are dead
Say I lived my life for another, how utterly frustrated, disappointed and angry are you

Is this loyalty gone too far, kindness gone amiss
It’s being such a long time, since you even had a kiss
Sexuality, lovemaking, call it what you will, it’s all part of the human condition
If your missing out on this, you aint really living
If they want more, you know the score
If that’s what they ache for, but you aint opening that door
They just don’t touch you in that way, be clear and definite on that

No moaning, no whingeing, or saying you should do
It seems so ideal, can it be real
But I just aint into you, like that
That bit of madness I’ve seen at first hand
That anger, that temper, and inability to cope
It’s slipped more than once, from underneath your cloak
It’s for reasons like that, I’d rather tip my hat, than get deeply involved
And carry on up that path
Do you want to escape, do you want to break free
Do you want to break through these invisible walls
Stay or escape, what will it be.




Photo Credit : Khachik Simonian on Unsplash

Here I am a prostitute, what is it I must endure
I am that scarlet women, I am that filthy whore
Men who don’t care, middle class women who stare
Who worry and guess maybe its there husband whose taking off his vest
As he gropes and envelopes my breasts, as we lay together in the back of his filthy car
Where is my life going, is it going anywhere
Do you know what mate, I don’t even care
Another man, another woman, its all the same to me
I get paid, so they can do what they want to
Rape and plunder my soul, so what
Is this my life forever more, will it get better, ever
I’m dead inside, there ain’t nothing there
Happiness, grief, anger, my soul is empty chasm
Cant you see, but nobody cares
I am that scarlet woman, I am that filthy whore
My spirit a deep black hole.





A Star.



Photo Credit : Diego Jimenez on Unsplash

That’s what he was, for sure. At least in his own mind. But was it really true. Did his school mates, like him, or fear him. He had the physical capability to deal with anyone, as he was one of the, lucky ones, to have grown tall and broad. He had those lucky genes.
He was not by any stretch of the imagination, a woman magnet. But he attracted enough girls to keep him busy, and the envy of some of the less successful boys in his year. His position as the captain of the high school football team, only enhanced his self esteem, and his popularity among most of his class mates. His keen mind and bestowed intelligence allowing an easy passage through school . The same lessons, that had many of the less intellectually gifted, struggling, frustrated and depressed. Imagining future lives of minimum wage employment, or no employment. Perhaps a life of crime. Who knows.

Beneath the square jaw, the broad shoulders, easy smile and the piercing grey eyes, was a fearful human. He had not shared with another soul, that he was afraid of leaving high school, and going to university. Afraid to leave the small town, he had come to love. Where he knew so many others, and they knew him. Could he cope with a new city, a competitive university. Boy’s, bigger than him. Stronger than him. Better looking than he was. Perhaps more intelligent than he ever would be. He knew his parents had plans for his future. To follow in his Fathers footsteps. Work his way through medical school, travel and build up extensive medical experience and after a time, return to the small town, and become the local Doctor. As his Father before him had been.
That is what his parents wanted for him. But was that really what he wanted for himself. How could he tell them, especially his Father, to whom appearances and to be seen to be successful were of the utmost importance. How could he turn round and tell them, that he did not want to be a Doctor, nor attend university, not now, nor anytime in the future.

‘ What I want is important, not what you want. It’s my needs and my desires for once. Stop living your lives through me. I don’t want to be a Doctor, and anything like that, I want to write, to draw and paint, to be artistic and creative. That is where my passion lies. That is what I want to do. I want to design. I want to play and compose music. I don’t give a damn if their’s no money in it. Or if I’m no good at it. I just don’t care. I just want to be happy’. That’s what he wanted to say. He really did.

Of course he never said it. After he excelled at his final exams, as expected. With great unhappiness, on that final day, he packed his bags, slowly and morosely. He tried to tell his parents, he really did. He uttered a few words of doubt, and fear. But they cut him short, and assured him, it was to be expected, and would soon pass. Stepping out from his comfort zone. That is what he was doing, they explained to him. They would hear none of his further objections and small protests. He did not say much else. As they were his parents, and had by and large being good to him, and expected the best from him, and he did not want to disappoint. They waved him farewell from the front porch. With his head held low, his body language no longer that of the popular high school, football team captain. More that of a sad, disappointed child, fulling the wishes of others, not his own. Under silent protest, he trundled towards the empty highway pickup point for the city bus.
In the warm sunshine a few of the boys from the football team, meet and accompanied him of his trek towards the bus pick up point.

‘ You know, I never really wanted to leave this town, this place, and you guys. ‘

Would any of them understand. Could anybody ever understand, and give him a way out. They too assured him, it would be a good move. For his carer, financially, for his family. The small group waited by the highway, for the bus. He bid them farewell, and as he sat alone on the bus, surrounded by strangers. The bus traveled into the setting sun, it seemed like nobody would ever understand.

Still Getting Old.

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

Are you mad with rage, as you look at your age
How come life didn’t turn out the way it was ment to be
Do you want to seek revenge, get someone to make amends
For the life your lumbered with
It’s not how you determined it should be

Does it make you sick that your bones crack and creek
Even when you just eat, and move
That the toilet is now your new found best friend
The very idea of sex, gives you a right pain in the head
You’d so much rather have a nice cup of tea

Are you now so bored, you want to fall on your sword
So you can escape all this misery
Who can you hate. Whose head can you place on the chopping plate
Someone’s to blame. That’s all I’m saying
Before I go insane

Is it God, is it Buddha, Shiva or some other
It’s just gotta get better, before you get dead
Do people offer you their seat, as you shuffle your feet
Reaching your top speed, of ‘Dead Slow’
Are you lucky to have your health, or perhaps your confined to bed
Are you now so ancient, your teeth and hair, have gone amiss

Is your skin fraggled and wrinkled, it’s all just so unfair
With the slightest touch, it just might tear
Have you graduated to padded, plastic underwear
To enchance your personel care. Whoever thought it would come to this
But don’t nobody dare say you look like an old dried out prune
Are you bitter and resentful, and full of angry moods
That you can no longer be one of the young dudes

Is your life just one long empty journey, same old, same old, day after day
Do you sit wishing so much, it would just all go away
Are you scared of dying, of that journey ahead
That trip that happens to us all, when we are dead
These may be the thoughts that you contemplate
As you lay in your bed, awaiting your fate

Old age, getting on, coming to the end
Is there really much to recommend……living
I believe there is. So I’m holding on for as long as I can
Trying to be a happy man
Searching for a life full of laughfter and joy
Looking to forgive and forget about settleing old scores
Trying to live the happy life, look around at others
Many have a great deal of strife to deal with day after day
I reckon I’m a lot luckier than some, that’s all I’m sayin.




Photo Credit :

Does success elude you, and you don’t know what to do
Is life making it seem like you just don’t have a clue
Where’s all that wealth, career success and love too
Have you tried and failed, are you just chasing your tail

Do you want to give up, give in, and go home
Is life just against you, is that how it seems
Do you ask, what’s the damn point of carrying on
When nothing your trying is working, It’s just all going wrong

What is the answer, what can you do
I don’t know either, I aint got a clue
If I had the damn answer
Dont you think I’d tell you

What you gonna do
Give up on life, cant take no more of this strife
Failure, stuck in a rut
Dead ends, and blockages, at every turn
Spinning your wheels, but getting no where

Are you tired of living, are you tired of life
When you look around, do others seem to have it so much easier, right
Who knows, maybe many go through these periods of being lost and amiss
Maybe it will get a lot better, then you will have to hold on real tight
Just here, wishing and hoping, it’ll hurry up and come right.

Moralistic Man.

They with no morals, who ain’t too found of a quarrel
Scruples ? What are they
But they will still steal, they will plead, they will deceive
They will promise so much, but when it comes to crunch
They are nowhere to be seen

They are charismatic, never sadistic or brutal
But will self indulge to excess
Just cause they can, that’s the type I am, they profess
They are good fun to be around

When it come’s to doing what’s right
Well they are out of sight
What about those all promises you made
Composed of clay

Where are you now, we need you now
To do what you said you were going to do
Stop hiding, stop running away
Come back here, we need your say

More than that, we need you to keep your word
Don’t be that fleeing bird
Stand your ground, dig deep, we know you can
Don’t be hedonistic, instead
Be moralistic, honest and true, that’s what we need you to do
Don’t be the one to ask, morals, scruples, who are you.

Too Much.


Photo Credit : Jim DiGritz on Unsplash


That’s all he ever did ,ever. Just like the large greedy pig, that others had come to describe him as. Selfish, greedy, self obsessed, could one even say narcissistic, perhaps. As long as his needs, which of course were many, and so very important were fulfilled, then everything was alright, at least for now.
He sat at that kitchen table, three times every day, like a larger and more grotesque version of King Henry V111 when he was at his worst. The speed at which he gobbled everything in sight. The grasping hands, so quick and agile for such a large man. His slobbering eating habits, like some mad rabid, demented dog, left those that witnessed them shocked and sickened. He even sat at the head of that table, like the Royal King. Well he did after all pay for it, as he was fond of reminding the family seated round the table. He liked to remind them at the top of his voice, and at times pounding the dark oak table. How he had paid for the food, the table he ate it off, the house they were sitting in. Everything in fact. They knew the drill by now. Only, when he had the choice of the best of the food layed out on the table, and had done with it. Only then were they allowed to take what ever was left over. Not that their was ever much. They sat quietly watching and listening to him eat, a unpleasant experience. The knifes and forks, patiently waiting beside their clean empty white plates. The only sounds, the cackling of the wood burning int he open fire, and his loud incessant chewing, and gulping down of the finest of wine, he indulged himself in.
She slaved away, cooking what he demanded, and it better be right, she knew that by now. She had the body language of a hounded, and harangued woman, who toiled to keep some semblance of peace and tranquility in the house. If that were even possible. In the darkened room, lit by the fire, and the few large candles, he continued about his daily ritual, as the family did.
Tonight it was the same, he eating quickly, noisily and grabbing everything in sight. They sat round the table, watching and listening. He coughed, they eyed the mountains of juicy succulent mixture of food layed upon the table. The scent, and imagined taste of it so real, the texture most be so soft, and mouth-watering tasty, they too began to salivate at the very thought of tasting it. Were that to be allowed.

It was agony, pure and simple. To watch, to be so near, to hear, to breathe in the luscious aroma of what lay near to them. He must surely have been aware of what it was like for them, to sit, watch and wait. Or perhaps not. Maybe he was so wrapped up in himself, it never crossed his mind.
He coughed again, a bit more loudly, and cleared his throat. Continued to eat, and had some more of the red wine, poured from the expensive decanter, in to the rather finely decorated glass he used. The cackling of the fire, the delightful red hue it produced, the warmth it afforded the darkened dining area. It could have easily been mistaken for an intimate, welcoming setting. He coughed again, more forcefully this time, and slowly lowered his knife and fork. He began to perspire more than normally. His forehead becoming damp, his face flushed red, his large protruding lips, taking on a slight bluish tinge. He stood up rapidly and kicked the chair hard behind him. Put both his hands on either side of his large jowls, and staggered forward. They watched from around the table, as he tried to breath, but there was nothing but quietness, aside from the cackling of the wood burning in the large open fireplace.
His frame fell heavily on top of the open fire, smothering it. The arid smoke filled the darkened, candlelit kitchen. She watched transfixed, from the stove. They watched silently from where they were seated round the large oak table. His overly large unattractive body, didn’t move. No sound, nor movement from it.
Gingerly and tentatively she approached the table, and viewed the mountains of succulent food on it. Picked up an empty plate, and put a few tasty looking morsels on the plate. She placed a few into her mouth. She had always suspected they would taste as good as they looked, and she was right. Her wide smile, and a satisfying ‘aah’ signified that. She had another mouthful, and then another. Her smile growing larger. Her eyes  looming wide with delight. She threw a cursory glance towards the fire place, and his unmoving figure, as they did.
They watched. She smiled, and nodded. One by one they lifted up their empty plates and began to fill them with the luscious, succulent food that lay before them. In the darkened room, they began to feast.