Sunday, August 24, 2014

Pit-sawn and Dynamite.

Well, I'm wearing no shoes, and a knotted red bandanna
my Levi's cut-off, bleached, and frayed at the knees.
This patience rewarded: my frustrations sublimated
for tomorrow we'll aweigh with the morning's silver breeze.

The Elephant Man's our captain and we know it'll be all right
when we raise our rusty anchor and set sail with the dawn.
We'll seek Portuguese mansions and old slave traders' forts
that still echo desperate cries of the stolen forlorn.

Our old dhow is defiant and ploughs a southern bearing
the sails they are patched and well-worn at the seams.
Its planking pit-sawn from an old tree we borrowed
and it's caulked with the remnants of old sailors' dreams.

We're not looking for medals of great honour
don't want deliverance to God's heavenly gates.
All we want is the whale song around us
and to carry their message before it's too late.

There are no expectations in this battered old suitcase
that has carried my weapons of struggle to the frays.
And we're sailing wild waters on ancient mariners' bearings
where sharks are our companions and fear is no disgrace.

There's a blonde Amazon goddess who leads me on with kindness
our companions are dolphins swimming Eden's coral reef.
But the concussions are deafening, and there's blood in the water
and they carve up our companions as we drown in our grief.

We're not looking for medals of great honour
don't want deliverance to God's heavenly gates
All we want is to stand in defiance
and expose the destruction before it's too late.

And this message we carry is now in life's little bottles
that we cast upon the internet to float through time and space.
And all friends and true believers 'like' and 'share' each posted message
and our songs bring us together to watch over this watery place.

We're not looking for medals of great honour
don't want deliverance to God's heavenly gates.
All we want is the whale song around us
and to carry their message before it's too late.

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Saturday, April 26, 2014

A Summer Rose.

A Summer Rose. Jim McIntosh.


In the blackest vale of sadness
I saw a faded Summer Rose
How it came to be so lonely
no one ever truly knows.

On the darkest pool of water
its reflection lost its glow
Our hands reached out to comfort
while our tears began to flow.

How can a flower become so faded?
Could we ever know
how lost a Summer Rose was feeling
that this Rose decided to go?

While our Summer Rose was fading
our teardrops fell upon the Rose
But whilst they fell like streams of water
our tears could not revive our Rose.

There is a garden up in Heaven
at the end of life's pathway
where Angels gather all the lonely roses
and place them in a grand bouquet.

Rest in peace, Summer Rose.




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Friday, April 18, 2014

A Spray of Roses.

Every woman loves to hold a spray of roses
every woman wants to receive them from a man
but there's just a single rose posted on my Facebook wall
and I know there's someone there who understands

You may have wondered why I post this single rose
you may think it looks so lonely pictured there
but every single rose needs to be enclosed
within a spray of friends who really care.

Sometimes a man needs to write some poetry
sometimes he needs to get things off his chest
but most of all he needs someone to give him back a rose
to know they understand is what he loves best.

I think I'll go and plant a rose in our front garden
and every time I see it blooming there
I'll be reminded of the single rose I posted on my Facebook wall
to remember a lost child no longer here.


Rest in that peaceful world, Summer Rose.
11/1/1997 - 15/4/2014


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Monday, April 14, 2014

Spanish Dancing.





































Spanish dancing
Captivating dark brown eyes
flirt with me, tempting me
Each step in time, each move with mine
Spanish dancing
Spanish dancing
Gonna dance together
All our lives.

Lipizzaner horses, greys and whites
Intricate prancing wove a magic night
Vienna waltzing, dresses swirled
Lovers gracefully carouselled
We should have been dancing
We should have been dancing.

We danced on Ronda's old castellated wall
hand in hand we walked her canyon tall
Now Andalusia's old bandoleros
forever play flamenco music for us.
Spanish dancing.
Spanish dancing.
Gonna dance together
your eyes to mine.
Hips are moving, baby, light my fire
pump that emotion crazy, lost to desire
Take me up gently, lay me down light
Am I responsible for what happened that night?
Spanish dancing
Spanish dancing
We'll dance together
all of our life.

Your heels are stamping out that sexy tattoo
Flaunt your dress, baby, I'm staring at you
Life is the dance, baby - love's pas de deux
I'll die of a broken heart, baby, when you dance on through.
Spanish dancing
Spanish dancing
Life is the dance, baby - love's pas de deux
I'll die of a broken heart, baby, when you dance on through.
Spanish dancing
Spanish dancing
Gonna dance together
into our twilight.












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Monday, September 2, 2013

Uselessness of Honesty...and razor-wire.



There's a border so near yet so far.
In helmets and vests of Kevlar
we'll chance the sniper fire
that ranges along the border.
Convoyed through the razor-wire
to record this greatest of tragedies
human pain and injuries
silent chemicals beyond the border.

And knowing the deepest truth,
no matter whatever we say
conflict slashes and cuts both ways
just like razor-wire on the border.
Where the uselessness of honesty
carries decisions that burn both ways
to justify the missile fire
from far beyond the border.

No matter what we write,
truth will be twisted by the lies
to coil like the razor-wire
serpents that guard the border.
To the East the carnival burns
like gasoline in flame and fire
while the West reacts in ire
and remains beyond the borders.

Now we stand as witnesses
and weep as the missiles fire
sharing in the travesty
erupting across the border.
Knowing the uselessness of honesty
should we have told some lies?
Should we have let truth die
on the razor-wire of the borders?




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Thursday, August 8, 2013

There Are Empty Plates...: Biofuel destruction.

There's a hungry lost child
walks a busy Delhi street
family can't afford
another mouth to feed
There's a wrinkled farmer struggling
as he's growing old
can't plough his field
his last donkey's just been sold.

There's empty plates in the state of Rajasthan today
rice is nice but it's twice the price it was yesterday.

There's a farmer in a rich place
maize growing tall
gets a call from Obama-
"Need your crop for ethanol."
he can't believe his luck
more green dollar bills
while a family in Rajasthan
they won't eat all.

There are empty plates in the state of Rajasthan today.
rice was nice but it's twice the price it was yesterday.

There's a Greenie sitting in his car
running on biofuel
believes he's doing all he can
to help save this world
but he's burning elephants
orangutan and all
as forests disappear
in the race for biofuel

There's empty plates....



Read here please-
Biofuel use contributing to world hunger report.
Brazil violence and-forced eviction for biofuel
Amazon rainforest destroyed by biofuels







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