Ode To Alison

A ray of  sunshine
On the darkest of days
A beacon of light
With her unique ways

A silver tongue
With a heart of gold
A love of David Silva
If truth be told

A practical joke
Never far away
The first of April
Her busiest day

The sweetest of hearts
Reassuring and perceptive
Pouring warmth from every pore
A listener and receptive

“Don’t worry so much”
“You’ll be okay”
 Her calm and comforting words
 To see you through the day

She brought joy to so many
Of this there is no doubt
Her memory is a light
That will never go out

                                              


                                       

Poor Odds For Poor Sods

When life is tough
A scratchcard is a straw
To clutch for much hope
Less a means for charity
A percentage of proceeds
To buy shares in the afterlife
Jesus would have approved
Of this selfless giving
With no receipt
A 1 in 4 chance of breaking even
Poor odds for poor sods though

Life's Sweet Kiss

Blackberries and conkers
Make me go bonkers

With nostalgia and yearning
To stop the world turning

From the old to the new
There's nothing you can do

With time marching on
Too much of the year gone

To waste on doing stuff
That's boring, not off the cuff

Like seizing the day
Like making hay

Despite the April sleet
Where snow and rain meet

Swallowed by chilly air
Trying not to care

While viewing the sky
And realising why

There can be bliss
With life's sweet kiss

Sadness In Your Eyes

The sadness in your eyes
Belies your compulsive smile
Telling white lies to hide
Your black inner thoughts
A lifetime of comic timing
Blunted by age and time
Afflicted by a lack of alacrity
A victim of unimaginable cruelty
Tearing and clawing
At all you hold dear
Gripped by confusion and fear
Some broken hearts may never mend
But you'll be loved and supported
To the very end

If I Was A Celebrity

If I was a celebrity I'd be rubbish
I'd never appear on game shows
My reality would be all my own
I'd even wear all my own clothes

If I was a celebrity I'd be anonymous
Tweeting would be left for birds
My face would have no book
I'd forget all my written words

If I was a celebrity I'd be morose
I'd weep everyday and just want my Mum
My arse wouldn't know my elbow
I'd send telegrams to Instagram

If I was a celebrity I'd be sullen
I'd throw parties where nobody came
Wikipedia would describe me as reclusive
My fame would be so lame

Shapes

I circle town squares
While trying angles
And hobble long hours
To drink Ovaltine

Never Underestimate

You can accuse an oak tree of being wooden
But when it's foliage catches the breeze
Never underestimate it's attraction

Sun Kissed Face

Sun kissed summer days 
can remind us of a time that felt real
senses heightened to absorb
every new different experience
when your world is your playground
life tasting sweeter than a fruit salad chew
childhood, when all is fresh and new
when adults are strange beings

As adults life can feel surreal
especially on Northern Rail's track
with fuckery around every corner
of streets paved with the homeless
someone's always worse off than you though
a consolation prize in the race to the bottom
but each new day is a blessing
when the sun still kisses the face

Circus of the Death Wish Dickhead

Roll up, roll up for the worst show in town
The circus of the death wish dickhead
See him cycle with one hand on his groin
The other with a phone to his head

See him drive the stolen car
With his seat at 120 degrees
120 mph on an unlit motorway
Thinking he's the bees knees

A selfish, moronic, society draining lout
The law means nothing to him
Beyond rehabilitation or redemption
Uneducated, uncouth, unhinged and dim

Give the death wish dickhead a wide berth
He values neither your life nor his own
He's sure to disappear up his own arse
Still clutching his iPhone

A Prestwich Walk

Horse-shaped figurines amid swathes of green
A view of the field where I've just been
My stuttering gait to reach the gate
Of the clough and it's delights
Descending to a blue bridge
Beneath the azure sky
Over the rocky stream
Riveted by a rivulet struggling over stone
then ascent to a church
With the promise of heaven for the faithful
I sit on the fence
Moving on to the village
A takeaway reads "Ho Fat"
Unsure about the menu


Onto the Metro
A link in a chain of pain
Making a stand by refusing to sit
It smells a bit
Of fare dodgers
Reaching my destination
Reaching my destiny
Reaching the parts tutors don't teach
Reaching the parts others don't reach