Though the Winners Try to Fix Me -

Though the winners try to fix me
and the losers buy to beat me,
Only I accept me..
So the winners will to name me
While the losers still to blame me
But only I can change me.
To try to judge the state of me,
is reconciliatory
to the very bait of me..
Becoming a trajectory
of life portrayed as fate to me,
to see what I can make of me
is my responsibility.

look through the window
Bring on the clowns
remind me how it used to be
and when the train pulls in
let me see
the face of clowns un-made
standing barefoot, smiling still
arms outstretched to greet me

Tree against chimney
pylon stands on planted field
If nature accepts man as naturallly as itself
does man accept self as natures yield?

smoke billowing in the distance
chicken house stands empty
straight lined drainage ditches
mirroring my journey
of distanced perspective
of rooks gathered
to feast the seeded field

Pale winter sun, latening afternoon
electric glow already alights a distant street
before the birds begin their song,
the night to greet
so afraid of the dark have we become?
would we still fear the night
if man and darkness lived as one?

Vast plumes of smoke, becoming clearer now
The power plant, playing its part
yet still one cant help but marvel
at those brick stacked giants of industral art
growing up from the fields below
from tiny ideas mighty oaks do grow

scarecrow in high viz dress
coppice stands to mark the way
starlings gather .. communication lines
river breaching man made sides

tower standing derelict
sodden hay stacked head to head
is this how god will celebrate
when we are dead?

allotments stand like crazy paving
pig sty sports graffitti art
geese begin the longest journey
over tesco's car park

lights shine upon empty platforms
a character walks from another time
but onward still the train rumbles
we are still alive, I think, this time.

Winter white
A subtle shade just off truth
Dappled light beneath the wooded canopy
Birdsong drifting, singer unseen
A hillside moment
A drifting thought
The imperceptable smile
Private giggle
Carried skywards with the wind
To me, thats what happiness is.
Yet I hear it screamed loud and brash
Look at me...HAPPY...
A trophy of nouveau riche,
Symbol of status
Locked away
Never to be touched
For fear it may be stolen
From a reality that never was.