A Working Man’s Legacy

I remember sixteen as if it were yesterday 

five different jobs not a single day away

wanting success, keen to be blessed

yet secretly, deep down, wanting caress

working in a greyhound stadium with my dad

on the tote, a brass museum piece clad

painting, selling, Amway was bad

so many jobs, not a university grad

years have gone, still without a song

never to join a rich man’s throng

not up for the challenge, can’t be bothered 

work, wore my life thin, then I felt smothered

Just like John Lennon, a working class hero

who created nothing then went to zero

intelligently stupid, a rich man’s tool

living a life, yet feeling the fool

When I die, it will not be long

To  join Jesus or Elvis to sing my own song

then he’ll say to me ‘come along’

There is a staircase for painting and it’s very long

Soul in a hole

I am fragile, I love life, I love people, I love all 

being kind and caring is why I feel tall 

why then does my reason for living get tested ?  

turning thy tentative nature of I am, in to small

Satan is not part of my soul yet evil invades

it enters every orifice through any hole

destroying my inner peace, is its devilish goal

I feel that death is the answer to overthrow 

Why can’t I be happy being me, living life happily

it sycophantically destroys the person I wish to be

a loving person surrounded by fragility 

emptiness is is denying my virtuality 

To feel love and to give love is everything

to believe within love we can win

ignorance is my only bliss, in thought

everything can be cured with a hug and a kiss

Quaintly Forgotten

The land darkens as cold air draws close

shadows! the only friend that is near

a cold island island the man I be, sublimely 

quoting with confidence, the sight of wonder

yet speaking alone, I sit and wonder

if I died would I have not been known

to disappear in the mist forever err, alone