Ode To Death


Books in a case

All a-jumble

Papers and documents

Ready to crumble

None from this year

None perennial

Except perhaps the Bible

(Or should I say Bibles?)

And books on religious teachings

And religion

Even Demons and Devils.

Films, CDs, DVDs

All from a time past

A world forgotten

But still remembered Classics.

Leaves fallen, pages missing, backs torn and broken


Absent Jackets

And Covers

No longer cared for

Cassettes and tapes.

Used, used-up

No longer meaningful

Occupying a space, a case

Whose value is in question

While housing irrelevant






Like a Carcass

Not quite an Artifact

A Relic.

Not even a Reminder

For no-one knows what’s there.

Would have to check

And try to recall the why and “what’s-it”.

Were they ever read?  Listened to?

The magazines?  Videos?  Films viewed?

To what end, for what purpose?

Just for something to do

And collect.

To seem intelligent

To appear knowledgeable

Then cast away

Shoved away


To someplace

Out of sight of daily living

Hidden from view

Of all, bar the occasional Guest

Who welcomes Death

Seeing it in truth

Not a ruse

A ploy to deceive

But in all they eat and drink and breathe

Of the Past

Lingering Languishing

In a Case.

A Case of Death –

Of Life




Not recovered, Unrecoverable….hope.

No point pretending

As even with new binding

Staples or Glue

They have been discarded



In their past ‘existence’


Not fit for requirements

Merely serving a purpose

To those who did not know

What they really needed.

Providing a “show”

Of IMAGINED possibilities

Potential yearned for

In the vanity of self-deception.


Of the negative self

That they were.

Books In A Case

All in a jumble

Papers and Documents

Ready to Crumble

None from this Year

None Perennial

Except perhaps…


The Bible

Which says in part

“Dust Thou Art”.






Inspiration From Looking Down


A Stone On The Ground.

What first catches our eye
Might not be what we need to see
Just the attraction
To show us the Truth within the Beauty.

When I took this photo I was relaxing in a garden.  Having looked up and around at all the beauty of Nature, I glanced down. There at my feet was the most beautiful refreshing “arrangement” of fallen pieces of Nature’s bloom.  After drinking it in, I took this photo.
A couple days later I looked at the photo,  and saw the stone. That is what I needed to see.

Inspiration sometimes comes from looking down.



The street is deserted
Devoid of all human movement
Except my own.

In its desertedness I find comfort
In my aloneness peace
As in a desert.

Desolation does not engulf me
When no other Human I see
I am not alone.

I have my thoughts
I have my memories
I have me.

Though the street is deserted
Evidence is there
That others came this way too.


My daughter worked at one

I used to sit in this one

In Barbados ne’er a one

In Dalston there is one

McDonald’s McDonald’s McDonald’s

All the children screaming for one

McDonald’s McDonald’s McDonald’s

Can’t find a Wimpy
Can’t see a Burger King
In most parts of London
‘Cause this McDonald’s
Doing everything
Even gentryfying its design
To keep up with the Times
Still it’s good for something:
When I need a toilet
I too scream

A Place For All


The smell of mince pies, freshly baked
Assailed the air
Challenging one to not smile
While listening to the banter
Of those gathered around tables
Restaurant style
Awaiting the fare.

Breakfast was over, dishes removed
By cards and board games
Challenging the brain
While music in the background
Streamed from the kitchen
Just loud enough to hear.


Drop In!
For a hot meal, a drink
Coffee Tea Water Milk
Fresh Juice and food prepared
By cheerful pleasant Volunteers
Who mind their own business –
Unless invited yours to share.

Not to say they don’t care
For why else would they be here
From the crack of Dawn?
No, they merely know their places
As cooks and scrubs and servants
Big brothers and aunties and mothers
And helping hands.

Lunch bears no pretenses
And holds no shame
Just solid fare brought to table
With a smile and no blame
While sandwiches bagged earlier
Wait on the counter
To be later given away.


Old young pretty or thin
Hard of hearing
Black white or gray
Eloquent stuttering or dumb
Or even sight-impaired,
Alone single or coupled
No discrimination here.


The Tab Centre, they call it
A place for all, they say
Where friends can meet and relax
In a kindly atmosphere.
Where once you’ve been
You leave recharged
And go happily on your way.