Were we really all in it together…

The natural home of the poet
Is not among society’s elite
But away from the riches and finery
And the fat-cat country seat.

We’re the eyes for the one who’s the underdog
The one struggling hard for his kin
The one who lost out when they took all the jobs
Who stands in the food queue again.

We’re the questioning voice of the sickly
While hospitals have wards that are closed
Who wonder why governments say ‘We all spend more!’
And ponder where it’s been disposed.

We have Portakabin classrooms that just shouldn’t be
And walls full of mould in our schools
Yet pay and pensions in the Westminster bubble
Go up yet again, as we’re treated as fools.

It’s quite true we don’t wander around with the rich
For our hearts and our minds are elsewhere
We’re keeping a watch on corruption at large
And versing your created despair.

©Joe Wilson – Were we really all in it together…2015

Outrageous fortune…

Voracious the appetite of government departments
Entrapping the citizen in reams of red tape
Bringing out laws that reduce our empowerment
They are in charge…there is no escape!
 

Woeful the behaviour of said politicians
Claims of expenses for things they don’t need
Peddling half-truths in the Westminster bubble
Those grand good intentions get lost to the greed.
 

But we do get a chance in May, this year
To say who shall mess up the next, let’s not gripe
Though it matters not where your crosses are placed
They’ll all make us suffer, no matter their stripe.
 

Patients will still lie in A & E corridors
While over-stretched staff do their best
Sick people die from a lack of attention
The system is wrong and not properly addressed.
 

The greed will go on, the poor will still lose
While the fortunate will reap the rewards
The disreputable will be given directorships
No men of honour left to fall on their swords.
 
 

©Joe Wilson – Outrageous fortune…2015

He looked at the cross…

It had been a while
it had been an age
since he last let his style
wander over the page.

He still felt such rage
which made him feel dire
but there’d be no next stage
till he’d put out this fire.

He felt so much calmer
as ink flowed ‘cross the page
words were such a disarmer
he had issues to engage.

The more that he penned
the calmer he got
as he tried to amend
and move on from this spot.

But at the very last line
with his pen in the margin
he tore it up as a sign
and he’d write it again.

____________________

Anger all gone now
he looked at the cross
and he knew then that somehow
He was sharing his loss.

He felt again whole
as he laid his pen down
he felt back in control
from a peace he’d now found.

Presently he turned again to his labours
leaving his writing and going back to his lathe
and as he looked over at one of his neighbours
he thought of his son on a cross being brave.

Who’d not spoken of God
or of angels with wings
but of the land and the sod
and of bread, fish and things.

Ah the mysteries of life
are such a matter of faith
she was Joseph’s wife
But ’twas God kept her safe.

©Joe Wilson – He looked at the cross…2014

This is a sort of fantasia on Joseph’s story

The Family Silver Sale Or The Stafford Hospital Lament…

I didn’t realise. I was a fool
Just another government tool
Beavering away, working hard
Until I got the pensioner’s card.

And now my ancient bones all ache
I’ll need NHS for my health’s sake
But a third of contracts in sickness’ fray
Like my local hospital, they were given away.

People’s views all treated with disdain
The Health Service reeling from such internal pain
While the wealthy go private, it’s simple for them
The ire of voters won’t be so easy to stem.

©Joe Wilson – The Family Silver Sale or The Stafford Hospital Lament… 2014

Self-made Armageddon…

And the days were spent in wonder
at all the horrors He’d seen
He sent unholy flooding and chaos
To wash the planet clean.

To see if change was ever made
He waited then two thousand years
But horror still was all around
And what He saw proved all His fears.

Can man not recognise his fate
can he not see when he is wrong
can man not see of His design
that words like peace and love mean strong.

The fiery pits that destroy our Earth
aren’t in the depths of Hell
they’ll be the fire and cordite
of that last exploding shell!!

©Joe Wilson – Self-made Armageddon… 2014

A tiny tear…

 

 A tiny tear falls from my eye

For each and every death

Another suicide bomb goes off

And snuffs out human breath.

 

They blow themselves for principles

That we don’t understand

If they are right —if we are right

It still means blood-stained land.

 

For pity’s sake each life that’s lost

Just hardens attitudes against

We have to talk to stop their deaths

And negotiate without constraints.

 

Each innocent life that gets destroyed

Is a wasted friend or lover

A murdered mother or father

Or a dead sister or brother.

 

This surely cannot go on forever…

 

©Joe Wilson – A tiny tear…2014

 

The slaughtered…

I could not

 

Whoever would fire a bullet?
I ask as I’m surely confused
Who on Earth would want to shatter
All that beauty that Nature has fused!

Who sits in a hide away from the light
Waiting for the deer to call
They don’t need the meat, that’s not the treat
It’s the head and the points on the wall!

Tribesmen in ‘less civilised’ countries
Might hunt down just such a deer
Then they pray for the soul of the slaughtered
For life-saving food from a beast they revere!

Not for them the revulsion of trophies
They only kill what they need
But in our ‘so civilised’ society
We can kill just for pleasure or greed.

There is something not right in society
Where solutions come from a gun
Weapons should be just for protection
They should never be used for such ‘fun’.

“Please do not be offended by my reference to a ‘less civilised’ society. I refer only to a lack of modernity and in actuality we are the far more crudely behaved frequently” Joe Wilson 2014

 

©Joe Wilson – The slaughtered… 2014