στα όνειρα (In dreams)

NASA Interplanetary Super-highway
NASA Interplanetary Super-highway

I was never one to complain – like hell, I complain about all kinds of everything
Nonetheless I had never for a moment thought that I would be the one chosen to go
To travel that far with no guarantee I could ever come home
To live with the knowledge that we might lose everything I valued
But it was a risk I knew that one day I would take, a choice that one day I knew I’d make.

But Mars! This was gonna be one hell of a journey
One we’d trained for for years, one we’d hoped for all our lives
But way back then none of us had children and wives.

Blast off successful and we were heading up at thousands of feet a second
No going back now. Goddamn it, it was better than all the pot he’d ever smoked
But it was serious stuff, despite all of this and that that they joked.

But then when he thought about it he realised the nonsense of it all
We can’t even look after the planet that we live on
What right have we to go and probably destroy another one!!!

The spell was broken – he woke up. It was just a dream.

©Joe Wilson – στα όνειρα (In dreams)2014

A whimsical bit of nonsense about distance.

…it will never stop…

old-man-reading-200x200

He sits there reading, happy enough now in his own company
what is it he reads -ah yes – a Tale of Two Cities
a favourite, but one which evokes an old memory
of long ago when he was just a young man.

Of a time when war raged across Europe like a plague
when it was in the grip of a madman bent
on seizing power everywhere and not caring how
and men like him and many of his friends went.

But then there seemed a real purpose to it
and besides, he met Françoise and loved her so
and later with many of his friends now dead
it was over so he went back home with Françoise instead.

Now she also is no more, killed by muggers who were armed
and he sits all alone, no girls, no sons
wondering why his country’s leaders
can never see the futility of all the guns.

Once more the planet rages with war
once more there will be unnecessary deaths
he finds himself wishing the impossible thought
the non-invention of guns, and it leaves him short of breath.

Sadly men would have just found another way to kill each other
– and that is the real problem. It never goes away.

 

©Joe Wilson – …it will never stop…2014

Bellepheron

Bellepheron

He was a dignified man, quiet and still
And it was long years since he’d felt such a pain
But the haunting voice he now heard in his head
Was calling him in a challenge again.

He knew the dark monster had risen yet again
He felt it in every fibre of his being
So he gathered his belongings and left his small room
To face the vile creature he’d soon be seeing.

Bellepheron summoned the winged horse
He armed himself with his spear
The Chimera was such a mighty beast
And it’s flaming breath was to fear.

But Bellepheron had a plan for that
He loaded his spear up with lead
And upon his attack on the fearsome beast
He dropped it and it’s throat blocked instead.

Bellepheron became a hero defeating the Amazons too
He defeated the Soylmi and many other tribes
But his ego was getting a little too large
And assassins were beginning to take bribes.

Bellepheron sadly suffered from hubris
And Zeus caused him to fall to the earth
Where as a blinded and crippled lonely hermit
He lived a poor life – no longer of worth.

©Joe Wilson – Bellepheron 2014

The Jules Rimet

10beckenbauer

So now the thing is over
all the pundits have gone back home
and the Rimet Trophy has been put away
to be played for again another day
some managers will now lose their teams
for not fulfilling a nation’s dreams.

But it is football, just a game
men paid so much, disgraceful shame
while others struggle to put food on the table
players cavorted like Betty Grable
but we watched it still – we cannot stop
I wonder when the penny will drop.

I remember pictures in black and white
when games were played in failing light
where players had jobs to earn their pay
and played the game on Saturday
where then the ref’s decision was law
and players didn’t roll round on the floor.

Those days are gone and that’s for sure
the balls were heavy and kit was poor
but player’s hearts were in the game
and not the glory of fleeting fame
when celebrity wasn’t theme of the day
for men oft found to have ‘feet of clay’.

©Joe Wilson – The Jules Rimet 2014

I can still remember Franz Beckenbauer playing on after breaking his arm, simply by wearing a  black sling to support it…a sight you wouldn’t see today.

The Seed

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In the boiler-room of life powerful energy is forcing new growth
As a very small shoot pushes its way out of a small seed’s husk
And as if by some magical force it is drawn upwards towards the light
Picking its way through the soil and between the stones that lie
Betwixt its chance of seeing the sun or falling by the way.

Slowly and surely it climbs up to the as yet unknown surface
Struggling in its weakness yet fighting in its single aim
To break through and reach out for the warmth of the sun,
Its fleshy stem hardening as it grows ever taller in its reach
To the sky and its second-year show of bright flowers.

The days march on and soon it develops large broad leaves
Which gather the rains that feed it life right to its roots
From which its energy comes with a force as great as any
In the universe…it is life, it is beauty, it is magical
Till finally it pushes the beginnings of its flowers out.

For all the world to see the majesty that is the purpose
Of its existence in this meadow of life and death, for now
The creatures come to feast on its sweet nectar and they
Will carry its pollen far and wide ensuring that new life will
Always be assured and that the circle of life is complete.

 

©Joe Wilson – The Seed 2014