Mercy Street No.4

 

Thin looking, gaunt even
The years on the street
Had not been kind.
He was missing an eye
That he’d lost in a fight
Long, long ago
In country.

Considered himself lucky
So many had gone
Far less came home
To the World.

Soldiers do the bidding
Of political whores
Dying alone
On faraway shores
There are no winners
Only God keeps the scores.

He’d done alright though
For quite a while
He’d worked in a truck stop
Handing out the smile.

Bu the nightmares became
Just too much to bear
So he took to the street
To a life so unfair
Where each meal he ate
Was now stolen or begged
By sitting on the sidewalk
Cap out, cross-legged.

A street tramp he was now
As politicians still talk
They sent him over there
But they don’t walk the walk.

©Joe Wilson – Mercy Street No.4…2017

Storm clouds…

 

Wet grass
Almost unmowable
Autumn damp
Yet not quite cold.
Leaves not fallen
Few if any
Climate changes
Denied by so many.
Yet lucky are we
The temperate west
While others suffer
But still do their best.
Lives get shattered
Earthquakes destroy
Houses all wrecked
As if they’re a toy.
Nothing gets left
As hurricanes sweep
Barren lands now
Families weep.
Too late the help
Of NGOs came
Nothing for some
Will ever be the same.

©Joe Wilson – Storm clouds…2017

The highways of life…

 

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How long the highways of life can seem
That leave an imprint on your heart
To deal with and then not to succumb
As the heartache breaks you apart.

Mile upon mile we travelled as one
Seeking such joy in a life that shone
And then one day I looked, you were gone
Yet the blacktop painfully carries me on.

So trudge do I my lonely soul
A life alone and joyous free
My memories I do yet control
And while it’s so you’re here with me.

We sat by lakes and hung our feet
In bright clear water warmed by sun
And watched the dawn rise from the east
A life of joy had thus begun.

But now, alone, my thoughts are bleak
You seem to slip so far away
And days now pass when I don’t speak
For what is there now left to say.

©Joe Wilson – The highways of life…2017

Not my choice…

 

But yet your heart
Though in your chest
Is beating still
At your behest
You feel it throb
Within your breast
But from the pain
There is no rest.
It’s crush is slow
There is no end
Until the pain
Becomes a friend
For as the days
Blend into one
Those happy moments
All long gone.
The way is there
Alone you’ll be
Resist all love
And stay pain free.

©Joe Wilson – Not my choice…2017

A Summer love…

 

Browning now and soon to fall
No longer Spring when first you’d call
Each year I wait for your return
When thus my stomach starts to churn.

For with you came my love to me
A Summer love so filled and free
And as the Autumn came and went
You left and our love seemed all spent.

As Winter comes to freeze my bones
I walk among the graveyard stones
And wait for Spring to see again
Your flowers that bring me such pain.

Yet once more the Spring arrived
And flowers bloomed and some just thrived
But you had not a bud this year
My love has left for good I fear.

©Joe Wilson – A Summer love…2017

Who is really ignorant…

 

Once again daylight brought no relief
Their hopes, now shattered, soon turn to grief
Famine they’d known, but none such as this
Crops lying withered by a hard sunshine’s kiss.
People lay down sometimes never to rise
Rain still refusing to fall from the skies
Anguish was etched on young mothers’ faces
Death making visits to so many places.

Save the Children and then The Red Cross
Struggling so hard to temper the loss
The climate is changing but who gives a toss
Big business and bottom lines just please the boss!

Our air is polluted but it can be undone
A willingness for change from everyone
The polluters are us in our wondrous First World
But the poverty elsewhere has cruelly unfurled.
The death knell now sounds in faraway lands
People are suffering yet don’t understand
For they do no harm to the rich life on Earth
But many will die and become part of it’s dearth.

©Joe Wilson – Who is really ignorant…2017

The arrogance of man…(A sonnet)

Ridded was he now of his once giant ego
Sorrow and regret walked by his side
All that he had ever truly been
And worn with pointless, arrogant pride
Was cast away from him in anguish
As overwhelmed so completely, he cried.

And as he walked among the gravestones
He once again sensed the futility of war.

A warm breeze blew through the damp jungle
Where once he had fought and survived
He is here to honour platoon mates
Whose futures were so surely deprived.
Yet still to the North of this sad place
The ego of man threatens us all once more.

©Joe Wilson – The arrogance of man…2017