Long ago in the history of man
He was filled with fear and anger
And war with his neighbours
Was a constant need he thought
For his very survival.
And so it was.

Yet even then there were those
Who had no desire to kill
And oftentimes they were sacrificed as fools
For man was driven by an insatiable drive
To protect, to enlarge and to hoard.
And so it was.

And overtime man found many new ways
To invade and kill his neighbours
And rape women and steal their children
Often selling them to richer tribes
And thus was slavery begun.
And so it was.

Yet still the lonely voice in the wilderness
Cried out for an end to the slaughter
Until finally the voice was heard
And great swathes of history
Tell of peaceful times for all.
And so it was.

But man still felt his warlike need
To dominate the weak and small
And wars continued and yet still do
For man has never learned to quell
That savage rage within his breast.
And thus I fear, it shall remain.

©Joe Wilson – The history of man…2017

Waking to the joyful sound of a morning bird
In our small quiet house near the green
I was reminded, just for a short while
Of those long ago halcyon days in between
When to feel what I feel would have been absurd.

That nations could tear each other apart
Would have been unthinkable, but then
Even the Cold War seemed peaceful compared
Though the Berlin Wall was a nightmare from when
But the tearing it down seemed a really good start.

And yet here we are some seventeen years in
To a century that is so filled with death
Twin towers fetched down that caused such loss
Continuous warring has taken life’s breath
While innocents are killed for others great sin.

When will enough death be enough death
Will mankind be slaughtered to extinction
Will we never realise the futility of war
If we did it would be our greatest distinction
Yet even now I wait and hold my breath.

©Joe Wilson – The brink…2017

He stepped out into uncertainty
What would this day send his way
Blanking his mind to possibilities
He’d see what came into play.

Yesterday hadn’t been do bad
He’d made it to the end
But the pain that nestled in his heart
Though friends distract, it would never mend.

And tomorrow, what of tomorrow
Assuming he lasts out the night
He’ll step out uncertain once again
Emotional wreck, but he keeps it in tight.

And that is now his three day life
Yesterday, today and tomorrow
It’s the way he manages to live his life
Or else he’d drown in his sorrow.

For what is a man when cast alone
But a wayward in need of a port
Without the anchor of love to hold
His worth is reduced down to nought,

Quite soon the hours meant nothing
He rarely now bothered with food
His friends no longer distract him
And he’s fearful he darkens the mood.

Thus what might it say on his tombstone
He pined right away till he died
He foolishly let his good friendships sail
Those who’d always been by his side.

Sensible people live in company
Fools often die alone.

©Joe Wilson…2016

And so the Winter came
Inexorable indeed, as sure as
Night follows day.
Wet so far this year
With ground so sodden
That we might fear
That if it rains so very hard
In places there’ll be Hell to pay.
The inevitability of floods again
Perhaps in the Somerset Levels
Where at least
they’ve forced some dredging
Out of those political devils.

As with health, education
And being secure
Money should be spent
On the land for sure.
But one wonders sometimes
About brown paper packets
From crooked men
With their crooked rackets
That disappear into certain pockets
And ease the signing of particular dockets.

For it’s not the concrete
That covers the land
But where the government
Allows it put
It’s no use building
On marshland
You’d think they’d understand.
Yet I’ve no doubt at all
That cash changes hands
Perhaps not these days
In stretched rubber bands.
Yet in a place
Of expenses fraud
Filled by those
Who decide our fate
I’m minded of
Wise words I heard
It’s often said
Crooks congregate.

©Joe Wilson – Winter floods…2016

He wasn’t always like this, so poor
Nor did he used to wear that frown
But one day he got the depression
From then on the way was just down.

He never saw it coming at all
One day was the same as tomorrow
But out of the blue she just left him
And that was the start of his sorrow.

It’s true to say he lived for his work
He was ruthless in doing the job right
But the price he paid was too much to bear
For not keeping his love in his sight.

Now down in the gutter just scraping to live
He has visions of those days in his past
But a pass of a bottle of cheap whisky
And that image of beauty doesn’t last.

One day he woke and forgot who he was
He raged and he screamed but for nought
Now he’s strapped to a bed in a room somewhere
He bewildered as his head just won’t hold a thought.

©Joe Wilson – Depression…2016