On such a glorious day as this
We left the aisle in wedded bliss
And through the years of joy, and pain
I’ve thought, I’d do it all again.
A journey such as we have made
Where love stands out and ill did fade
Was all I ever hoped to see
With one who’d know the real me.
©Joe Wilson – A short note to my wife…2015
Undressed, she hooked him, a feast for his eyes
Wearing only deceit like a shawl
But still he found himself trapped by her lies
As he waited for night when she demanded his all.
Hard in desire, yet still deeper in contempt
In passion she drives him to pain
And dark of the eye and with wild hair unkempt
She demands him again and again.
And so again in deep embrace
In thrusting joy and symmetry
They slow right down, it’s not a race
Moving to heaven with intensity.
He of course, just kids himself
They’re lovers, there’s no deceit
The thoughts he has in passion’s stealth
Help make the act complete.
Many times he’s lain in this nest
He wants for nothing here
And as he sleeps in grateful rest
From his eye seeps a satisfied tear.
©Joe Wilson – In passion…2015
She looks in the mirror and there she sees
All the hurt and the pain of her yesterdays
Yet the laughter too, and all of the joy
And she wistfully smiles in a way almost coy.
Life for her had never been terribly kind
Yet she still felt that it was a gift, in her mind
Her kindness a legend felt deeply by some
To others, never simply a wife or a mum.
She thought she could still feel the cuts of the knife
As she looked back, just this once over her life
She remembered what had had to be taken away
And the reasons though, why she was still here today.
And though she’d never felt the least singled out
She sometimes just wanted to scream and shout
Then she went to her sun-lounge where it was much warmer
And prepared yet again to face this new trauma.
The sound had gone right out of her days
It was the hardest thing she felt she could face
And try as she might to live with this…thing
She so missed the sound when the blackbirds all sing.
Some of us take such things for granted I know
Never imagining that it would ever just go
To see one you love in this now soundless state
Makes you graciously thankful it isn’t your fate.
One day…we hope.
©Joe Wilson – The sometimes unkind weave of life…2015
(This is very personal therapy, it is much more feelings, than quality.)
Everywhere that he ever went
He always travelled in style
With supple leather and cocktail bar
He sat in the rear for mile upon mile.
He traded this, he traded that
Till finally he didn’t care
It was weapons he sold, they were deadly
To him in war, all things were fair.
And then one day he got the chance
To choose twixt loss or gain
Some men kidnapped his family
He had never felt such pain.
The ransom when it came was surprising
There was just one simple demand
Stop all of the sales of your weapons
Including those already planned.
For him the choice was so easy
He turned from the cocktail haze
Now he writes of love and of romance
With his family near, life finally pays.
©Joe Wilson – The choice…2015
Heavy the heart
Painful the burden
The messenger’s part
In passing the word on.
Deep are the creases
That now line his brow
The pain never ceases
It’s personal somehow.
His was the book
Which counted the dead
But each killing took
His heart’s peace instead.
They were his men
He loved them like sons
They’ll not sing again
Silenced by guns.
The letters he wrote
To tell of each death
Families he smote
By words of last breath.
The killing decided
There’s no final amount
Messenger lies dead
One more for the count.
©Joe Wilson – The letters…2015
A breath is being taken that’s so shallow
No sound the breathing now makes
The fear of death lurking in the shadows
Immerses the souls in fearful quakes.
For the breathing of man is a precious gift
Yet one taken as a right by this sinner
But the spectre in the shadows is yet waiting
As the rasping sound of death grows ever thinner.
A tear now slowly falls from the dying man’s eye
It lands with a mighty clap upon his pillow
For the man is in such pain while he is living
Yet he knows there’s more to come at where he’ll go.
For not a word of simple kindness did he ever utter
A cruelty to fellow-men was all he’d show
And he never gave but a thought to how we got here
But down there, it’s safe to say, he’ll surely know.
©Joe Wilson – His last breath…2015
This reckless place that is my mind
That shows me much, though oft I’m blind
Has nonetheless led me to you
A glorious, amazing thing to do.
And that alone brings other pain
That I might not see you again
For as we age our body’s tire
I say ‘who cares’, I call me liar.
But side by side we love and chat
Laughing, remembering this and that
And in your tender arms in bliss
O Lord please let us go like this.
For all eternity we will stay
As lovers, as we are today.
©Joe Wilson – For all eternity…2015
Silence echoes so loud in my tunnel
Breakneck the speed that I flew down the funnel
In bright psychodelia my eyes cry in pain
Migrainous headache hits my brain cells again.
Analgesic no use in this situation
Send me to sleep, causing much aggravation
The pain still remains as always it does
The silence so noisy, like a gigantic buzz.
So to my bed and to lie down again
Under the duvet, my warm comfy friend
Back to the sleep and my tunnel of pain
The tunnel revealing this time, a loud train.
Train thunders over my temples this time
I declare migraine headaches – violent crime!
©Joe Wilson – Migraine tunnels…2015
His pain from fire was seen round the world
And Governments’ collective lips all curled
Such profanity was displayed without a care
A King left the runway as his jet took to air.
Leading his people against this vicious attack
It began long ago and there’s no going back
They’re baying now for the terrorist blood
He’s sure to know it will come to no good.
So many wars and so much fighting
And so much bloody death
New children are brought into the world
Where wars just rob them of their first breath.
Everywhere now seems awash with the blood
With the blood of the Innocents
While the world is slowing destroying itself
In human inflicted increments.
©Joe Wilson – Taking the lead…2015
He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.
The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.
The rape and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.
On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.
He saw the vilest sins of history’s pain
enslavement of those for other’s gain
let loose man’s done some terrible things
hope’s voice is quelled by vicious stings.
The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it’s full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day’s end, his worth.
No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.
No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he’d look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.
The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome’s dark cover
then his sad fate he’d soon discover.
©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014
Jovis on a Journey... 