vortex

father see’s a mothers red tears
embrace and hold
together as one
a son’s anger,
quick flash phosphorous
explosive and regrettable
yet change occurs
a fathers eyes,
become so different
lens of caution
draws over cornea
digging hands in pockets
remaining apart
unsure of the person
he helped create,
yesterday would not be
recovered,
it was hauled
into the dark subconscious
stored in a file
tentative regeneration
but there would be
a difference now

 

 

maelstrom

ardors grip
blinding as searing light
tears open caring heart
anger as old as creation,
tears at family daisy chain
crushing stems
leaving it broken
unhooked green stems
wilting broken asunder
where was the stars
and the open eyes
heart chimed
a mother resolute
that a son will be
not dead to her
but salvage
to be gathered
and supported
mending can be heard
in the blur of tears,
fragile dreams
will be recovered slowly
with different endings
when the darkness
vanishes

jamie and the 31p cornflakes

you food preacher,

man of spatula skills

appear on lcd tv

and tell us of our food

our lifestyle,

congested lungs and stomach

and inability to feed ourselves,

the benefit louche

and disposable low income,

our world has no michelin stars

siting over

wild tarragon and mussels

instead kebabs or chip shop,

waste of money to some

but we need to live as well

already ghettoized

by paparazzi

obese and slovenly,

try finding money for electric

meter

or 52 inch tv,

we are human remember

lives of our own

and those to be born,

stigmata

of minimum wage

and rent overpriced,

come into our world

if you must

but do not preach or condemn

you can never understand

cook, food , poverty

Jamie Oliver

food, poverty , Jamie Oliver

31p Cornflakes