The bones of Christmas, ragged torn,

carved, discarded, bin-bound waste.

In the farmyard cruelly born

raised for purpose, culled in haste.

The ribboned knot of cast-off wrap,

stuffed in plastics killer sack.

An offering up of deadly crap

to fill a void that can't grow back.

The joy of peace in frugal life,

of roots in earth as rich as Kings.

Reward born...

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For my Father

In dreams my father is with me.

He lives in his nightmare wide awake.

In dreams my legs buckle.

He falls in his nightmare.

I see him, we cannot speak,

his frail hands outstretched to his child.

His hanging mouth a cave

with all his life inside, forgotten.

Asleep in his bed like amber in linen,

withered by time and ages rot.

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Larkin lived on Dixon Drive

now he's still dead

and I'm alive.

He stacked books

with referenced spine

and trousered coin,

paid in fine.

I lived just off Ethel Road

half a man

but full-on toad.

Crushed into my loutish form

dull schooling

shaped me

to this norm.

Phil moved on,

to Queens and hope

with less despair

and longer rope.

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Tree

of joy,

of pagan

rite, reaching out

on this silent night

rain your spores that all may

know, seeds of hope take and grow,

to bloom in man’s infertile heart

where once love stuttered, it might restart.

I have succumbed to the temptation of a reverse nonet. I don't often take part in these exercises but in the spirit of celebration thought I might. Tha...

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All the poets of all the kings

with all their fine imaginings

have only ever offered up

the favoured flavour of their sup.

with words so lofty, full of grace

persuading of their given place,

that they alone could fill that space.

Emblazoned coin, gods chosen face.

While those of us with poets eyes

not blessed with pardons for our lies,

see through the c...

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Women cradled newborn babes veiled with a mothers blood,

their hands steady and assured.

Their love knew no jealous god, no book or holy ground,

their voices spoken not written.

Beaten and defiled by men borne by woman's pain,

men corrupted by instruction and fear.

Their bodies vessel's of nurture and hope, broken by hate,

bloodied fists against bare flesh.

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Wrapped in sky and heathered hills

caressed by briny horses wild,

so far from dark satanic mills

survives the empire's favoured child.

Once stripped and starved of tongue and god

its people slaved and banished cold,

crofts and mànas razed to sod

that none who dwelled there might grow old.

But land in time calls back its own

disgorging tyrants, killing king...

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He has taken things from children

and sometimes from the dead,

often both at once

yet not a word was said.

He has broken imposed curfews

commandments and the law,

in many different countries

protected by a war.

He has spoken of sedition

incitement and of hate,

with words as ammunition

he's schemed to obfuscate.

He has dealt with kings and ...

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Ice puddles like lily pads

an archipelago of creeping freeze,

stepping stones of tears perhaps

shed by autumns grieving trees...

then captured in the frozen glare

of sunlight’s first defiant rays,

they'll fade as if were never there

to herald in such hopeful days.

So many things unseen by men

the simple and the subtle change,

that slip through time like...

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I see them in forgotten towns

men in pairs and burdened mums,

nowhere stares with heads bowed down

"Something broken this way comes"

In carless forecourts of bleak hotels

where fag butts rot and litter blows,

cruel deals are done that no one tells...

We turn our heads so no one knows.

While in the dens of whispered spite

be-trolleyed locals sneer and scoff...

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Though there are wars we cannot see

their wounds and scars leave history

some is carved in marbled stone

the names of those beloved and known...

and some is seared to flesh and mind

unknown to those we left behind

who waved us off and served us well

and in their waiting shared our hell

Video and Audio available at link below

https://wolfgarwords.com/...

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Flesh is commodity

guns universal

uniforms reversable

flags incontrovertible

Kimchi for Borscht

tank for a horse

fodder for force

mutual of course

Bodies for bags

medals perhaps

dictators relapse

generational gaps

Star for a Sickle

water for trickle

allegiance for fickle

too much for so Little

Blood for the soil

dollars fo...

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The Jag is in the driveway

behind the iron gates,

the home was christened "My-Way"

(he who loses hesitates)

All the frills are garish

from The Pillars to The Pool,

the gothic-faux nightmarish

its rendition most uncool.

The topiary is phallic

it's freudiently flawed,

the colour palette so manic

passing psychopaths applaud.

A bronze eagle guard...

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Their branches proud above the town

like men in rank, their feet in mud,

skyward facing they can't look down

their roots fixed in this land of blood.

And onward, over fields and seas

men wrenched their hearts too far from home,

mere saplings who would not make trees

but from whose seed a nation's grown.

Across the green, the cenotaph

its lonely stone, rain...

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Where might you be?

not on some lazy Isle sun-kissed and loved.

In rain-soaked streets beneath epileptic light?

are you where you thought you'd be...

are you un-anchored from your dreams?

passed through their veil of comfort...

real worlds are the sum of all our disappointment

their dark corners offer no redemption.

Is it just the night that brings you s...

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Not much, but at least a place to die.

The faux heroics of killers obliterates their victims...

languishing, chained to the memories of those who wait.

Ignored in gleaming streets or broken in the ruins.

Automatons of death find them; their eyes show all to all.

A news clip, a gif, an empty revenge on waste.

Old men dine in celebration, "Manna and Halva f...

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Does Winter come upon an hour

to crush the bloom of autumn flower,

to take the silken petalled ball

before its fading beauty falls.

Or does it come with malcontent

in crueller winds that won't relent,

to drive it hard without reprieve

so all that lived before must leave.

And we who watch those come and go

just like the seasons cannot know,

when turns ou...

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                     i

Millenia before divisions birth

sands shifted unconstrained,

seas un-parted caressed the earth,

no sacred path by men ordained.

                   ii

Lands unfolding, gods and kings

psalms and gospels, crescent and cross.

Twelve tribes rising, desert springs,

prophesying wealth and loss.

Borders burnin...

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The wreckage on the ocean floor

lies deep,

the treasure that it went there for

its murky world will keep...

as are the souls and truths

of those who dare to seek,

beyond the veiled lies of proof

too many others speak.

Above, the shallow sunbathers

bask in filtered light,

welcoming malignancy

they revel in The Blight...

they'll all go down t...

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To live in the shadow of one's self

is to never see new light,

reliance upon historic wealth

is the Kingdom of the trite.

To tread unknowing steered by will

is to chance new worlds to see,

the path of men should not be still

that all of man be free.

Audio and Video available at link below

https://wolfgarwords.com/2024/10/02/a-prison-is-the-past/

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The Orange Groves in salty air

stand proudly, squat toward the Sea

the cultured roots that hold them there

unseen beneath each nurtured tree.

The blossomed fruit pristine with dew

raised up through rock, held firm by soil,

is testament to life anew

and those who gave with blood and toil.

Though the sky will fall and burn

and some may cling to cleft and sha...

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To speak of treachery one should know

that those betrayed

sometimes do sow...

the seed that takes to fertile soil,

polluting blooms

for future spoil.

The revelation of the fact

by gloating fools

unveils their act...

that they unknowing of their fate

expose their woven web

of hate.

Audio and Video available at link below

https://wolfg...

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Men, entrenched like ancient trees

whose branches mock their roots,

their trunks engorged with gnarled disease...

embittering their fruits.

The axe gleams brightly in The Sun

beyond the shaded edge,

where with one swing its work begun

it fells their broken pledge.

To cut and clear the rot away

of stock that's grown too long,

where green shoots feel the ...

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His fists to her were love,
bouquet’d bruises in velvet glove.
Her tears like salted diamonds fell
shaped from pain she’d never tell...

her children, not of hope but fear
their ransom all that held her here,
though if she ever could she would
renege her tortured motherhood.

She pictured home as was before
unbent, unbroke behind her door.
The hurt, she fashioned into ca...

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The morning mist conceals the birds,

yet still their lilting song

is heard.

I lay a while beneath my shroud

listening to the

warbling cloud.

The coffee cup drains itself

while topping up my

fickle health.

From radio's reluctant news

blooms yesterday's

emerging bruise...

to spread its spill like rancid oil

toward the day

as if to sp...

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Words emerged from alphabets

born of tongues the world forgets,

hieroglyphics from a wall

their echo sent to teach us all.

The documented "Rites of Spring"

the histories that they danced within,

so frantic that they lost all breath

their language spoke itself to death.

Yet here we stand at Babel’s Gate,

tongues still tied, is it too late?

to learn from...

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The bus is double decked for fear

that those below might come too near,

and break the spell of motions peace

where trials and tribulations cease.

I float above the addled Streets

on clouds of ruined ragged seats,

I see the penned in office slaves

computer screens, like headstoned graves...

Traversing through this fashioned feast

I'm swallowed by some other...

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In the pit of me

my own epitome,

within which lies

the wasted grit of me.

From pearl to sand

the sea made land,

washed up and used

a gift abused.

The clam prised wide,

hollow inside,

pearlescent sheen

of what had been.

The jagged edge

remains to tell,

that trusted pledge

can be but shell.

Audio and Video available at link be...

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Four Stations,

stumbling steps,

inspiration,

life’s precepts.

The hand of peace,

a step toward,

that distance cease

with loves reward.

Four Stations,

walking tall,

realisation,

breaks our fall.

Through perilous night

our journey’s wind,

yet we shed light

when we are kind.

There are numerous accounts of "The Stations of T...

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Dreams slither away from me.

Beneath sheets of layered retreat

they rise as conjured wishes,

then fall like chances lost.

Memory seeks what eyes can't see.

Invented glories the lies of conceit

history revised where hits were misses,

the balance outstanding, no matter the cost.

Video and Audio at link below

https://wolfgarwords.com/2024/09/06/deficit/

...

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Sometimes like a cat poetry refuses to leave the tree,

we know it isn't truly stuck, it's up there being free.

Among the leaves and branches with jumbled words and winds

that make no sense to anyone unless the songbird sings...

sometimes soft and sometimes shrill it wisps the flailing breeze

to lift and craft within its will a moment sent to please.

All things of form h...

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Not to be or R2P,

So what's the Dilemma?

when doing right

makes economies tremor.

When "Never Again"

is reasoned away,

no matter to those

who don't have a say.

The panga and bomb

the fist and the gun,

reign over a song

too often heard sung.

The pen and the suit

the fine things of State,

the willing recruit

to The Profits of Hate.

...

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It is deep inside

at the back of the cave

where warmth never reaches

where the lick of the flame

is extinguished

by shadow

Something invisible

guards the black hollow

where eyes lose light

like a brain

behind thin skull

its fragile brilliance cowers and coils

It waits

for the unwitting word

that carelessly encroaches

with wickedness and ...

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The silhouetted beasts and signs

like cave art

in these darkening times

Overnight they herd in scrawl

to gather

on our city walls

Their short-lived lives fade too quick

they die

though they were never sick

What trace might last when we are gone

when no walls stand

to carve upon?

Video and Audio at link below

https://wolfgarwords.com/...

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The Sunshine of My Life

was

cancer neath the Surgeon’s Knife

The Calm that Lulled My Restless Mind

was

storm cloud of some Other Kind

The Pennies on My Shuttered Eyes

are

answers to My Living Whys

The Tears that Fall When I am Gone

will

not absolve me of My Wrong

The Words I've Penned with Flippant Hand

will

shift and drift like Wo...

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When I was young and only knew

of love as pure as morning dew,

I fixed upon a Scottish sky

with clear untainted childish eye...

and wondered what might lie beyond

to hold my heart and mind so fond,

that I could leave such sheltered home

and without want so idly roam.

Now I am old I've come to know

of love that stays wherever I go,

that see's beyond t...

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I am of fighting age

though all I've ever done is run

They put me in this cushioned cage

and tarred me with what others done

I'm the apple of my father’s eye

though here I'm stranger fruit

They say that we should leave or die

although they say their Police don't shoot

I am a child alone and scared

though women here have sheltered me

They ...

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Farhad fucked his Brothers wife

and with that act also his life.

He ran at first to Gulbahar

though Gulbahar was not so far...

from where a pledge of bond was made

that honour with their lives be paid,

by those who with their blood were bound

and shared with him dishonoured ground.

Wawrina burdened by her fate

succumbed to rocks at Jahannam's gate.

His ...

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Kransky took one in the head

his smile blown from his face,

the olive grove now green and red

Hail, Mary, full of grace.

The Warrior Poets pitch their pens

from Gijon, west to Alcazar,

convictions morphed from remember when's

"El Corazon's" know who they are

The heart and head are in the fight

torn between what gives them life,

The darkness of the comin...

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England now is stretched too thin

twixt

Birdsong and where throng begin

The thicket and the wooded edge

retreat

as does the honoured pledge

Now where two worlds existed clear

jaded

shades of life appear

Diminished of their rich appeal

devoured

by destructive zeal

Each precious field each sacred stone

buried

like a flesh stripped b...

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My grandfather was a paedophile

but otherwise he was great,

always there to meet me

at the school yard gate.

He often seemed distracted

I never quite new why,

he had a funny look

in his evil little eye.

He killed my cat one Christmas

I never could forgive,

So I vowed myself to vengeance

that he should cease to live.

He wallowed in his cancer

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The Farnborough Airshow is much more than that. It is one of the countries largest Arms Fairs. The deals are made beyond the public gaze, the corporate days outnumber the public days. This poem relates to the masquerade that is The Farnborough Air Show and Murder Incorporated.

Women, Children, Ice cream, Balloons,

excitement, enticement, sonic booms...

Shattered Stree...

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All along the railed paths from Regents Park to Notting Hill,

we feel the gaze of those long passed whose sightless eyes are on us

Still.

Through the Parks of Royal note St James up to Marble Arch,

we tread the lawns as lowly folk and take our pause as Soldiers

March. 

Beneath broad streets unpaved of gold from Camden Town to Bethnal Green,

we transi...

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Caterpillar on a stone beach wall

its concertinaed wavy crawl,

did hypnotised a boy so small

that breeze snuffed out his Mothers call.

Another hand had taken his

as in the jar the insect sits,

two tiny lives broke into bits

as Seagulls screeched the ages tripped.

Caterpillar on a stone beach wall

that never found its wings at all,

but like the child was...

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Words were once no more than shapes

like humans formed from lowly apes,

who dragged their violent knuckles down

yet rose to Coronate a Crown.

Beneath such weight the mind succumbs

with pummelling fists its reason numbed,

from apes to men cruel jungles rise

to build fine cages full of lies...

bejewelled and vast with gold adorned

the "Uneasy Head" lies sev...

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Words fall into dreams like waterfalls

at precipice, where flat earth fools

congregate in village halls

and ponder how to subvert schools

with grappling hooks cross playground walls.

It's just a dream with raining words

no sense required in slumbered peace,

in forests where trees fall unheard

and kingdoms end yet never cease...

a rainbow'd storm of tumbling wo...

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The house stands quiet behind its useless walls,

as if a wedding cake cut but not devoured.

Discarded tools and children’s toys, the crumbs of life.

Inside, a stagnant calm of dust breathes for no-one.

Patches of earth curled with weeds.

The scratchings of beasts consumed by men

score the kill pen floor. Men who ate with fingers

greased with blood and vengeful mind...

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It's a chair,

just a chair

on four legs

standing there.

Facing out,

turned away

been empty now

more than a day.

The cleaner

fumigates all trace,

of he who filled

its cushioned space.

As indentations

slowly fade,

the invoice settled

the debts all paid.

Will the trees outside

miss his stare

when someone else

sits in h...

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These eyes now laid on natures’ wings
have seen the sum of hateful things,
enough that English Winter Skies
as Pale as death cannot disguise

the salty sorrow in a tear,
intrusive nightmares ever near.
An empty voice shocked free from words
which when it speaks is never heard.

Yet by the River from the hide
I saw a bird and almost cried,
as through its feathered curtain shone
a ...

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Chalk and flint the Saintly path

that wends its tranquil peaceful way,

its steepled skies belie the wrath

that split the clouds on darker days.

The refuge of the oaken pew

the coolness of the sacred stone,

that drew the workers, poor and few

to ask they give all they had known.

With barley grain and nurtured lamb

on harvest thanks the faithful came,

as ...

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