Mars: (Moved from MySpace)

Subject	ALL LYRICS
DateCreated	12/1/2007 4:37:00 AM
PostedDate	11/30/2007 4:32:00 PM
Body	~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MARS PART 1 We packed our bags to go to Mars. We packed them tight and neat. We caught the ship from Liverpool. It was a special treat. We had been good throughout the year, as good as gold you see. We'd potted all the garden plants, and kept the stairwells free. The Captain greeted us with pride outside his gleaming ship. Presenting us his trusty crew who'd help us on this trip. We'd watched the films,  we' d read the scripts, we'd talked of it at school. But nothing could prepare us for that ship from Liverpool. The doors would open with a swish and close with just a sigh. And whereso on the ship you went the crew would be nearby. The crew were gruff and hardy men. We should have found it barmy, why on a ship that steered itself, you needed a small army. We should have been suspicious of the weapons that they carried. But on these inconsistencies our thoughts they never tarried. So as the ship set off that night and we slept in our room. we had no expectation of our close impending doom. They came and got us one by one and marched us to the hold. They chained our feet in manacles. The metal felt so cold. And that was how we got to Mars, chained up within a hive. Not knowing what fate had in store or if we would survive. Oh curse the day we got to Mars, so far away from home. Across the gulfs and voids of space, to destinies unknown. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Migrating poems from Myspace

Subject	ALL LYRICS
DateCreated	12/1/2007 4:37:00 AM
PostedDate	11/30/2007 4:32:00 PM
Body	~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MARS PART 1 We packed our bags to go to Mars. We packed them tight and neat. We caught the ship from Liverpool. It was a special treat. We had been good throughout the year, as good as gold you see. We'd potted all the garden plants, and kept the stairwells free. The Captain greeted us with pride outside his gleaming ship. Presenting us his trusty crew who'd help us on this trip. We'd watched the films,  we' d read the scripts, we'd talked of it at school. But nothing could prepare us for that ship from Liverpool. The doors would open with a swish and close with just a sigh. And whereso on the ship you went the crew would be nearby. The crew were gruff and hardy men. We should have found it barmy, why on a ship that steered itself, you needed a small army. We should have been suspicious of the weapons that they carried. But on these inconsistencies our thoughts they never tarried. So as the ship set off that night and we slept in our room. we had no expectation of our close impending doom. They came and got us one by one and marched us to the hold. They chained our feet in manacles. The metal felt so cold. And that was how we got to Mars, chained up within a hive. Not knowing what fate had in store or if we would survive. Oh curse the day we got to Mars, so far away from home. Across the gulfs and voids of space, to destinies unknown. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ STORM DANCE I find myself within a storm that's raging. The rain is pounding down upon my soul. The wind a gruesome war is waging and on this coil begins to take its toll. To show that to despair I am not ready, I climb a hill amidst the howling storm and there I see a rainbow strong and steady, its power does to peace my heart transform. This rainbow has a very different being, it is not crafted from the sun's own warmth. It takes a while to ken what I am seeing, that from the moon its essence is bought forth. I wonder how the moon can thus configure. Perhaps this is not everything it seems, for on the rainbow now I see a figure a dancing and a twirling through the beams. As it draws near I hear my heart beat pounding. I feel the music through the dampenned soil. It starts off faint but then becomes resounding, as if the very ground's about to boil. And suddenly she's standing there before me bedecked in all the colours of that bow. She smiles and takes my hand quite softly and dancing through the storm we start to go. We tango through the forest, do a jig upon the dale. We breakdance in the bracken and we shimmy in the vale. We jive under the starlight, and through the streams we bop and though the storm still rages, the dance we do not stop. But now the moon lies still on the horizon. The rainbow though still grand is growing dim. I now that on the time she has her eyes on and soon she must go back to join her kin. She takes my hand and squeezes it quite gently. I try to thank but words are not enough and though her exit's looming imminently we smile for things are no longer as rough. And all around me now there is a calmness. An eye amidst the everlasting storm. This eye will give me strength that I will harness so that my dreams of peace will start to form. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PERCEPTIONS A happy carefree youth. He is liked for who he is, and can hold his head up high He feels a certain dignity, just like anyone should. They treat him with respect. It is different in the whorehouse. They do not see a man. just someone to be pitied. He is made to feel ashamed, No one meets his eyes, Its as if he isnt there. Heading for the street, he gets into his wheelchair. The truth is read backwards. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>_._<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< The truth is read backwards. He gets into his wheelchair, heading for the street, its as if he isnt there. No one meets his eyes. He is made to feel ashamed, just someone to be pitied. They do not see a man. It is different in the whorehouse. They treat him with respect, just like anyone should. He feels a certain dignity, and can hold his head up high. He is liked for who he is, A happy carefree youth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MARS PART 2 will appear here

Just a Doctor

This was a poem I wrote as part of National Poetry Writing Month in April. (http://athspoemaday.blogspot.com/)  I thought it would fit nicely in this blog too. It deals with just one aspect of the proposed changes to the NHS.

Day 17 - Just a Doctor

The dusty street, the open train, the much frequented highway,
a mountain trail, a ferry boat , an inner city byway.
These he had taken, by and large, to reach this destination,
but now he faced the daunting task of filling registration,
in which he has to prove his admin skills for new positions.

What should he put for marketing, or double-paged accounting?
He'd just got on with his own job, left others to the counting.
He'd done it well or so he thought, saved many a thread-hung life.
He had a calming presence and was steady with a knife.
They didn't seem to care 'bout this, they wanted core ambitions.

Around the world he'd travelled, lending care where it was needed.
In times of epidemic, his advice was often heeded.
But this no longer mattered within England so it seems,
where doctors had to deal with daily management of teams.
He wanted yet, to come back home, grown tired so of missions.

His mind balked at the prospect of a quarterly report,
and handling area boundary changes in the district court.
Why should a surgeon trained for years, do something else completely,
when those who've qualified in sums, or admin do it neatly?
There doesn't seem much logic in this hindrance to physicians.

He put his pen down, rubbed his eyes, and thought about the future.
How now could be the time to settle down and maybe tutor.
But he's a doctor dammit, and there's many sick to see,
and all he really wants to do is practise surgery.
I guess he'll have to do it with extraneous conditions.

Re Demption Song

Rewrote the lyrics to this classic song by Bob Marley .  Almost felt sacriligious at the time but was compelled to let out my thoughts on the coalition policies. This was back on 25th January - and since then a lot of the proposals mentioned have been shelved.




Oh Cameron yes he rob us,
Sold Woods to the plunderers.
Minutes after he tooks funds
from the universitys' purse.

...And the NHS was made wrong,
by the hand of them old tory.
We failing this generation,
triumphantly.

Won't you help to save,
this land from tories.
Cos all they do is bad,
and lasts too long.

Yes all they do is bad
and the damage is long.

Emancipate UK from tory policy,
from their unfair, twisted lies.
Have no truck with their inequality,
cos they'll get to you in time.

How long shall they reap the profits
while so many lose their jobs?
They say its just to clear the debt,
but thats just to fob us off.

Wont you help to rid,
this land of tories.
Cos all they do is bad,
and lasts too long.

And all we ever had,
it will be gone.

And apologies to Bob,
for spoiling this song,
this song of freedom.
But Cameron made me mad,
and should be gone.

On Libya

Oh just look! The papers say,
David Cameron leads the way,
in heading to the Middle East
to try and quell that fearsome beast.

But

what is it he's actually doing?
Who on earth could he be wooing?
And what ends is he pursuing?
While the fighting still is brewing?

Off he trots to pave the way
for the weapons men who pay,
to have their arms contracts renewed.
They are nothing if not shrewd.

So what message is he showing?
While atrocities are growing,
and a bloody wind is blowing,
and the people's blood is flowing,

dying from the tanks and bombers
as the arms trade pursues commerce.
For these choppers and these guns
are brought in from other lands.

British arms firms had their hand in
planes, that soldiers d'rather land in
other realms, than bomb those standing
in the squares for change demanding.

Not forgetting France and Russia,
and the others who sell Libya
all the weapons that it needs
to kill its people in the streets.

Now  the Colonel has grown madder,
and the genocide grows sadder.
Paths to peace are looking harder.
Their's the bloodiest intifada.

But the arms firms have no let up
in protecting contracts set up
when dictators ruled the day.
Turning blind eyes once they pay.

I just hope the tide is turning,
and the city soon stops burning.
But Gaddafi isnt learning.
Freedom is what they are yearning.


Amnesty: Stop global arms sales to Libya
Russian arms transfers to North Africa: Fuelling an arms race?
Daily Mail: It is not wrong to sell arms, says David Cameron as he defends sale of weapons to Middle East

Revolutionary Wave

A wind of change is blowing through the desert streets,
and with it many voices can be heard,
but many voices also have been silenced,
gun-downed in those self same squares where once they shopped for ornaments or fruit,
by those whose job was, apparently, to protect them.

In nearby alleys, where moonlit lovers once strolled,
lie bloody injured, tended for by strangers and friends.
Is blood the only currency for change?
Is that the only way to turn a system,
when too much power is focused in one place?

How longsome have these voices been unheard?
That speak up now amidst the sound of a dozen civil wars?
What little we knew of the anger against their own leaders?
Presidents that pay with people's lives to cling to power.
That bring forth the sons and daughters as soldiers,
to look down the barrel of a gun at their sisters and uncles and mothers and brothers.

What did we know a month ago of the fuel that feeds this flame?
of the people's righteous ire? The injustice each one felt?
The Teacher, the Lawyer, the Grocer, the Nurse.
What was their tale, their own personal story?
That launched them in their millions onto the streets.
United by the internet with a half a billion other voices,
to ride the revolutionary wave.

And where to, will this flame burn, as burn it must?
How long and how intense, and to what end?
We have no thought of what will follow after,
for better or for worse no one can say.
I just hope that transition is a short one,
and few let be the lives that will be lost.
20th Feb 2011