Riding the dragon

I may work this poem about coming off hard drugs into a song. It's not autobiographical, however I'm pretty sure allot of us have been affected in one way or another by addictition, all be it a friend or loved one.

Riding the dragon

You don’t need that to get by
Do you have to get so damn high?
You shut me out
I scream and shout
You ride the dragon flying high

Steel railings round your heart
Me one side keeping us apart
You slam the gate
I want to hate
Scratch your arm a muddy dart;

You don’t need that to get by
Do you have to get so damn high?
Gave your loved ones a bag of tears
Gave your loved ones a bag of despair

You’ve opened all the rotten the doors
Lain on all the piss stained floors
You run the line
Things ain’t fine
Love’s run raw, hard to stay yours

Crazy trips you’re up like a Kite
Take cold turkey it’s time to fight
You cry for help
I hear your cry
Your soul is safe wrapped up tight.

No more Lady Caine or smoking dope
Rehabs hotel a holiday from hell
No more Lady Caine or smoking dope
Anxiety and pain glimmers of hope.

©Julian Clarke 2017

The Good Ole Days?

Time creeps up on us the older we grow

Bent and wizened like an ancient oak tree,

Grasping the future all those years ago

The golden ole days seem the place to be.

           

A song on the radio from yesteryear

Long summer days drenched in the sun,

Wistful memories and lives without fear

A night out with friends having so much fun.

            Now

What if the past was turned upside down

What if the future was flipped all around?

Would we still yearn for the good ole days

And not look back in a rose tinted haze.

            So

How would we welcome the oncoming past?

            With

Imminent conflicts, other people’s wars

A time long before the smart mobile phone,

No Wi Fi or texting so how would we cope

No long haul travel holidaying at home.

            And

The 1970’s a decade of strikes

Fuelling an era of dissent,

Skyward inflation with many price hikes

Bitter was the winter of discontent.

            But

What if we enjoyed the here and now?

What if looked on with a little less haste,

What if we’re more forgiving to others?

Live for the moment in a calmer place. 

© Copyright Julian Clarke 2016

Journal's Entry

Inside a café, from a worn torn place:

Balanced on upturned palm and held high one has to sigh in amazement that even in these anguished times you manage to glide like a ballerina ‘tween your chipped tile topped tables. Perhaps to an imaginary adagio where the tempos set and with lyricism your hips dip to your own metronomes click with not a drop spilt from the glasses full of illusion, using the term illusion lightly as by contrast in distrustful times can so often bring euphoric disillusion. 

To understand the hardship of life here is hard. And so to respectfully observe your selfless poetical grace, your smile and general bonne-amie of which you reserve for all to see; when deep within, like all in this nerve twisting place you must feel that tonight, tomorrow may never come. But to digress and to confess it’s easy to succumb to terrifying thoughts, however, this evening outside the café the sound of the guns have stopped, and since daybreak no bombs have dropped, for now, at least…here’s hoping tonight we can rest tired eyes, hopefully sleep in peace.

© Julian Clarke 2016

Flloyd

Tugging on a

memory of hope

living a lie smoking

too much dope

became paranoid

gave it a name

called it Flloyd.

Flloyd was alive

out to get me said he

worked for M.I. 5;

in my solitary cell

called it despair

no one comes

no one cares;

memories
 of hope

fade bit by bit

in a sneering way
I heard him say

Just get over it.

Hey Flloyd

I’m not letting

you out to play

but I roll a spliff

pull some tokes

Flloyd knocks on

the door of my mind

giggle and laugh right

in his face....yo, Flloyd

try and be nice today.

© Julian Clarke 2016

Blessings

Tis a

blessing

to know ones

own limitations;

for may we then show 

due tolerance towards

Others shortcomings.

Crises

Shocking to think in our advanced world that this is allowed to continue.

In 

abject

 poverty

women trudge

earthenware pots

balanced on heads

fetching water

not fit for

consumption

many dying of

starvation.

Violent conflicts

guns rat tat tattle

follow the red dot

see where it stops

eye sight  down

the rifle barrel,

a young girl

takes aim,

with blood,

her hands

are stained.

© Julian Clarke 2016

Happy Days

Granparents have a natural flair for creating family gatherings that become beautiful memories to reflect upon years later.

Happy Days

Summers breeze in lush fluttering leaves,

homemade lemonade, strawberry ice cream;

dappled shade under fruiting cherry trees:

still there, your old rickety rocking chair

and that aged, month eaten straw boater hat,

memories spill of mouth watering fare:

squeals of laughter riding the garden gate 

dip in, dip out of a cold lawn sprinkler;
fine innocence of a summer's portrait.

© Julian Clarke 2016

Should you have a minute to spare you are more than welcome to have a look around, maybe leave a comment, or want to get in touch please feel free to do so.

Breath

The best gift ever, for everyone; for without it where would we be.

Breath

Breath is our being, being is beautiful,

being with you is as beautiful

as breath itself;

take nothing for granted

appreciate the love our breath gives.

© Julian Clarke 2016

Ebbing Away

David, what is that ring ringing?

it’s your phone Gran,

oh . . . hello, hello . . . no one there,

no Gran, that’s the t.v control;

yes my fetch my coat it’s rather cold,

Gran, I said, it’s  . . .

my dear now please don’t interrupt,

and what is that incessant ringing?

*

Aggressive,

no matron, I don’t understand

she’s always so caring and kind

with such a sharp and witty mind.

*

Hello Gran, how are you today?

do I know you?

oh Gran, it’s me, come on, you know; 

you run along and get my tea.

it’s me, David;

I want some of those nice biscuits too;

Stupid boy, David is long dead.

Now sad despair etched his heart with dread.

Stillness

Just a thought for the day as the crazyness carries on around us in a world full of delusion.

Stillness

Why chase the stillness
when the feral mind runs wild;
inhale, accept, exhale, be free
body still, body quiet:

take these precious moments
for they're yours
for you alone,
relax in the stillness of being.
​