death

I am not against war. Sometimes whether we want it or not, war must be undertaken. However, I am against politicians and their bad decisions when it comes to deciding to go to war or to send off troops for token good causes.

The inspiration for the following comes from a number of things, the rising death toll of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, the black and white pictures of contorted corpses from World War 1 and World War 2 and photos from an article of a pregnant American woman standing vigil with marines over the coffin of her dead husband.

In days gone English Kings went to war and stood on the field. It is about time our policitans and Prime Minister showed they to are prepared to put their own life in the balance on the front line for the cause they are so keen to blabber with indifference.

Three million ways to die and none of them were in stock. Death sighed. Suppliers were all the same. If it wasn’t in stock it was on order, if it wasn’t on order it had been discontinued, if it was discontinued it was in the sale and if it wasn’t on sale, they had sold the last one to the guy who came in five minutes before you.

Pity they had some classics. Death by a roller-skating hamster and Death by rabid chiwawa, both top sellers but the best by far, Death by a slipped finger when picking the nose.

Quite a few years ago I came close to dying. I had eaten a piece of toffee, which was probably bigger than I thought at the time, swallowed and somehow something went wrong and it didn't get very far before capping my air supply off completely.

It is a strange experience. You spend your whole life breathing without thinking much of it and then suddenly, nothing.

There is for a brief second of disbelief, which brings a non logical moment of stupidly. I tried to breathe through my mouth as well as my nose. Nothing.

Then you realise you are against the clock.

My father often says, "People don't accept death today" . To accept death is to accept life

Thinking on this I have attempted to write something I have tried to do before without success.

It is a piece inspired by the quote, my father and the day yet to come.

Grandeur

No repetition raised on irritation
Nor mythering lost between the walls.

Here, photos have become Today
tomorrow, the restless butterfly in the eye

Greatness no longer has a delicate beauty
only steel on stone

Without notation.

”Well if you want to fall over and break your neck that’s up to you but don’t say I didn’t tell you sonny!”, said the old man waving a crooked finger.

Death glanced down mystified. Shoes? Death raised a head to catch the old man escaping in his immobility scooter.

The old man pushed it to ten miles and hour, he could almost feel the wind around his ears and in his eyebrows, “ You won’t get me!”, he screamed.

“Next left”, Death said in his ear.

Defiantly the old man took the next right, straight into an oncoming lorry.

Death looked cool even if Death did say so himself. The new shroud was funky. Funeral black with midnight stitching so fine it was almost invisible. This was the business.

Death picked up the new “titanium diamond” scythe forged by the legendry Bob the Blacksmith himself. Thank God for plastic, thought Death, and a good job, it was going to take sometime to pay off but it was worth it. Death grinned. It was the best scythe ever.

Time to go. Death made one last check in the mirror. The ladies were going to be knocked dead tonight thought Death.

I have written some bullet poems in my time and written about subjects, which have been painful but I have never (and never will) shy away from doing so. Needless to say, this is one of the hardest things I have ever penned.

In my youth I was a different person and not for the best. One thing we can never do is wind back time but perhaps reflect and come to peace with missed opportunities. This is a deeply personal poem and is many years overdue.

It was my Dad's birthday yesterday. Birthdays never do mean a lot to me; a legacy given to me by my mother. However, it is a reminder that like an engine, we all have only so far to run.

Dad in recent years has had his birthdays in random orders, at 65 he was 50, 70 he was 60 and at time hes has been 40 at varies ages. I always thought this was an old folks view point since the end of the road is something which becomes realistic on a day by day basis more so than when you are young.

Death smiled. It was the sort of smile, which although well intended looked like the grin of an angry bulldog about to eat an unwary postman.

“Hello”, said Death charmingly as he could.

Emily froze before the high-pitched scream belted out her mouth.

Death winched, she sounded just like Mable, the banshee Death had once dated until she got the hump with Death wearing his Gucci ear mufflers all the time.

This was the problem with human women marked Death, they got so excited they died on the spot. Maybe the Troll outfit wasn’t such a good idea after all.

We take a lot of things for granted in our day to day lives without much thought. Perhaps we are too preoccupied livng our lives or we avoid facing the fact that one day we will loose those we love.

The following poem was influenced by the day, as silly as it sounds, I realised my father was walking towards the end of his life. When a number became a count down on a clock I couldn't ignore anymore.