Class Act

We do our job and then go home

When daily hours complete

Sign out

Clock off

Reverse and then repeat

A cycle we have followed

To earn a weekly wage

We school gate left and started

And continue to old age

To have the same as everyone

Be the daily same

Never our lot question

As we ambition tame 

And same an annual two-week  

We call our summer break

Getting seaside sun burnt

All-inclusive drunk mistake

Then all-inclusive we return

To further life dilate

As womb to wooden box we live

Our predetermined fate

As womb to wooden box we live

Aware we life stagnate

Cold

He got cold 

And caught a cold

But caught the cold when he was old

And lungs already

Fluid filled

And body chilled

His near and dear

Window silled

In picture frames

Possessions willed





They visit every

Now and then

From now to then

The gaps widen

And when they leave

And see you soon

And love him to

The moon

And back

And worry that

He has a cold

That he is cold

Was always cold

They see themselves

When they see him

They claim to be

His antonym

But they know

They’re just like him

Just as cold

Thanks to him  

They pick a hymn

A eulogy

Try to cry

Eyes stay dry

You Asked

What is your death row meal

What would you choose to eat

Something cordon bleu inspired

A three-star Michelin treat

Or a deep-fried home delivery

Before your last heartbeat





Would your life last meal be

Whole lobster crab and prawn

A sea sourced sea food serving served

Before you’re shot at dawn

Or an over you’re soon dead body

Something veggie made of Quorn





And would your final meal be

Accompanied with the wine

You nightly drink too heavily

Every time you dine

As our happy ever after

You constantly malign





Or would you be too scared to eat

Would you food reject

As death draws ever closer

Could you any food accept

Or accept that dwelling on your fate

Eating won’t deflect





So I ask

Why do you ask

As I finish my cottage pie

And then taste a funny taste

And hear you say good…

The Fairy Tale

This was going to be a fairy tale

About a charming prince

And a witch with charming prince phobia

And a potion she’ll make to convince





The prince to stop being charming

And his inside evil set free

She just needs a few fresh ingredients

For her prince anti-charm recipe  





But to comply with new fairy tale guidelines   

The spell shop is healthcare aware

And as staff have received potion training

They know what she hopes to prepare   





So alerted animal welfare 

Who told her she must substitute

Creature based spell making basics

And forget using plucked eye of newt  





And as this tale is for children

Her internet settings deny

Access to unsafe searched websites

She knows could newt eye supply





So by following the list in the guidelines

Of what can and cannot be penned

Here is my fairy story

Once upon a time

The end

Portable Dreams

I don’t want to lose my dreams

So I keep them in a box

I know they will be safe in there

My box has lots of locks





I do this as one once escaped

And my dream I had to chase

But the dream, sadly, got away

A dream I can’t replace





And then last night in a dream

I told them all to flee

To see what they could achieve

When free from custody 





But every dream stayed in the box

So I told them all to – Shoo,

Get out now and find someone

To make you all come true –

We have, they said, it’s you





I will, I thought, when I woke up

With a problem I didn’t foresee

My dreams will stay locked in the box

As I have lost the key