Scream

A scream; A flow

Of onlookers pours itself,

Like a tidal current

Surging forwards; Tugging

At the roots of bystanders.

Waves with lapping hands

Compel others into the flood,

Condensing individuals

Into a crowd.

Clouds of sirens

Burst like thunderclaps.

And the watchers

Drizzle away in a rain,

Of satisfied curiosity.

Happiness

It's proved that money can't buy you
Happiness it seems
But lack of money holds you back
From fulfilling all your dreams

For a decent education
A home without damp or mould
Away from dead end jobs in which
Defeat can take a hold

So let's all demand a wage that pays
At least the most important bills
So we have a chance to save
And put an end to unhappy ills

http://www.pnas.org/content/107/38/16489.full

Age

It's just a number
That counts the seasons
But still we find
There are many reasons
To feel afraid
Of our rising age
Panic, anger
Regret and rage.

Forgetting that wisdom
Often increases
While fear of ourselves
Often decreases
And we need to learn
That loving and giving
Should be our only worry
As we go on living.

Summers

He will be forever synonymous

With my summer holidays.

After lie-ins and late breakfasts,

I would watch the sun lazily

Burn off the morning's dewy chill.

The hands on the clock 

Would tick by languidly,

Increasing the anticipation.

As eleven approached, the scent

Of my brewed coffee wafted hazily,

And crumbs of chocolate digestives

Would scatter in laconic fashion

Upon my plate.

And then the music that lifts;

The soul, the portal, the limbo,

Between before and after.

Followed by the voice that oozed

Summers and relaxation and temperament.

Setting the pace for the day's play

Of calming Cricket.

Flavours

We limit our flavours in adulthood
To that of a Cuban ice-cream parlour.
The flavours of our youth sit
Permanently under frosted windows;
Memories in deep freeze.
The lemon of bitter disappointment,
And the pink strawberry sweetness
Of a stolen kiss.
Darker desires kindle
In the fire of orange and liquorice.
While friendship and fun tingle
In Rum & Raisin,
In Raspberry Ripple.
And with green mint freshness of growing up
Having melted on the tongue,
All that remains is the choc-chip
Of bittersweet experience.

Sucked

Amidst the mad panic
As if the station
Is about to explode
They are sucked into the carriage

The train appears to offer
Their last hope of salvation
As its open doors
Hoover up the platform

And as it lurches off
With a smoker's cough rattle
All that remains is dust
And the patient

Selfish

So it seems that wealth creation

Is not about greed

But an overwhelming desire

A need

To show love and protection

To our family

Ensuring that they are safe

Living happily

And so saying

It implies a lot

That if you don’t desire wealth

You don’t give a jot

About your children’s lives

Or dreams

Selfish in poverty

Or so it seems