A Lazy Sunday Afternoon

The grass ripples like the sea

And shines in the afternoon sun.

Children cackle

Mothers squawks

Dogs bark

And dad sleep without peace

A little football game

Acts as a sound track

Some laughed

And the white horse runs

From the fingers of a group of sticky kids.

Uncle Fred takes Mary

For her first bicycle lesson

Granddad shows little Timmy

How to fly his kite

Missing the trees and aircraft.

Mum thinks of tea

What would they like?

Ted and Ethel emerge

Hand in hand

The long lost lovers return

from a snog in the bush.

Mother rises from her dream of tea

And grunts a scowling glance at

Innocent little Ethel

Grandma smiles with a twinkle

In her eye

She still remembers the old

Sunday romps.

Dad wakes and demands some tea

So they all trample into

His luxurious 1947 car

Mother positioned between

Ethel and Ted

And off they move

From Wimbledon Common.

American Justice

A murder most foul

Seen through media money

And corporate check books

Innocence paid by the Dollar

American Justice

Shot on a street corner

In the chic part of town

But no bodies son, no state reward

A killer on the run

American Justice

A body under the stairs

A script for movie of the week

The last great pageant

While the parents perform silence

American Justice

Bright lights, showgirls and Rappers

Hotel Brawls and slot machines

Drive by shootings while the CD plays

Drug money records

American Justice

Rapid white water rides

Miss usage of privilege and pleasure

Close friends suicide murder

A crack in the seal of office

American Justice

When the color that matters

Is the color of your money

Final justice is the count

Of cocaine stained greenbacks

America - No Justice

A Forgotten Image

Peering through the threadbare curtains,

Down the creaking deep stairway,

The Sun

Highlighted the great master,

As it stood angulated upon the floor.

Showing signs of crumbling age,

Forgotten existence,

The dust,

Embedded in each brush mark,

Hid the painter's image.

It lay like sleeping beauty,

Waiting to be kissed,

By the feathers of a duster,

New light,

Artificially created, will shine upon it,

And the forgotten image reinstated.

They Call it Democracy

They barricaded the street in,

They moved the machine gun up front,

They were ready in alleyways

Mortars in hand,

And bought a few aircraft and hired a band.

After the fourth day,

And no one had come,

They became anxious and went looking for fun,

They stormed at the City Hall to find it closed,

And finished at the photographers a picture to be posed.

And on the tenth day,

The rent man came to call,

They mowed him down with machine gun fire,

And buried him at St. Paul.

It wasn't until the twelfth day,

That anyone had heard,

The people hand uprisen and freedom been declared.