School Holidays, Lewes (for Indiana)

I will miss walking around the Pell’s pond

as the sun sets slowly over the downs

the friendly smiling faces as we walk around town

where we can just look in the shops

without being followed around

buying biscuits- crisps as we head back to our hotel

 

I’ll miss showing you those places where I used to play

when I was young and happy – just an innocent boy

sticks or twigs were our guns, a pistol or sword

our days were long, we’d never get bored

I want you to see how your life can be

easy living- laid back feeling, so free

we didn’t have much, we were comfortably poor

Just had enough didn’t want more…

 

So, my little one I’m glad I showed you around

this artisan place where we’ve always rebelled

on bonfire nights you’d think you’re in Hell!

I’m getting older I know you can tell

the hills feel steeper-I now seem to walk slow

but’s been a real joy just watching you grow

for surely, I Love you so much

much more than you’ll ever know…….

 

©M C Bolton July 2020, @MarkCBolton1

 

Lewes

Creatio Ex Nihilo

I float over the dark waters

God has not yet uttered the words of creation

there is no darkness or light

time or dimension

 

I don’t exist-for I am already here!

Amongst beings beyond imagination

feeling nothing or seeing…

Outside eternities concept

he speaketh light into existence

 

A sound so terrifying it emulsifies nothing into matter

I enter a tunnel spinning naked

passing trees, plants, creatures

all without fear or impurity

perfection-landing in paradise

walking upon dew-covered grass

underneath the most turquoise of skies

 

warm-clean air filling my lungs

knowledge flooding my mind

along with the understanding of Love…

 

This is it the beginning-the first day

there is no death or hatred-lust or greed sickness or sorrow…

No past, no pain, only tomorrow……..

 

©M C Bolton July 2020, @MarkCBolton1

below by @tomhcharles

 

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I Wish

I wish I was 15 again

with my flares, long hair

No cares just free

playing with the American kids in the fields

loving their hippie style

the girls were so cool

my sister climbing out her bedroom window

to smoke grass with her boyfriend

she was so pretty, so crazy!

 

I would ride my chopper bike for miles

deep into the country underneath such blue skies

while US fighter bombers flew overhead

pretending I was in Vietnam

thought I was John Wayne

but I was just me – trying to find a reason

I had so many dreams

so much hope that I would find the right path

 

Dancing with girls at school discos

the smell of Brut and mothballs

Playing in goal for the school team

they say keepers are mad!

listening to Neil Young

wishing I was him

boasting about football match violence on Saturdays

when really, I ran away

Especially against Spurs!

 

Drinking in the local pubs

Dad taking 12 strangers out to dinner!

Looking at my brother – he got all the girls

Mum dressed up tonight like Elizabeth Taylor!

 

It’s 1974 all my problems are way ahead of me

just to go back for one night

to see Michael Kelly

Who said today we’re all young Boys

one day we will all be old men!

Oh! How right he was…

 

Sam who always wore his vest over his orange nylon shirt…

we all Loved Amanda Tombs

kissing our pillows each night

those days are no more

yet they remain forever in my heart

like an eternal pearl trapped inside an oyster

in the depths of the deepest sea

 

M C Bolton June 2020

@MarkCBolton1

 

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The Ballad of Elijah Scruggs, Part 1: PURGATORY

A cowboy sporting a stetson

Said “Pilgrim, you just passing through?

Now you find yourself here my friend

what is it you plan to do?”

 

“I’m not sure” I replied

“there’s a lot I don’t understand,

so I thought I’d pay a visit,

find out-what truly makes a man!”

 

“Sure” smiled the stranger

“Just have a look around

You’ll find many ghosts from your past

residing in this town…

 

“Some folks that have hurt you

others you’ve caused pain!

If you had your time again

things would be the same”

 

“Really!” I retorted, “That’s disappointingly lame…”

“You see son you’re not at the Gates of Hell

nor in Paradise…

But if you’ve time to listen?

I’ll give some good advice

To stop you from growing bitter as you hit old age

free from hate and anger that keeps you living in a cage!

 

“The secret, just show mercy

infinite Love, forgiveness, grace

Never ever bare a grudge

Learn to turn the page…

For what is truly in your heart

will show upon your face…”

 

“Thank you, Sir” I nodded

“Those words have reached my soul

like seeds that I will nurture

whose fruit will make me whole…”

With those words, I left him

began my journey home….

 

M C Bolton May 2020

@MarkCBolton1

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Lockdown Lamentations

I cannot describe my feelings and emotions anymore

constantly twisting turning, a psychedelic Rubiks cube

only balanced when my daughter calls me

being a father, a dad pulls me back into the battle – into line

Something real to cling to

Giving me hope, a reason to keep going…

Not that I just live for my children

but they say they’re the last faces you see before you die!

 

Wandering alone through this dry arid wasteland

A home fit only for demons and jackals

I feel as if I am being prepared for eternity

the poetry has gone from my soul

this spiritual nomad who may be insane

Will I ever write verse again?

Maybe the gift has left me?

Blown away like tumbleweed…

‘Dust in the Wind’ by Kansas a fitting soundtrack to this movie

in which I play the lead…

 

Boxed in, unable to manoeuvre or gain an advantage

Caged like a dancing bear…

Snatching precious moments with Indiana*…

Looking in the mirror – I’m getting a tan!

Yet this is no holiday…

 

Do I truly know myself?

Or am I deluded? No! Not me, NEVER!

I’ve done too much work on myself!

But the doubts creep in like bog mist.

Passions burn inside-Tormenting-Tempting-Dividing

Am I Going mad?

Where’s my faith? Where’s my God in this?

Has it all been for nothing?

Through this meltdown eventually, I find peace

Re-booting my being-settling my Spirit once more

I love my life with all its problems-idiosyncrasies

I truly love my children – Yeah, you know what?

It’s going to be alright, everything’s going to be alright……………..

 

M C Bolton April 2020

 

* Indiana is my youngest child, aged 14

@MarkCBolton1 @UrbanDandyLDN

 

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by TC

 

Protego (a Poem for Easter)

Every night you hold me in your arms

my head at rest against your heart…

Darkness dutifully invading

daylight gently retreating…

 

I feel my breath leave my body

like a ghost passing through a wall…

So soft your wings-smoothed by eternity’s tide…

Drifting slowly-peacefully into deep sleep

floating away upon love’s rainbow sea…

 

To awake alone-blessed with another day

starting anew this journey of life

with hopeful expectation

of your unseen entrance,

my silent protector…

 

Seeing only your delicate footprints

on past times’ sand…

Forever watching over me

my comings-my goings

in good times-in bad!

 

As to all mankind, that day will come

when I will grasp your hand

entering that tunnel of light

travelling to my Heavenly home

into the arms of my God

saved by the lambs’ precious blood

to be forever with you, my Angel………………

 

M C Bolton, March/April 2020

@MarkCBolton1

 

 

Protego
Photo: ‘Blossom on the walk today’ – Diana Charles

Death’s Merry Dance

(Inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s film The Seventh Seal)

 

I see dystopia unfolding

like a map being unfurled in a storm

In hysteria-panic a new chaotic world emerging

the big bang in reverse…

 

Unlike the fall of Saigon

no choppers overhead

ferrying the defeated to board ships of hope…!

 

I’m left writing futile words

trying to make sense of it…

Tavener’s song for Athene

a fitting soundtrack, my own lament…

 

Trapped inside my crazy head

yet somehow loving the madness

for this asylum belongs to me

 

finally finding my purpose

sitting amongst the insane

playing never-ending games of chequers…

Sanctuary! Sanctuary! They cry…

 

Bells cease ringing – clocks backward spinning

naked bodies smeared with wode

run crazed into battle

fighting the Legion of the damned

whom they will slaughter without pity

for all showed themselves heartless…

 

Butchered entrails worn like scarves

necklaces of ears

dangle between Amazon women’s breasts

strong – proud – justified

For it is all now over

pretence finally vanquished

the Truth left hanging

haunting, blowing in the wind…

 

Mankind returning to live inside spiritual caves

to be slowly fossilised like their endless dreams…

Only the innocent left, stirring the broth of lost souls

forever trapped in this cauldron of death…

 

I, like Colonel Kurtz, shuffle into the darkness

to quietly await my assassin…

Knowing I will be the least in the Kingdom of Heaven 

but surely the most grateful………….

 

 

 

M C Bolton,  March 2020

@MarkCBolton1 @UrbanDandyLDN

 

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Photo from Brittanica.com

Nomad

It’s in the wilderness

I find true inspiration

that internal dry place

where I look deep into the soul

 

A confrontation with my true self

with all its peculiarities, insecurities

anxiety, stress – deluded dreams!

Oh! How I wear that cloak so easily

like taking the king’s shilling

to fight wars of attrition against my subconscious

 

Once born truly rounded

until the jig-saw of life

cut deep into my being

manufacturing another puzzle piece

creating my fruitless quest to fit in…

 

A spiritual lobotomy

those missing parts – lost – forever gone

Never again can I be whole

 

Learning to live with those internal apmutations

suicidal fears – toying – tormenting

not that I ever would

just my free will says I could…

 

Inner voices – choices

feel like the Joker

yet nobody laughs…

I’ve spied the promised land

like Moses it will elude me

never to cross the Jordan River

the land of milk and honey

beyond my reach

my time is nearly done

was it ever real

or existing only in my dreams…

 

©M.C. Bolton

@MarkCBolton1

 

Apocalypse 1

I knelt in front of heavenly beings

creatures of unimaginable form

striking fear-terror deep into the hearts of men

destroying without mercy or pity

sending souls to that dark place

without light – devoid of love

to be eternally damned

outside of this dimension

where there is no tomorrow

just the constant now of torment

screaming tears wailing

overture to the lost…

 

Those who refused God’s hand of grace

wallowing in this world’s pit of sorrow-lies-falsehood…

who through their own self-righteousness-intellect

needed not a saviour…

 

Ridiculing the simple-hearted

who believed in salvation

through the cross…

that followed not political ideology

or utopian dreams

knowing their own hearts

were beyond cure…

 

Never judging or virtue signalling

impelled to show kindness to all…

to be hated by the masses

who despised their old-fashioned ways…

lunatics-fools-truth seekers…

spiritual lepers clothed in rags

exchanged for robes of righteousness

through the blood of the lamb

the son of God

who rides a pale horse

bringing death and judgement

to all nations…..

 

© M.C.Bolton January 2020

@markcbolton1

 

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picture from here