AUTUMN WINTER THOUGHTS – QUEENS PARK…

Why do I think so much?
How does my mind make sense
Of the madness inside my head?
The boy who lived on the edge
Never truly fitting in-never wanting to!
Now a mature man who can relate to anyone
Who knows beggars and their dogs….
Judging nobody – for my own house is but ruins
Feeling comfortable with drifters
Those running away from society…

I always knew I was different
Maybe a little odd or even lost
Always looking behind the mirror
In search of my true self
Which still remains just an Autumn shadow
Glimpses of sunshine break through the clouds
Warmth upon my face
It’s going to be a long winter…

Memories of boyhood solitude
Bike rides to the moon
My heart my soul are quiet, tranquil, peaceful, content
I feel like a dry golden crisp leaf
Slowly falling-swaying
Finally settling on the frost-covered grass
I am always dreaming
For my reality is not the truth
But something entirely different…

A friendly robin is following me
I smile as she sings
My new companion-A brief acquaintance
Her secret melodies only understood by nature
A song of Spring’s return
New life fresh hope new beginnings
I pray she makes it through
As she flies away alone
Into the cold misty night
To be alive is truly wonderful
To feel the joy and pain of true love
Perhaps the greatest gift of all…

M C Bolton, October 2022

Photo by Jennifer Cavanagh

The Beast

I await the night
as summer slips away
like an assassin
behind a curtain of darkness
entering Agartha to await its call
Inner earth, where children of the Nephilim dwell…

Our minds being stretched, ploughed, prepared
to receive fallen angels
chained in caves
now unleashed to deceive
bringing peace, prosperity, equality, Utopia
Finally ending the chaos
that imps instigated…

The rusty gates of Hell now opening
subtly unleashing all its fury
persuasive yet without pity or mercy
Its beautiful man of light appears,
Adonis-like perfection
adored, admired, worshipped
Many kneel, bow, pledge their hearts as a tribute…

Others choose to die
making a stand like Leonidas
against overwhelming odds
the few – protectors of truth
exposers of falsehood
holding strong-upon their own Thermopylae
those of us that knew………

M C Bolton Sept/Oct 2020