SEALION

Codename - Sealion

Authority - Executive order 16

Operation- The German invasion of England

Outcome- The Battle of Britain

On the day they spat their fire
Full of heart, courage and ire,
It was an Austrians burning desire
To build an English funeral pyre.

We didn't buckle under Hitlers game
As we English don't play the same,
Poles, Czechs and Canadians fame
Aided the British hurricane.

The advance halted in the sky
Goering told an awful lie,
His pilots questioned the reason why
The few kept coming and wouldn't die.

The war eventually won because of the few
We owe so much to the fighters crew,
'Winnie' stirred the patriotic brew
When the heroic Spitfires roared into view.

Phil Hall  July 2013.

THE STRANGER INSIDE ME

My eyes see the world
But who is it looking?
My ears hear the voices
Is it I that's listening?
My voice issues a sound
Though I can't claim it's mine.

Is it the stranger inside me?

Sometimes I love
Sometimes I hate,
I want to help
Though I also hinder
And annoy with a joy.
Who is the real me?

A stranger is inside me.

I have smiled at times
Also spat in your face,
I cannot believe I'd do that
Because I have a faith
Though I doubt him often.

There lurks a stranger inside me.

I am in love
Though I also lust,
I am full of passion
But, also naked aggression
There's a part of me I don't like.

The stranger inside is stirring.

My mind feels sharp
Although my body is tired,
For every time I help
I want to hurt more
I may lose my control.

The stranger may soon take over.

Phil Hall  July 2013

LIFES PATH

I walk alone
A long and lonely path,
Through a valley
Of troubled rain.

The struggle of laboured feet
Through leaves of leather
And a life of clinging mud.
Each footstep a nightmare,
Horrors on every corner.

But, this is my life
Echoed in the halls of everyman,
It's a life I choose to lead.

There is a sun behind the clouds
The parallel beacon
To my clouded darkness.
Mountains remain unscaled,
The river of life uncrossed,
A world  discovered
Yet uncharted,
My map is my destiny
Where the pure water flows.

Each day
The water of life evaporates
To drain my days away.

Phil Hall  July 2013.

THE REASON TO BE HERE

The soothing endless sky
Eyes reaching to the heavens,
With gilded frontier
A long lost horizon.
Where truth is held in judgement
Ones life tips in its imbalance,
When creator takes receipt
The created in his hand.

When one stands before an endless night
This is the reason to be here.

Long ago, shadows set into the fabric of your soul,
Moulded in perfection,
Chipped and scored through time
Our body the vessel for the water of life.

We've all drank from its well
We've tasted the pleasure of the flesh,
To stand before him, the sky opens over us
Your eternal flame flickers in its dying dance.

The day grows cold
Your ship of life is guided by the wind,
The the sun will lead you
The reason to be here.

Phil Hall July 2013

TREE OF WORDS

A mind full of metaphorical foliage
Branches laden heavy with letters,
Tangled in a miscreant mind
Ready to disperse amongst my betters.

Brain scraping the cosmos afar
Sat under this wintry leaden cloud,
So much jumbled in the fog
A mind numb within enveloping shroud.

The bell for sanity tolls
The resonant notes from decadent clapper,
This piece, just a slice of thickened memory
My naked mind running free from its physical wrapper.

How you suck on such juice of my thoughts
Only you can decide,
I just write, my weary feet have trodden this earth
For too long part of the decaying ride.

Begone sir, don't look back
There is a crimson tide
A baying pack,
After blood
After hope,
Clinging to my words.........
Gone, like the tolling bell
An echo of a distant, discordant word.

Phil Hall  July  2013

ALL ABOUT TAKE

It's all about take
And photos of kittens in a glass,
Wallowing in self styled misery
Or the pursuit of laboured love.
The baring of naked flesh
Tattooed or ripped torso,
Then the cheap desktop calendar quote
That should gather the plus.

Me me me me me.

Where is the real soul?
It is all just poetic soundbyte.
So, I'll laugh from the sidelines
No part of standard guidelines
Souls sold
For fools gold.
It's the trend of nowadays
Full of self and throwaways,

Although it seems like Christmas
Something is wanted in return,
What good is the cake
With only crumbs on offer?
The reason for my leaving
Is the treason of my giving,

Just poetic soundbyte

Me me me me me.

It's all about take

This is my final say
Now it's time to slip away.

Phil Hall  July  2013

LIQUID SUNSHINE

LIQUID SUNSHINE

The warming glow of cane

Slides easily over the ice,

Whilst we’re serenaded

 By whistling frogs

Proclaiming their love,

Or their territory

High in the swaying palms.

 The ivory slams down hard

 On the weathered mahogany table,

Professional gaze, level and yet amused

Scans the dominoes lay exposed

The liquid sunshine, smooth and silken

Caresses the senses

As I produce the double six.

The Caribbean Sea laps the shore

With an audible sigh,

Bad move

Teeth sucking and cussing

And the winning ivory shatters the peace.

White man sipping good rum

But the black man wins again,

Nothing is better

Good friends

Good food,

Total relaxation

On this beautiful Isle.

The heady mix of rum

With soft soca wafting in the wind,

The early hours

Of a Caribbean day

Spicy flying fish cutters

Washed down with an ice cold beer,

Heaven has touched the land.

The mind seduced

 By the cream of the Sugar cane,

The golden, liquid sunshine

Whether masked in coke

Or neat in the crystal goblet

Is the essence of a wonderful night.

One day I’ll return

To my friends

The taxi drivers,

Slamming the dominoes

Sipping the good old rum

At Accra beach

Barbados

Heaven on earth.

Phil Hall  July 2013

MANHATTAN PROJECT

MANHATTAN PROJECT

It was just like any other day

The sun shone, kids playing,

The world was at war.

But on this day

The 6^th August 1945

Enola’s little boy wouldn’t be coming home.

She dropped him off

Not from the car, but from a B-29

He was meant to save the world,

His actions certainly shook

And took so many lives

Was Enola proud of her little boy?

Roosevelt and Churchill sat quietly together

A year or so before,

Discussing the future of the little boy

And the ‘Manhattan project’ was born.

Peace was the ultimate aim

Against a foe who sacrificed their own children,

Who had no intention of stopping their quest

Of world submission and outright domination

Drastic and final measures had to be employed.

When the gleaming, glass fronted ‘Superfortress’

Took to the air that day,

With the little boy strapped deep in her bowels

It signaled that

The world would never be the same again.

When Nagasaki met ‘The fat man’

And Kokura breathed a sigh of relief,

It was all over,

The enemy had fallen to their knees.

The ‘Mighty Mo’ took the honour

When the signature was scribbled on the parchment,

But it was number 82 Enola Gay

And her little boy

Who gave out the terrible lesson.

The project was a horrific success

The ‘Manhattan’ its secret now shared,

The legacy of which is a fractious world peace

Though terrorism still threatens our freedom.

In a dreadful twist of irony

The name Manhattan, used so long ago

 To procure the worlds lasting safety,

Suffered at the hands of terrorists

With wanton destruction of the twin towers,

Fifty six years after the little boy

Fell from the sky to end a war

Evil bit back.

“Will Enola have to take her little boy out again?”

Phil Hall  July 2013

THE USE OF TIME

THE USE OF TIME

England 4^th July 2013 07:55 precisely

The date and time already consigned to history,

As my typing is really slow

And my fingers can’t hit the keys

As fast as my mind can go,

It’s already 07:56.

So a minute of my life has past

But I’ve made an impression upon the world,

The words I’ve written are now set in cyber stone

With their place firmly rooted in my past,

What will you do with your minutes?

Take a look around you and mark the moment,

You will take a couple of minutes out of your life

To read this and I am thankful to you,

So, mark the time and set the clock in your mind

Then cherish the use of time.

Take in the scent of your favourite flower

Or write a piece just like mine,

Open the window and breathe in the air

Take a sip of your favourite wine.

Enjoy a moment to listen to the birds sing

Call a loved one and shower them with love,

Help your neighbour as they struggle with their bags

Or pray for peace to the one up above.

You could bake a cake for the family

Even donate some money to the poor,

This moment is just a fleeting passage in your life

We don’t know if we’ll have many more.

If everyone used the chance they have

And responded to the words of this rhyme,

Then maybe we’d all enjoy a better world to live in

By making the best use of our time.

Phil Hall  July 2013

THE ELEPHANT AND THE FLEA

THE ELEPHANT AND THE FLEA

(Capitalism meets Syncretism)

There was a lot of activity at the watering hole

 Wildebeest and zebra and even an Oryx foal

 A flea was being a nuisance, biting at the beasts

      When, a lumbering elephant came into view at the watery feast.

Lots of bickering diplomats banging on the UN’s door

With noisy foreign attaches shuffling on the floor,

One diplomat in particular was making lots of noise

 An important member stood out, with elegance and poise.

The flea started to harangue the giant, with its nasty little bite

But, the leviathan just wandered past not noticing the mite,

The flea got agitated and flew up to his adversaries’ eye

“I have the infections to destroy you; I can even make you die.”

The shouting in the chamber was from the Syncretistic

His Capitalist adversary was omnipotent and totally realistic,

The raging diplomat spat insults into his opponents face

“We now have the capability to put you in your place.”

The flea started to show off with amazing feats of strength

Like jumping into the air up to ten times its body length,

Then it picked a large grain of sand which it carried on its back

“I maybe small but I’m powerful, anyone of you I can attack.”

He boasted of potential nuclear strikes on nearby foreign lands

He didn’t worry about the consequence of blood upon his hands,

“You cannot dictate to us so beware we will do just as we please,

The age of capitalism and colonialism will be brought down to its knees”

The elephant filled his mighty trunk and blew water into the air

So all the creatures not close enough could get an equal share,

He uprooted a tree, scattering leaves and fruit over the arid ground

All the hungry animals ate well after coming from miles around.

The capitalist pointed to his good deeds to help a fellow man

The eradication of drought and starvation being the master plan,

“You obviously have the knowledge, your scientists are bespoke

So why not use your talents to help your country folk?”

The flea could see he was outgunned, so he turned upon the foal

The aggressive little bully, sabre rattling was his goal,

 The elephant wouldn’t see a defenseless animal suffer like that

So he raised his mighty hoof and crushed the annoying flea flat.

The syncretistic threats wasn’t causing the capitalist any hurt

So he angered smaller nations, by threatening to crush them into the dirt,

The capitalist said “I will stop you, with our Allies and with our wealth

Your weapons of mass destruction will be neutralized by stealth”

Phil Hall  July 2013

JUST LIKE YOU

JUST LIKE YOU

Today I’m going to be

Just like you

Doing the annoying things

That you all do,

Shall I illegally park

In a disabled space?

Slam a shop door

In a woman's face?

Maybe I’ll read your phone text

Check on your private mail,

Then I’ll drive like an idiot

Close to another cars tail.

 I could shout and swear

In a nice country pub

And I won’t clean the bath

After soaking in the tub.

I’ll ignore you in the market.

If all your groceries drop,

Especially after barging past you

On the way into the shop,

When it comes to a special present

I’ll just buy you socks

And I will never

Put money in a charity box.

I’ll answer my phone

In the cinema show,

And I’ll stop all the traffic

When the lights say go.

I’ll hang on street corners

And graffiti on the wall,

I’ll bully little children

And steal their bike and ball.

I’ll go into somebody’s house

And take what isn’t mine,

I’ll even steal from my mother’s purse

And pretend that all is fine.

I won’t tidy the garden

I will not cut the grass,

So just like all the rest of you

Today I’ll be an Ass.

Phil Hall  July 2013