WESTERN SUN

WESTERN SUN

If you believe

The western sun

Is falling down,

Think again

You stupid

Mother fuckers.

From Hells Angel to trucker,

This world is for all

This world is for the free,

A common goal

Everyone’s freedom,

A common aim

Choice,

Under a common name

Liberty,

Fire chief to Bishop

Pilot to fisherman

A call to arms,

See the power

Of the rays

As you witness

The rising of the Western Sun.

The sands of time

Herald a

Shift in power

Hide in domes and tower,

The surge under the blood red sky

No more

Your chance has gone,

The hand of peace

The aid, the money, the time

All gone

The palm becomes fist again.

The stars and the Jack

The limeys and the Jonathon’s,

Parliament and the senate

Stand firm

Resolute

For the re emergence

Of the Western Sun.

Let not the deaths of our young

In the pursuit of world peace

Be in vain.

Let not the unelected despots

And tyrants

Be safe behind the threat

Of nuclear terror.

We are damned if we do

We are damned if we don’t,

Let’s face it

We have the money

We have the weapons

That is all they want from us.

Make your choice world

Our patience is wearing thin.

Phil Hall  June 2013

FAR AWAY

FAR AWAY

The girl I love

Is so far away,

The girl I need

A distance in time

By a half day.

What can I do?

What can I say?

I need to convince her

With her my heart will stay.

I see her smile

Through a sheet of glass,

When one of us sleeps

How slowly the hours pass.

We talk, we plan

We are full of promise and hope,

It is hard to be without her

Neck tightened in the rope,

She is so far

My girl in another world

She is my shining star.

Oh how we’ll play

We’ll stroll hand in hand,

She’ll walk in my steps

In my magical land,

We’ll count the days

Till we are one

We’ll banish the fears

Till they’re none

I just want her to see

I just want her to know,

Through the glass

She can touch me,

My girl so far away

Understand

She becomes we

Very soon now

It is meant to be.

No more worry

No more jealousy,

Far away

To so very near

It is

You and me.

Phil Hall  June 2013

THE WAIT

THE WAIT

(Dedicated to Ms Vanessa Swales Consultant Surgeon)

The wait

 Apprehensive wait,

The pensive mood

And

Although I look calm

This is a field I understand.

I am going to be knifed today

By a beautiful woman

Professional and calm,

A smiling, calculating lady

Will plunge the blade

Deep into my naked flesh.

With steady hand

And gaze of serene intensity

She will explore her work,

My defenseless form

A labour of love for her

With deft touch pulling

Muscle and tissue apart,

I am hers to do as she pleases.

The gentlest caress

Removes my seeping blood

And she continues

Probing, searching for the defect,

She discovers my inner being

And with artistry

She repairs my hurt.

So here I sit

Waiting,

I have a date with a beautiful lady

Who will plunge a knife

With professional intent

Deep

Into my sacrificial skin.

Phil Hall  June 2013

SWEET HURT

SWEET HURT

You breathe fresh life

Into this tired mind,

You are life itself

Pure, beautiful

And so, so very gentle

You inspire me

And you are my determination.

I am the child in your arms

I’m the little boy,

Stood with faced pressed

Against the toy shop window,

Awaiting

Like the boy waiting for Christmas.

I stand alone

Alone in a sea of unknown faces,

Yearning for the day

That God delivers you to me.

I feel your sweet hurt

I pray it is so,

Your smile perched on trembling lips

Is in anticipation of the joy

That is sure to come.

A beating heart

Quickened by expectancy,

A love generated by need and passion

Your soul soon to be caressed,

Soon to be free of shackles

With the manacles of life unlocked.

A dove to fly free

The sweet hurt in joyous abandon,

As your flight

Toward ultimate joy and happiness

Brings the peace

Of love

To

You.

Phil Hall June 2013

THE WILLIAM TYLER

THE WILLIAM TYLER

(With appreciation to the great Charles Dickens

And his work ‘Characters’, as seen in Sketches by Boz.)

There’s a wonderful public house

That is very close to me

It encapsulates the area,

And its varied history

From Catherine of Aragon

*

To the custard factory,

The manor of Blakesley Hall

And William Tyler with his story.

The place is full of characters

Each with their own tale,

So I settle down to people watch

With a glorious pint of foaming ale,

The old man with his ‘Racing post’

Studying form and deathly pale,

His yellowing eyes avoid the crowd

His life is dull and stale.

He looks up at the office staff

His grimace toward the noise,

With the shortest skirts and highest heels

The girls giggling attracts the boys,

They totter about after too much drink

Not much elegance and poise,

They’ll enjoy the attention for sugary shots

The low cut top and fleshy leg the spongers decoys.

The factory workers clear glasses for the cards

The leather clad biker shuffles and deals,

An old lady, hunched and frail, licks her sagging lips

Her eyes following a serving girl with steaming meals,

Back to the young office lads in cheap tailored suits

One’s got slapped after grabbing a feel,

The bottled blonde he’d fondled with mock anger

Let out an indignant yet feigned, girly squeal.

The warming hum of chatter, mingled with laughter

Without the drone of awful music, like a club,

Good well priced food and a fine selection of ales

With attentive, chatty and well mannered staff the hub,

The archers war bows drawn to welcome all

And this is the nub,

I’m convinced the late great Charles Dickens

Would’ve found plenty of material in this place

The William Tyler

 My wonderful local pub.

**

Phil Hall  June 2013

* 'Catherine of Aragon' an original painting on tile

which hangs in the 'William Tyler' Free house Yardley Birmingham

** The public House named after the first recorded tile maker in Yardley in 1401.

OUR TIME WILL COME

OUR TIME WILL COME

Each second an hour

Each hour like a day,

Our stolen moments across the waves

Just prolong the pain.

I want to be like a killer

When the last day arrives,

The final hours on this earth fly away

With the walk to eternity over quickly,

How I wish our day

Could end with such haste

Only our heaven will be on earth.

I’ll chase the stars through the sky

I’ll hurry the moon to rise,

Just to be with you

My love across the sea

Our time will come.

I want the seasons to overlap

With snow resting on a summer rainbow,

With birds raising broods in winter

I want Christmas everyday

Believe me darling

Our time will come.

I’ll lend a hand to father time,

I’ll shake the hand of the clock

Sing happy birthday to it daily

Hoping to see his face age

I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes.

Our time will come

Of that I am sure,

Then, let’s turn the sun to stone

Hold it fast in the sky,

When we love one another

It’ll be till my dying day.

I’ll make each day feel like a lifetime

Full of cherished memories,

Our time is soon here

It only feels so long

Without you

Our time will come

Then all time will stop

Just for us.

Phil Hall  June 2013

SPIEGEL IM SPIEGEL

SPIEGEL IM SPIEGEL

(MIRROR IN MIRROR)

(Press for music)

The last vestiges of winter cling

With snow an ebbing tide,

Woods awaken to the sun

Shards of watery glass

Drip through the newly

Sprouting leaves,

Springtime stretches its wings.

The first sweet snowdrop

All coy and demure,

Lifts her head from the ground

With arms in fresh tunic of green,

She yawns and smiles at the sun.

She is the mirror in the mirror

From the base of her protecting tree,

She makes her short lived entrance

To a world of such impurity,

But her love of life

Her tender petals

Give annual hope

For a better place.

This delicate flower

The mirror of all life,

 With the hope

For a beautiful world,

She sways in tranquility

Her simple dance for life.

All too soon her work is done

As she lays her withered head,

To sleep for another year

Every year a mirror

A replica of the last,

Our simply beautiful snowdrop

A reminder of our past.

Phil Hall  June 2013