AND SO I AM

I am man
And so I am,
Lend a hand
Understand
Because
I can.
I am man
I feed the poor,
Outstretched arm
Safety or harm
Peace and harmony.....
Or war.
Give or take
Clenched fist or handshake,
I am think tank
Loan shark or food Bank
Charity
Or on the make.
I am man
But, what's the plan?
To make a name?
Infamy or fame?
Baiter and hater,
Supporter and fan.

I am
Who I am,
Sometimes genuine
Sometimes sham,
Laid roots
Family tree,
Rock solid
That's me
More marmite
Than jam
And
So I am.

I was boy
Mothers pain.... And joy,
From the teat
To under her feet
Crying
Over broken toy.
Angry teen
Rebellious, yet keen
No bike or go kart
All reading and art,
And so I am
You see what I mean?
Learning for earning
In the guise of work,
Sweated brow
Suckling the cash cow
Spending on booze
Going berserk.
Seed was sown
Children of my own,
English and math
Guide to the right path
Quickly they grow
Back to being all alone.

I am
Who I am
Sometimes genuine
Sometimes sham,
Laid roots
Family tree
Rock solid
That's me.
More marmite
Than jam
And
So I am.

So now I look to the sky
This is where
I'd like to lie,
Floating about, a spirit of man
At peace, at rest
Finally just an ethereal guest
And so I am
No more.

Phil Hall    September 2015
Copyright philthepoet61.blogspot.com

GREY HORIZONS

One can stare all day
At grey horizons
Where good denizens
May inhabit.
The proverbial headlight rabbit,
This is the future
Grab it.
Sullen steeples
Flocks of sheep,
Those people
All going the same way
As you.
And
What do you do?
Reach the grey horizon,
It may be gone
To be replaced by another.
You will soon discover
That all horizons
Have an horizon.
That may be surprising,
But one's just surmising
Because for what it's worth,
We inhabit a round earth
So, by the end of the day
All one can say is we fail.
Day after day
Chasing one's tail
Until we're gone.....
And we've fell over the edge
Of the grey horizon.

Phil Hall.  AUGUST 2015
Copyright philthepoet61.blogspot.com

FLOATING ISLANDS

As a youth
I walked on floating islands,
Far away
In distant time and space.
A beautiful place,
Where trees of bonsai form
Were the norm
And skies were of
Scarlet hue,
Never of blue.
Jagged rocks
And pathways of wonder
I would roam,
Alternative world's
Stood in a alternative universe
I was never alone.
I drifted along
Deep in thought,
Scattered vinyl on sheets,
Lay amongst the albums
I'd bought.
Eyes wide shut

But,
Open to the sights
I'd seen,
The world
According to Roger Dean.
Teenage memories
Oh how they scream,
Of Floyd, Yes
And Tangerine Dream.
Orchestral, electrical
Music so grand
Alone with my thoughts
Lay on floating islands.

Phil Hall August 2015

Copyright philthepoet61.blogspot.com

NINE MILES

Herbs swirling
Around my head,
As I gaze upon
The single bed.
I'm in Zion
Shoes off,
Paying my respects
Before the lion.
Nine miles
One love
And children's smiles,
Chasing the bus
No fi cuss
Throw out the dollar
And hear the holler.
Tomb of finest marble
The King lying in state,
His words still true,
We await our fate
The three little birds
Still singing
To me and you.
So here I am
In Bobs backyard,
Full of one love 
The memories will be strong.
The lion is in Zion
Hard as iron
No woman no cry,
What could be wrong?
Back on the bus
Salute to Rastaman,
A place of peace
As only The lion can,
Yeah man, I and I
We are one blood,
That can only be good,
I smile
I've walked in Zion
Man been a nine miles.
Marley, a true legend
True king,
One love
Lyric
Man, woman and child
You all can sing.
One love
One heart
Let's get together
And feel alright.

Phil Hall. July 2015
Copyright philthepoet61.blogspot.com

philthepoet: ALL ABOUT TAKE

philthepoet: 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...

INHUMAN RACE

I don't like
The human race,
Obnoxious bastards
All over the place.
No manners, no class
No heirs and grace,
Total disregard for anybody
They spit in ones face.
The inhuman race,
These ignorant twats
No doubt spongers
And breed like rats,
A life of cigarettes
And meals full of transfats.
They should be neutered
Like mangy, flearidden cats.
So much mouth
Yet nothing worthwhile to say,
At everyone else's expense
They come out to play
Pushing and barging
To be front of the queue,
Nose deep in any trough
That's what they do.
The gross and oversized
Rambunctious yanks,
With their groaning plates
No surprise, they're built like tanks.
Also, the scowling
Council house Brits,
With no regard for other cultures
They get on ones tits.
So called Brazilian babe's
With their disdain and haughty air,
But I know the truth, to get here
You sold your child's hair.
The French and Scandinavians
With that, we're better than you look,
Carry on the catwalk pose ladies
No one gives a fuck.
Reverse baseball cap
Sunglasses on top of the head,
The need everyday
To have the same sunbed.
So holiday all inclusive
They're all over the place,
Then relax back and take a peek
At the horrible, inhuman race.

Phil Hall August 2015
Copyright philthepoet61.blogspot.com

MAMMEE BAY

I listened to Fleetwood Mac
I listened to them today,
I heard 'Albatross'
Whilst I strolled a beach
In Jamaica
A beach called
Mammee Bay.
The cymbals
Representing the waves,
Lapping at the sand
So serene,
This is a paradise
Only I have may have ever seen.
The true surf
Of that jewel encrusted sea
Played with my sunburnt toes
Totally refreshing me.
I'm sure this what
Life is all about
What finding yourself
Actually means.
Everyone and everything
Became rudimentary
With time and space
An unconscious state
And even elementary,
Here I walk quietly
On the sand of Mammee Bay
Aching body and advancing age
Purely sedentary.
A lonely frigate bird
Sailing on a turquoise sky,
Without troubles or worries
No if, when, what or why?
Albatross ends
The soothing tune
Comes to a melodic close,
Will I hear that surf again?
Feel the sand of Mammee Bay,
Maybe
One day
Who knows?

Phil Hall    August 2015