Foot Soldiers

all hail to ye, deceased, forgotten heroes

whose lifeblood nurtures soil on nations built

once watered it with sweat and toil and seeds sowed

to reap but only death for all life spilt

all hail to mothers, fathers, generations

who set foundation stones, the bedrock laid

whose transitory lives persist in permanence

by paying of the price that must be paid

the living and the being and the doing

the dying unto self as years unfold

the sacrifice, the giving, life unravelling

as youth claims future, naturally, from old

all hail to ye, the vanguard, on whose shoulders

we build, it shall not pass in vain, that life you give

in honour and remembrance of foot soldiers

heroic, every day, in life well-lived

as once you were the present, still the future

your stake, the building blocks, that stand time’s test

as examples, living ever, in the nurture

of the relay, bearing batons, while you rest

all hail to ye, the immortal, timeless heroes

you have not passed while life holds firm the hands

of those who fill formation and then follow

no, never shall there be a final stand

your blood belongs and runs in endless heartbeats

you did not die, you live till time stands still

all hail to ye, we hear, salute your footsteps

foot soldiers, marching onwards, always will

Being The Word

His artistry in action serves notice on the word

For what are words without the follow-through

Receptacles for empty lest they do what they have said

And he does it all with minimum ado

From the carving of the wood to designing of the plot

Nurturing, as on he willing goes

From the service to all others, giving all he’s got

Actions speak with volume, we all know

From the being to the doing, negating passive voice

A willing man who gives and then gives more

An alphabet of loving, minus all the noise

He balances and then exceeds the score

To the doers who are doing while the thinkers think their thoughts

Vague luxury impressed when time stands still

While the hands sweep round the clocks, incessant in their tocks

He’s living life with effort and with will

While the words are taking wing in a vacuum lost in space

His actions fly and fill the greater void

Lending love around in the ways of active grace

Being usefully and truly well employed

Artistry in action serves notice on the word

For what are words without the follow-through

Receptacles for empty lest they do what they have said

We must be the words and do what doers do

Lucifer’s Lucre



Lucre’s lost to Lucifer

He’s stored it in a drawer

Stuffed his mattress full of it

And he’s collecting more

He’s buying gold and silver

In bullion bars and coins

Out of circulation

Poor pennies all purloined

Millions moved in secret

Bankers in a tiff

Widows wonder, well they might

Why they are being stiffed

Interest rates are falling

Money still rotates

Spins and disappears, presto

Coinage used as bait

Buying, buying, selling

Systemic, soiled by greed

Bring back barter, fair and square

Recycle what you need

The devil’s in the detail

The detail doesn’t work

Debt and dollars, yen or pence

Well-oiled and soiled, corrupt

Funding war and weapons

Conflict prints the notes

The devil’s shitting dross embossed

Demonising other folks

Billions there for Trident

While pension pennies must be saved

People are expendable

Cost nothing in their graves

Value, values, Values

Money’s lost the plot

In the abstract, in the round

Does it work? Or not?

Lucre’s lost to Lucifer

There’s more and more and less

Tried and failed, the tainted truth

Satan’s capital is cursed