If’s and when’s and maybe’s & all the words that fuck me up.

I sit here dreaming in the furniture of my youth.
Happy dreams that established me.
Playing out in the warm wide sun.
Soldiers trekking through the garden known.
I’m older now but wish I could
Open the door and return back there.
Those happy days without end or sight
Of deadlines which haunt me now and bind my mind.

I see myself as once I was
Smile alight on a tender face
Knowing none of the bullshit which haunts me now.
Running amok with innocent imagination on fire
And the rockery a battlefield of happy toys.
I’d climb on windows and escape the mess
Of Lego strewn on bloodied floor
Walls of Hadrian crossed the room
And days were spent in battles grown.

Then came desktops and cassette radios all climbed by men in suits
Uniforms of war and guns of fun
Stretched high and thrust upon the shelves of books.
I’d spend my days in conquest or happy defeat
Knowing that tomorrow I would do the same.
No need for doubt, no need for pain,
No need to care what mankind did or died outside.

Freedom is the word which recalls my youth
Playing football in the local park or street
Climbing trees and laughing loud, reading books and making plans
I’m older now, but I escape to then, I return to the past to find myself.
He who’s lost in this frightening grown up world
One of death and hate & fear and sin
Not like the world in which I began.

A child stays fresh, his mind alive
Fighting dragons and playing games, being cops and stealing space
All these things & more I held so dear.
The if’s and buts and when’s or maybe’s
They were never words when I was young.
I owned the world & I was king
I was someone special, alive, unique
I was as big as my ego wished itself to be.
Could life ever be like that again?

~ aka: A Lament For The Old Days
*one song, one programme, was all it needed to send me into a spin today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKd2G9CYKmE
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b05r7nxx/onehit-wonders-at-the-bbc

© ed simkins

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Choices Are Made

minutes tick past and the child is unborn.

ropes and buttons and machines lie around.

the parents are angry, maybe they killed,

they didn’t care, didn’t know, Christ, they didn’t deserve.

i stand there and watch and i watch her rejoice

that a life filled with hatred is a lucky escape.

she looked up to me and questioned my position,

& i replied in soft whispers, & told her i agreed.

for what use is a parent who argues and lies,

ones without brains that adds no formation,

cannot answer a challenge, or be there with such smiles,

& like death in a shroud, i lifted the baby,

i took her outside and i showed her the clouds.

i showed her the droplets & i showed her the land,

i tickled and she giggled, she laughed and she learned,

she picked up a book and together we read.

we watched the stars and the planets, and traveled the world,

we made money and ate, sung badly and danced.

she learned how to cook and she played all the games,

she bought a new camera & photographed her life,

she fell in love and made love to a beautiful man.

then one day in winter, i took her back home,

we stood by her parents and stared in their eyes.

she asked them of their struggle and questioned them why,

for why burdens were passed, whey they continued to hate,

why they had unhealthy babies, and buried her with such fate.

she walked away slowly, and left a picture of her own,

of a child of her own, who she loved and she praised,

of one who was clever because she’d given her such time,

that her love and her brains and imagination did grow,

that the cycle was broken and a human was born,

who was perfect in ways that no-one could foresee,

& all just because,  i took the decision to stand in

& i ask of the world, & of the god who stands by

when will these humans learn to teach life.

~ After spending a day entertaining my nephews 🙂

(c) Ed Simkins