A Day In The Life Of Me.

A cold evening death, stillness in solitude.
The light fades deep; a darkened empty room.
Sun dips head and waves farewell.
Dark mood takes over, sombre tone to tell,
In sands of grey, a mangled wreck
A human tide around my neck
A foreign race of greed & power
Stripping my nation of courage by hour.
St. George he fell in overwhelmed disgust.
While flowers saluted as England lost.
Two camps came clear, one black, one white
An error in the ways of man, so obvious to cite.
& women captured by the folly of their lies
Money, power, greed & comfort, opened wide your treacherous thighs.
I circled the army to which I relate.
The few were dying though but I battled hate.
Yet battle lost I ran inside, a hideous complex, a rich man’s joke
A hideous beast in which I hid, the tears fell from brave mens broke
I punched the terrorists & killed a few,
I ran through buildings, bruised black & blue
I cried for the millions, their mouths shut tight
For no-one speaks when God takes fright.
Collecting swords & thoughts gone past
I escaped outside & screaming fast
I took the soldiers & shook their head
“Follow on!” I cried & the war reset
A growing impulse of right from wrong
& If God were here he’d lead along!
Still numbers rose & the dead lay thick,
I stumbled forward on blood & sick,
I craved my medals, I sought my gold
I stood on limbs & raised their soul
But then I blinked & I was led
To train of strangeness in empty shed
I gazed at girl & stripped her down
Her clothes were torn & flesh was shown.
I bit her lips & loved her skin,
I pushed her round & pulled her in,
She loved her pleasure & I her smile
& echoes filled my ears awhile.
But solemn night now takes control,
& light has faded over lonely soul,
I sit here silent & weary torn,
Intrepid fighter, in tired form.

~ a day in the frightful city; of library, aliens, trains, beauty & interest.
© ed simkins

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Without Focus

a secret told in hidden depths of blackened skies.
Rains fall. Dreams end. subjected issues plague the mind.
Stillness reigns. Inertia, fear & regret.
The explosion of the chase that was racing over yonder hill was but a day away before. & gone.
Now past.

I find myself in solitude. Pages of dread stare at me from the silence of the leather bound case.
Pens stare. Keyboard distracts. & waits.
Intelligence still.
I cannot work.

& reasons forth are many & in multitude.
Rush forward to speak & understand the problems that are or which delay.
– Dreams sir!
Dreams!

Of a child known which smiles & laughs & in her wisdom avenges with such cheek & wit.
Her probing retaliations & curious ways fend me off in such pleasant ways.
She brings me in. entraps & snares.
A witch of youth who torments my heart & mind with thoughts of her alone.
& still no single kiss from lips unknown.
I beg.

Hand which types & struggles forth in unfocussed mind seeks to touch
To gentle caress her blushing cheek.
I smile.
& die.
& stare at words which flow upon the screen & not through work.
For I think of her.
Of her.

& perhaps she knows my secret now.
– She teases so!
That love & lust & wanton desire & soft & luscious warm affection awaits.
Seeks her.
Wants her.
But I must focus.
On tedium that must daily transpire & urge my mind to focus thus.
Away from her. Away from dreams. Away from yearning that consumes me so.
& as I type & struggle to conquer days ahead, I will think of her.
Of impish delight. Of conversations held in jest.
& best…
Her beauty thrown in perfect form which leads me into thinking things that many say I should not.
But do.

For love, or delusion, or boyish want
Will keep her in my mind this quiet night.
I love her!
With all my heart I think of her.
But torn heart which cannot touch her precious soul, must now instead win over mind
& focus on the struggles of thought & work
Such is the fight within my head that now exists.

~ Procrastination & thoughts of her. I cannot concentrate. Nor focus on my work.

© ed simkins

Between Work & Play

cold dark days & headaches form,

brilliant lights explode in mind.

I’m off to war in but a moment,

where dogs and cats will be left behind.

dreams will run or skip and make me smile,

though shadows form in veiled mask!

repetitions blown from the four winds of time,

i sit here frozen, though happy, relaxed.

i could tell you a story of the famous girl,

but i know that tonight you may not care.

My vice is my own and the thoughts are known.

so i’ll just pop upstairs and change for war.

old man clothes, blazer, shirt,

black tie and watch, his pockets clean.

these garbs i’ll drop and out i go,

escape the ritual of a Friday sleep.

all in order to impress the world,

or perhaps i’d say, to make me feel

a slight sense of some human worth,

or if all goes well, the world will smile

& the day will be won, alongside the battle.

for the library’s clean, the kids sent home,

weekend is free and the dreams begin.

who knows what fantasies will blow this mind,

& tease our eyes with skin and heat!

Good night, good night, farewell & night!

~ Friday night & I’m shattered, but free!

(c) Ed Simkins

Sitting here

eyes asleep & a broken neck, my head it rests on battered thought.

an orange flame flickers, dances, nods in joy, its silent praise bathed in wax

waves of sound stroll back & forth, back & forth.

emptiness in my head.

the girl with hair of maiden straw, she left the world a lonely place.

she dissappeared & children learnt, that such a word is written wrong.

i sought a sight of a smiling face and ended with such fakery.

fun that should & could and would have been, mutated into climbing trees

the children climbed and laughed and fell about, the storms of rage did take a few

and then the world it paused in hidden hope, that evening slumber would now approach

& with a flight through starry sky, the horses ran & whisked me home.

To my cave of ice, a heated breath, my frozen nails and fur-lined mask

here i sit & watch my mind, a drifting thought that passes by

& with no hate, for all has gone, the news switched off and door shut tight

i rest in light that no man knows, with ghosts and dreams and broken hopes.

i bid all well and hide myself, a hiding human in his cave.

sitting, resting, waiting, his dreaming heart encaged.

(c) Ed Simkins

~ On the events of my today; through work & play & now.