I have no fear of death but a dreadful fear of living too long

The thought of sitting in a chair watching pop music videos, while wearing a nappy doesn’t appeal

Being fed liquidised slop by a pink haired teenager who’s chewing gum and talking on their phone

Being called darling or sweetie by someone who doesn’t know me is no way to end a life

Being kept alive to maintain profit for the owners, keeping the dividends up for the benefit of share holders

Like the cattle on the farm only kept alive as long as they are financially viable

Treating human beings like beans is the disgrace of the bean counters trade

Fight to keep them alive against their will to avoid the cost of having an empty room

Prolong the agonies of the resident to maintain profitability

Reform our social care give back the dignity of old age

Give back the respect to the people that created us it’s time to start a new page

There was no sense of loss for a life that had been lost

More a statement of style over human emotion

No sense of the loss of a soul that’s in passing

Everything held in as worms in a can

A tension that’s held in like a corset that’s too tight

A smile that says I’m ok everything’s alright

A masterpiece of acting keeping everybody sweet

No sense of loss or heartrending sadness

More a duty to be performed a signing off

I feel a sadness for the lack of joy for a hard working life

Taking a break by the river lark

It runs through Abbey gardens then goes slowly past ram meadow car park.

The trees are blowing in the breeze.

Shedding leaves gently like Mother Nature’s striptease.

As the greens turn to red and brown it can’t help but please.

Jack pike lays motionless in the gentle stream.

Waiting for the fry to come within his grasp.

As he grows he will take anything his teeth can clasp.

He doesn’t appreciate the changing of the leaves.

As the summer sun slowly fades.

He slows his life, needs less food.

Sitting out the winter in a state of lethargic bliss.

If you pass the lark, stop be still and quiet, you may see jack lazing there.

I was walking along the prom past the pier gap

I had been up all night wearing red cords and a pasty face with bloodshot eyes

The young constable stopped me and said ”what are you on”

I said “what are you talking about”

Don’t lie to me he said “I can see your on something”

I don’t know what you’re talking about I said

You must be on something to look such a wreck!

I have been up all night I said I am feeling very tired

Tell me what you are on and everything will be ok

I was getting fed up with the way this questioning was going

Don’t lie he said I can take you in and find out what you’re on

Oh fuck off I said arrest me then because I am going home

I walked away ignoring the stupid bastard

Knowing that if he tested my blood and urine he would find fuck-all

No alcohol or drugs or illegal substances at all

I was just a kid with no rules and no wish to go home

Another day of playing the game’ wasting my precious hours

I’ll never get them back rubbish in my ears talking till were hoarse

Maybe it’s done to help, maybe it’s done to be correct, it’s done to cover our own arse of course

No matter what is said how good how bad at the end of the day were still flogging a dead horse

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions

In our line of work it’s paved in lack of implementation

Old hands have seen it before, lives ruined by the lack of appropriate resources

Lives ruined by a system of care that doesn’t recognise the individual

Twenty odd years ago I was taught to take the holistic approach

Twenty years later were still flogging the same poor dead horse

Unfortunately it’s getting worse as no one will take responsibility

No one will make a stand put their head above the parapet

Until someone shouts out the king has on no clothes

We will all go on following the idiot that put a price on care

Grandad walking down the street odd shoes upon his feet.

Smiling at all the people that he meets.

Pleased to be walking into town.

Doesn’t realise or even care if he is still wearing his dressing gown.

He used to have a memory for all the fine detail.

Memory or the lack of is not what makes him a man.

He is still strong and wants to carry on don’t label him frail.

He is an old tough man that wants to do whatever he can.

His house may be a mess but he has his pride never the less.

Try not to put him in a home unless you want to kill him off.

Keep him as safe as you can especially if you are of his flesh.

When social services say he is not safe, join granddad and say in unison fuck off!!

Better to let him take his chances in the community.

Than to be pushed into a home and lose all dignity.

You can’t buy a B and B for a week for what they pay for elderly care.

It’s no wonder elderly care is rubbish you only get what you pay for.

It’s a day off, start the day with a cup of tea and a fag sitting in the conservatory.

Breakfast by eleven get dressed and have another cup of tea and a fag, usual story.

By twelve it’s get the dogs bouncing by the door, excited and yelping “let me out I’m bursting”

Walking boots heavy coat and a pocket full of cigarettes.

Off we go a cause for great excitement being pulled along the path rushing to greet everyone we meet.

Turn left along Mill Street sniffing a favourite bit of wall, past the cottages, and the cat that sits and watches with contempt.

Turn right into smelly lane past the house of murphy the terrier, who now is never seen but often heard.

A lane that’s full of scents a ditch and a slightly muddy path, strangely we never see a bird.

At the corner it’s of the lead and onto rope walk, the salty scent of the marshes.

Puddles right across the roadway water on both sides. We’re coming up to the boatyard.

Houseboat dog stands and looks sometimes barks, saying don’t come to close.

Through the winding muddy path then onto a seawall with a nicely gravelled path.

Oyster catchers. Curlews and egrets take no notice as we walk past.

Greenshanks ducks and gulls on the flooded meadow.

Cross the field into backside lane it’s muddy and wet.

Along the tree arched path until we reach the horses.

It opens up we can see the sky again, up the hill towards the high street.

Back on the lead we walk along the path and we can see Hurst green.

Stop and look by the rosebud pub cross and we are on the green.

It’s our home turf I own this ground I mark my path towards home.

Nearly there cross into link road the wind is always cold and strong in this road.

We turn left and we are home, through the door and wait.

Hold my legs out one two three four now I am dry rush in and get a homecoming treat.

Settle down on the sofa that’s it let a sleeping dog lie.

Raindrops pattering on the roof

Candle flickering in the breeze

Trees swaying dropping rain as they please

Lightning and thunder rolling in from the sea

A sticky summer night not fit for sleeping

Under the gazebo watching bats acrobatic feeding

Cooling off that’s what we were needing

A cool night time breeze giving us a sleepy feeling

Much needed water for our thirsty garden

Before the seed pods have hardened

Evening primrose glowing yellow by the candles light

Orange marigolds closing up their flowers for the night

The nicotiania gives off its moth friendly scent

The gentle rain seems to be well meant

This is no fierce summer storm but a night time heat relent

I take its cooling breeze and rejoice in its cooling reprieve

Does the Human race deserve to survive?

We spend our time creating weapons that no man can survive.

We build slums around our cities that don’t allow people to feel alive.

We create environments in which people cannot thrive.

Are we not a disgrace that should be ashamed to show its face?

Should we throw ourselves of a cliff like lemmings and leave the world a better place?

Two thousand years of development and we are still a bloody disgrace.

The rich are still trying to keep the poor in their place.

There is no wealth without poverty this gives the rich their grace.

They can afford to be generous donate but not enough.

When the plebs want equality and freedom they try and appeal for reason.

When that fails they accuse them of treason.

Treason justifies the military rule.

Military rule gives soldiers an excuse to be inhumanly cruel.

If our gods came back now they would hang their heads and weep.

Two thousand years of culture and our behaviour is getting worse.

We no longer need to kill to survive.

We kill because we can we are such stupid bastards.

We have lost or never had a concept of the sanctity of human life.

We seem only to exist by causing misery and strife.

We’ve become immune to the suffering we see on our TVs.

We’ve seen hundreds dying thanks to twenty four hour news.

And now we can watch people die as we eat our tea.

That’s not progress it’s a worldwide immunisation program.

It’s time for the peasant to stand up and shout you can’t kill us all and not give a dam.

We don’t want elections that are nothing but a sham.

Give us the freedom from fear that is everyone’s right.

Give us the insight to look within ourselves and hopefully find the human hiding there.

Holkem beach is easy to reach.

And when you get there it is just a peach.

If you ever go to Norfolk it’s a place you should strive to reach.

Where else can you stand in a pine wood and look out over miles of beach.

You can walk and walk for hours along the strand.

In summer spring autumn or winter it will be grand.

If you have travelled from near or far to get there it’s not just sand.

It’s a place to view, to think, to let your mind run free.

It’s beautiful to look at but beware, it will kill the unwary.

It is what it is beautiful but totally uncaring.