"Wednesbury Town"
Man and boy iv'e trod these streets its character standing still, but tradition bears an infinite bond and that is the Peoples will,
And gone are the days of industry where chains and nails were made, and in its place foundations laid 21st Century Laid,
The pubs and clubs that have stayed in tact and have stood the test of time, spill many a tale of drinking men and Many a tale of crime,
The buildings, streets, the market place, are dressed to look the part, but underneath that dressing up still lies the very Heart,
Of a town that has grown from coal to steel but alas these ran their course, because progress ruins the simple man and The clever are the force,
Here, your birthplace is your cradle as your tombstone is your bed, so know your roots and know you are black Country born and bred.
"The Dream"
Have you ever seen your tombstone in a dream, have you ever been chased but could not move,
Have you ever cried and heard the scream, i have in my dream,
Have you ever re-lived again your childhood plight, have you ever felt your ghost upon your back,
Have you fought but could not fight, i have in my dream,
Have you ever clung to life on a silo's edge, have you ever lay in your mothers arms,
Have you made an oath and broke that pledge, i have in my dream,
For this dream was a dream as the nightmare is life, where my fate has been sealed by the hand of a wife,
have you ever sensed your spirit at night, i have.
"2186"
Would you like to live forever to watch the world go up in flames,
The day will come when death is never computered minds to play their games,
2186 will bear this out iv'e listened ans so i'll tell, when man will bear no children
And this earth will come a hell.
"A Cry in the wind"
See me, but sense my anger that erodes my well bieng,
Hold me, and let my despair be quashed by your grasp,
Love me, and my knee's will scar at your mercy,
Feed me, and your fear will burden me forever,
Think of me, and i will be at peace in death,
Forget me, and i am no more.
"The English Riviera"
I sensed and felt the ocean's welcoming, i trod the sands and heard it whisper hello,
As the broth of sea swept around my feet, eternal thoughts were encased with every wave,
Birds at home sounded out their territory as feeding them fed me,
For their needs was my pleasure in one moment in time,
Shells,yells, i studied innocence explore every remnant of the oceans wealth,
For its own reputation brings love, harmony, and joy to the most burdened of biengs,
Trawlers on the horizon dropped anchor as nets filled,
For a fishermans chores are his life and living,
Sail on and let the entertainer sing his local anthems,
To commandeer on oppertunities to break his labour,
For industry has no friends here,
Its purifying air cleanses the mind, and its beauty leaves a lasting impression of gratitude,
And i think of when i cease to be whatthese views does engross,
Will still remain to relish, and then new odes will spill from a new generation,
And as i walk away from these shores, i ogle one more time at friends i leave behind,
So until i reurn again Devon, farewell, and may you stay calm and content at natures will.
"The Waster"
Here was a man with a tale to tell where a tear lay in every word, it was a long sentence,
At times he lay to dwell and his thoughts would turn bitter sweet, it made no sense.
He often dreamt of a new tommorow but the oncoming day was as before unchanged,
By his own admission he had the knowledge to conquer but he had almost given up hope on achieving anything.
His will faded like a crop in winter, the dying fragments of life scattered and surviving but had no direction,
It was if floating on an iceberg going nowhere with no course to sail and his fate left to the untamed sea.
He had a smile in his eyes where the girls bought his lies, but his lies had spiralled to an all time low,
The female form became a barrier, a chalice ridden cheating machine that catered for its own needs where the Consequence meant nothing.
Its suprising how the dirty talk of the waster excited the more intellectual refined woman who would hide her sexual needs beneath her lust filled halo,
Where he would spit in her eye and watch her true colours explode then rape her with his submissive intentions and Watch her take the bait.
The bar room atmosphere had a personality all of its own as the laughter of the drunken man became the wasters own Echo, his mirror image ,that drifted into insanity when ever the need be it was his own special heaven.
His songs were his friends and time and time again these played, for he knew that his songs could never die and that in Itself was some compensation,
People would look and know that his time was overdue but it was to no avail, it was as if snared with no escape for all his guille and cunning the waster lived with a burden with the burden to great to heal, the time went slow,
Even in his unconsious state he would cry and feel alone surrounded by fear, there was no way out,
Pretence was his only salvation, if only he had his time again but it was too late for wishfull thinking,
He yearned religion but what was it, how could he believe when he couldn't believe in himself and responcibility had become a thing of the past,
Ultimateley the love of a woman is needed for the relaxation of the inner peace of mind, but unconsiously, not there staring you in the face, and this he had had and lost, it was a large price to pay, a big part in his downfall,
On reflection his epitaph will always be incomplete, what he should have achieved and what he should have been there For all to see,
But sadly it ended with the words that came to hand at this time, that he drank to forget what he was missing.
And gone are the days of industry where chains and nails were made, and in its place foundations laid 21st Century Laid,
The pubs and clubs that have stayed in tact and have stood the test of time, spill many a tale of drinking men and Many a tale of crime,
The buildings, streets, the market place, are dressed to look the part, but underneath that dressing up still lies the very Heart,
Of a town that has grown from coal to steel but alas these ran their course, because progress ruins the simple man and The clever are the force,
Here, your birthplace is your cradle as your tombstone is your bed, so know your roots and know you are black Country born and bred.
"The Dream"
Have you ever seen your tombstone in a dream, have you ever been chased but could not move,
Have you ever cried and heard the scream, i have in my dream,
Have you ever re-lived again your childhood plight, have you ever felt your ghost upon your back,
Have you fought but could not fight, i have in my dream,
Have you ever clung to life on a silo's edge, have you ever lay in your mothers arms,
Have you made an oath and broke that pledge, i have in my dream,
For this dream was a dream as the nightmare is life, where my fate has been sealed by the hand of a wife,
have you ever sensed your spirit at night, i have.
"2186"
Would you like to live forever to watch the world go up in flames,
The day will come when death is never computered minds to play their games,
2186 will bear this out iv'e listened ans so i'll tell, when man will bear no children
And this earth will come a hell.
"A Cry in the wind"
See me, but sense my anger that erodes my well bieng,
Hold me, and let my despair be quashed by your grasp,
Love me, and my knee's will scar at your mercy,
Feed me, and your fear will burden me forever,
Think of me, and i will be at peace in death,
Forget me, and i am no more.
"The English Riviera"
I sensed and felt the ocean's welcoming, i trod the sands and heard it whisper hello,
As the broth of sea swept around my feet, eternal thoughts were encased with every wave,
Birds at home sounded out their territory as feeding them fed me,
For their needs was my pleasure in one moment in time,
Shells,yells, i studied innocence explore every remnant of the oceans wealth,
For its own reputation brings love, harmony, and joy to the most burdened of biengs,
Trawlers on the horizon dropped anchor as nets filled,
For a fishermans chores are his life and living,
Sail on and let the entertainer sing his local anthems,
To commandeer on oppertunities to break his labour,
For industry has no friends here,
Its purifying air cleanses the mind, and its beauty leaves a lasting impression of gratitude,
And i think of when i cease to be whatthese views does engross,
Will still remain to relish, and then new odes will spill from a new generation,
And as i walk away from these shores, i ogle one more time at friends i leave behind,
So until i reurn again Devon, farewell, and may you stay calm and content at natures will.
"The Waster"
Here was a man with a tale to tell where a tear lay in every word, it was a long sentence,
At times he lay to dwell and his thoughts would turn bitter sweet, it made no sense.
He often dreamt of a new tommorow but the oncoming day was as before unchanged,
By his own admission he had the knowledge to conquer but he had almost given up hope on achieving anything.
His will faded like a crop in winter, the dying fragments of life scattered and surviving but had no direction,
It was if floating on an iceberg going nowhere with no course to sail and his fate left to the untamed sea.
He had a smile in his eyes where the girls bought his lies, but his lies had spiralled to an all time low,
The female form became a barrier, a chalice ridden cheating machine that catered for its own needs where the Consequence meant nothing.
Its suprising how the dirty talk of the waster excited the more intellectual refined woman who would hide her sexual needs beneath her lust filled halo,
Where he would spit in her eye and watch her true colours explode then rape her with his submissive intentions and Watch her take the bait.
The bar room atmosphere had a personality all of its own as the laughter of the drunken man became the wasters own Echo, his mirror image ,that drifted into insanity when ever the need be it was his own special heaven.
His songs were his friends and time and time again these played, for he knew that his songs could never die and that in Itself was some compensation,
People would look and know that his time was overdue but it was to no avail, it was as if snared with no escape for all his guille and cunning the waster lived with a burden with the burden to great to heal, the time went slow,
Even in his unconsious state he would cry and feel alone surrounded by fear, there was no way out,
Pretence was his only salvation, if only he had his time again but it was too late for wishfull thinking,
He yearned religion but what was it, how could he believe when he couldn't believe in himself and responcibility had become a thing of the past,
Ultimateley the love of a woman is needed for the relaxation of the inner peace of mind, but unconsiously, not there staring you in the face, and this he had had and lost, it was a large price to pay, a big part in his downfall,
On reflection his epitaph will always be incomplete, what he should have achieved and what he should have been there For all to see,
But sadly it ended with the words that came to hand at this time, that he drank to forget what he was missing.