PIRATES

Now! Best of order, shipmates, just keep quiet and listen well
And I’ll tell thee all the story of a ship and a golden bell.
This ship was feared across the seas from Antigua to Cadiz
Me uncle, Black Bill Bonecrusher, was captain; ship was his.

I read his log book, as a lad, when he would come to stay,
Bill told me of his escapades, when galleons were his prey.
At that he felt an icy chill and looked all round, in fear
And then said “Lad, this story, true, is only for your ears………….

1.
We were long into the summer
with the grass sweet and
the crabapples grainy and sour
on our pre-pubescent tongues.

The sun shadowed a clock onto
the street and it was time for food
and families.
That night I lay in bed with the
radio courting my dreams
while you slid into my friend's room and
seduced him to join you
in a world of make-believe,
helping him to get dressed;
pull those pants up around his neck
and tighten the belt.

MY COUNTRY by Ian Thomson

The broken walls of peasants’ homes
Stand silent in mute witness here.
The land where Wallace once disdained
The power of English sword and spear.

Yet, safe above those burnt-out homes,
And always keen to bend the knee,
The feudal Lord is Scotland’s shame,
A turn-coat, always first to flee.

They think they are like ancient Gods,
But they will find that when it matters
A right arm that can wield a sword.
Has more strength than a tongue that flatters.

“Alfred Digit” a Summary of his papers passed on to me a month or so ago.
They are taken from the diaries of a school chum I use to know.
I have written these mostly in the third person as it would explain the whole sequence of his later life

"Digit" Pt 1
He tore at the flesh as the screams subsided
the poor fool’s world and his had just collided
A short walk that was all there was to extinction
another flesh crazed attack his mark of distinction

THE SHED by Ian Thomson

In my spider-filled shed, where the flowers were all dead,
And the garden could grow only weeds
In an old watering can, lived a nasty wee man
Who yelled “Beat it !” if I touched his beads.

These beads could be tragic, for they made black magic,
Kids cried, that’s what gave him a laugh.
When shorty Ben Foller wished he were much taller,
The beads turned him to a giraffe!

Twin boys were born untimely to a maiden, "fair"
on an otherwise non-eventful day,
three moutths to feed gave her quite a scare
so she sent one son far, far away.

She sent one son to be adopted in France
Ahmal was the boy's first name,
with just the one son she'd have a better chance
although she loved them both, just the same.

Born into magick royalty
the one sent by the Goddess
who would set them free.

From conception forward
his destiny defined.
But in a dream
to his mother
the oracle, Riobhlinn, prophesised.
Written in blood
was Ravenel’s early demise.

With dark forces
landing on the shore,
the Queen made
a painful choice
to let her baby go.

HIGH NOON

In the U. S. of A. (where the antelopes play)
A land-rush had given men hope;
With no money to pay, they had reason to stay
And put roots down, their families could cope.

But some of these men were alone, had to send
For a wife from the east, say, New York
One such was the male, in this terrible tale
(Asked for one who was used to hard work.)

Through the darkened woods
Black Riding Hood ran.
Crushing the dirt
beneath her combat boots
to Grandmother's house
fast as she can.

Grinning with fangs
curled under deviant lips,
the Bad Wolf leapt.
Stopped Black Riding Hood
cold in her tracks.

I see you're alone
you must be afraid.
Would you be offended
if I walked with you a ways?

Black Riding Hood
stared unimpressed.
Stop wasting my time
I have some place to be.
Beat it, Wolf
Go climb a tree.

The devil is a dreamer
She comes in many a disguise
You'd know her if you saw her
Daughter of the Dead

Eyes filled with grief
Watery and blue
A colorless complexion
Transparent against a sunshine day

Daddy's Little Girl
Fanged fury of the night
By blood and bedroom
She was his princess, his queen
Took her innocence
Made her his muse

She'd lay down for him
But not for another
No one could compare once he'd gone
No one to fill the void he left