Two Tier

Corruption, riots, ambulances in flames.
More terrorist plots - no media blames.

Patriots protest - far right rage.
Thuggery - before feet hit the cobbled stage.
Before a word, before a sign.
The verdict drawn the fault assigned.

Muslims with swords nothing to see
mosques filled with knifes - nobody cries.
An Englishman with banner - jailed and dies.

Two sides shout - false stories told
one painted just - one painted cold.
Bricks still fly - Left lips still lie

We cant coexist! - neath our English sky.

Two tier injustice - the coward police embrace.
In one hand a baton - to the dark there's grace.

Another sentence suspended - another fuckin sex crime
Four years in prison - for a social media line.

Still to come - more tears, more blood, and more loss.

But still we will hoist - our St George Cross!



Lord Have Mercy


I have stood in pain and called it life
As I grew - a pint in hand masked the strife
But in the quiet - now the cheers are gone
I hear the spirit - I thought I'd outrun

Not from the steel I kept close by my side
Not in the noise nor the things that I hide
But in a whisper - that drifts steady and low
I lay it all down - yet more I must know

Still the line is fine - in these days
I'm more than the man - who shouts and prays
I was held - when I became undone
Help me fight - the battles not won.

Here I stand with just a pen in my hand
No grand defence no final plans
Just love and truth and a fragile plea

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me!







Prayer Rope

I sit scared with brass knuckles an knife.
Yet useless they lie - dark spirits seek life.

I rise for battle - grab my prayer rope.
I call on Christ - the source of all hope.

Through spirit and chants - have mercy on me.
Each knot a firm strike - no steel can be.

In the quiet of battle my soul stands whole.
Guarded by Angels as prayer guides my soul.

Unconscious Force

My attention adrift on narrow roads
an unseen wind decides.
In a candle flicker I hear a whisper
of an incoming tide.

Old memories I see - my hand upon
the wheel.
Incense - The Word - The Icons.
In buried echoes I start to feel

Did I choose where my eyes did rest?
The truth my mind eyes see?
Beneath the smoke and fire light
there moves a darker kind of sea.

Father speaks of sacred hearts
a guarding inward door.
A prayer on incense slowly climbs
and restless thoughts - they are no more.

False Prophet

He came in a cloak of gentleness,
He shrugged to mercy while promising bless.
But underneath the sheep soft skin,
A ravenous wolf - waits within.

Cries of scorn spill from the lips,
Calls for heads - and severed finger tips.
In 'holy war' their voices rise,
Oppression burning in their eyes.

Gods true plan, or cunning lies?
A false prophet in disguise.
Test the spirit, search the heart,
Let truth and error stand apart.

For he who strays from Christs own way,
Falls to shadows that betray.

Yaxley

They tried to bury him in lies
Took his home, tore his family,
broke his mind.
He heard the prison walls condemning.

But truth releases - restoring ruin.
His stubborn fire burns chains.

He fights not for glory nor hate.
But for love of his - and those forgotten.

A shepherd boy with stones.
A giant rises - a country moans.

Bruised, scarred not even steady.
But a shout from the crowds
beyond the towers of the mighty - ignited.

God whispers - stand! 

And stand he does.
underneath the cross, of St George.

Old Demons Wait

I was never self-diagnosed,
but for years I self-medicated.
My life until I met her,
was tangled and complicated.

Prison walls and darker nights
the suicide I survived.
I saw demons in the shadows,
yet still I am alive.

She carries childhood wounds,
her own long wars to weather.
In His good time, God watched
as we came together.

Now in love we've found a peace
that keeps away the thunder.
Still keep your guard, 
those old demons wait -
they wait to pull you under.

Steady Stay

The storm knew my name as a child
crashed early through my door.
My small hands were no match
I knew the shadows voice before.

Years passed, the waves smashed
yet still I crossed each sea.
Damaged like the winter oak,
yet His roots grow deep inside of me.

Always a peace in the aftermath
once suffering has had its way.
I feel the Holy Spirit of God,
not pushing - but a steady stay.

I rise again yet this, I wonder,
through all this fire and pain.
A forge to shape a humble man,
for work beyond his name.