David and Goliath (HMS Glowworm Vs Hipper)

David and Goliath
The engines strain at their worn and rusty mounts.
Bolts working loose the revs increase every second counts.
Another peak then trough jolting my already aching spine.
I grab the rail knowing the day may still be mine.
An explosion lights the sky off on the starboard side.
Another flash behind telling me his aim was a little wide.
I see the effervescent tracks marking out a eerie grid.
The voice beside me cut short as a shard kills the young mid.
The boat beside me stops still and glows bright red.
I feel the blast, knowing her crew, my friends are all now dead.
I shout my orders, which can only surely fall on deaf ears.
My eyes scan the wrecked bridge and I now realise all my fears.
No one can have lived through such devastation I decide.
But movement amongst the destruction puts paid to that visual lie.
I pull myself up forcing my inner self to carry on.
The small fair haired subbie now looking done in and wan.
Blood pools and offal now making each step slip.
I feel the deck rise then fall into what seems an endless dip.
Another salvo from our main four point seven inch guns.
The fear of capsize as the turbulent sea hurriedly runs.
Finally on her the glow of fire betrays a direct hit.
This no longer a one sided duel although we aren’t fighting fit.
A cheer is raised from our now skeleton crew.
We aim our bows at her, vowing to sink her I promise a new.
No longer noticing the tracer and explosive splashes.
Knowing it’s scant seconds til through her our bow smashes.
Alas the poor Glowworm won’t survive this day.
She hits the Hipper then the demon depths pull her away.
My lungs fill with salt water my life may end here.
But our story will live on in history for many a year.
At home our families will have pride of what we achieve.
Though that will help only little as they continue to grieve.glowworm-hipper-shellburst

Corrupted youth

I am painting a picture with my mind.
These words are for me so don’t be kind,
I am enclosed in a room of magnolia cream
The drab mono-colour causes me to scream

Feeling so very trapped within this un-life
Every comment offending with unintended strife.
It’s as if i live within a sepia silent film set
No longer searching for that challenge still not met.

My motivation has gone from this empty me.
My body and soul longing to live near the sea.
I don’t recognise this person I have now become
I just want to write stories whilst sat in the sun!

The inner me still fights and claws to get out
The tension still there as if I really need to shout!
Where has that which was me now finally gone
That bright good within that to me really shone.

I am still here somewhere hidden from sight
That young boys soul that was full of light.
The journey so far now going nowhere good
A miserable man where an innocent boy once stood.


Well looking back to that lad that sat in the junior science lab in January 79 wondering if the heating would come on, a little scared that the latest prediction of the worlds end was but hours away and it was Chicken Supreme for tea!! Looking back I remember my aspirations.
I wanted to live long enough to ride a bike, drive a car and have sex with a girl.
Everything else would be a bonus. I wanted to be a dad but did not believe I would be. I would feel lucky if I lived until I was thirty. I was thick and stupid because Mrs Forster at Great Moor Junior School and Stephen Flegg maths teacher at Stockport School (Mile End) had kept telling me so. Stephen also decided it would be fun to get some other boys such as the weasel like Simon Hill and pals to bully me. Praising and rewarding their vindictive atrocities with open acknowledgement in the classroom.
I had no idea as to what my life had in store. I was outside of school an explorer, leader of my gang, well jointly at least with Wendy Hildrew and her sister Gillian. Two of my closest and most under valued childhood friends.
I wish I had then the understanding of the world I have now. I wish I knew that girls were really the same as boys, same insecurity but just different hang ups. That teachers were not gods or many not even wise. In fact some such as messrs Flegg and Forster were teachers because they liked remaining playground bullies into adult hood and would not function anywhere else in society.
I am happy to name these vile excuses for educators on the off chance if the still cling to their putrid abusing existence they may read this and either understand their epitaph is one of contempt or even better attempt to sue me in the courts. A challenge I would dearly love.
I sort of planned to be a daring soldier, hero, and cohort of kings, my experiences and choices led down a different path. I did fight but not armies. I fought abuse, injustice, poverty, hatred, discrimination and despair. I started in the forces of the Establishment, the local and at times central government departments.
Now I tend to see these organisations as part of the problem. Their bureaucracy tending to extend hardship, restrict movement and stamp on motivation.
Now however I am restricted by health, mobility and funds. I fight my fight rarely on a face to face field of battle. My weapons now my words alone.
This is maybe always was where my destiny brought me. With my illness’ I cannot look back and think ‘what if’ for these conditions would likely have snook up on me whatever choices I made, whichever paths I travelled.
Regrets? …. too many to contemplate without a loss of whatever grip I have on sanity.
Future? ….. unwritten. I have to keep telling myself that.
Next?…… who knows



There is something primeval about lying naked upon your bed. Even though alone and with closed curtains it feels wrong but right. Good but bad.
Now I am not talking about sexual excitement. Though for some it may be a part. Its that feeling of non conformity. Of risk. Of what if…..
Freedom too plays a part. Free of pretence, being solely you. Being the vessel of your consciousness not the canvas of conformity.
There is little fashion or trend in nudity. Yes there are those with Tattoos, Piercings, and hair sculpture (or devoid of hair). And yes there are those that sculpt their bodies in the gym or with steroids and supplements.
But nudity relinquishes all other shrouds. Once naked there is just you. In your home that’s freedom but for me beyond my walls that freedom would become oppression. It would be my shame. My dread. Possibly my greatest fear.
Yet we are not born dressed. Naked is our natural state. Our true self. So why do it have any affect? Maybe its just me. Just my hang up?


I peer through the dark
Looking everywhere for that long lost spark
But all I can now see
Decaying old crone that once was she

The world moves on
I have no idea where my innocence has gone
When we used to hug
Was like getting fixed by the most potent drug

Why did the love vanish
All my emotion was suddenly hers to banish
Now feel so empty inside
Wish I had never found out that my mother lied

The screaming child
Cannot any longer be described as happy and wild
That part has but left
Of all emotion and warmth I now am totally bereft

Hope is no longer seen
Let them call me carrier of the fatalistic Judas gene
You see me as friend
But my loyalty I can promise is only ever on lend

Still blaming my past
Assuring you my mail and armour was built to last
No weakness on view
The creature named in revelations won my heart anew


She stands alone in this world of hate
She stare out beyond her now rusted gate
She remembers when the world seemed good
She now is existing in chaos and their blood

She remembers her lost husband and son
She remembers a happy life ruined by bomb and gun
She only has one path now left for her to strive
She has so little time if she is to remain alive


Having a camera inserted in your bum
I can confirm really is in no way any fun
But the day before sitting upon the throne
Means there’s little chance of leaving home

You mix the sachets in a glass litre jug
After an hour your face looks like a pug
Even andrex feels like its just course sand
Every time you wipe you’re cursing yer hand

They dope you up and wheel you in the room
A little tube yet it feels its a handle of a broom
That evil look on the face of your expert surgeon
After the drugs all the memories now are merging

Three weeks you wait just to get the information
Will you be told its just a bit of an inflammation
Its is the waiting that for me is absolutely the worse
So please accept my apology if i currently seem terse


Imagine how many particles of dust are in your room. Any room. I am lay on my bed in a room that’s about 18ft x 16ft.
Imagine that those dust particles did not settle upon your dresser, window ledges or floor but slowly spiraled around your room. Spiral upon spiral outwards.
Imagine if each particle was a sun. Each sun had a number of smaller particles circling it. Then you sort of get some idea of the immensity of our universe.
Imagine now one in a million of those particles circling the suns sustained life of some sort. How many would that be?
Imagine then firstly the question are we alone?
Imagine then how important are you? Am I? Any answer?
Well its possibly wrong. You likely are totally unique, you therefore are important. You are not just a particle of a particle on a particle. You are you. No one else can be you. No one else will ever be you.
The chances are you matter to more folk than you think. You may believe yourself to be a passing thought in the lives of others. You are wrong. You mean something to so many. The fact your reading this means you matter to me.
I may not know your name, we may never meet but we have now connected. That can never be changed. Your reading these words are now a fixed point in time. In existence. You matter. You matter to me. To your family. To your friends. And now to the cosmos.
If the universe was to end right now you connected, read and digested this. That may be forgotten but never changed.
Confused? Why?
You are reading a post called imagine. Use your imagination. By doing that you will get there. You will answer your questions. Not with my answers but those of your own invention.
Those answers will be your right answers.
Still confused? Well if you got to here you are thinking. If your thinking then you have achieved more than most.
Is this just twaddle? I don’t think so, do you? And why?
Thank you for reading, for connecting and for imagining.


Limbo is not for me but some state of mind
It is truly a realm in which one you shall find
Treading water as the pain washes like a tide
As it ebbs out exhaustion ensures I now hide

Looking forward to when this is but memory
A battle to be won or a continuation of agony
There are islands of sanctuary but they are rare
Once over this turmoil how will I then truly fare

I want to believe this will no longer define me
But can no more plan or have a future I can see
When not affected its hard to remember I am ill
Of this chronic illness I have had beyond my fill

The world

Friday 12th August 2016. Well it is if you adhere to the modern Roman Calender. If you don’t its now.
I feel devastated that people are dying across our world daily it seems, through war and terrorism, yet its only reported if they are ‘western’ in origin. Its as if you don’t live or get born into a ‘civilised’ (using that word deliberately as its how we in Britain are educated to think of the ‘Western’ nations even now) nation then your life is worthless.
We look at pictures of people in Africa dying in poverty, children starving to death, mass graves of Rwanda where their own leaders sanction mass murder and ethnic cleansing, Syria where our forces are bombing innocent people, killing thousands, we see these images and ignore them.
We trust our ‘leaders’ to do the ‘right’ thing. We believe ourselves to be the ‘goodies’ and all others the ‘baddies’.
We see people fleeing death whether through war, violence, famine or starvation as ‘dangerous’ the ‘enemy’ as desperate.
We know they are people, accept they bleed, feel and die, but do not believe they are the same as us. We believe they cannot love their kids, their partners, their parents in the same way as we do.
This used to be almost restricted to peoples skin colour but now with even European countries being in turmoil its anyone that hails from poorer countries. Whatever their colour, religion, culture or creed.
What you all seem to have forgotten however is how the world works. How things change with such rapidity. How we now are the fourth or fifth richest country, a hundred years ago we were the richest. Dubai was one of the poorest. 200yrs ago the USA was our colony.
Currently the UK has limited resources, little industry and our economy over the last 40yrs has been more and more made up of people selling off our assets to raise capital to then use that to speculate on international stock markets. We get involved in wars still for power (no longer called Imperialism but exactly the same just with less visible strings to our puppets).
We are not as a nation affable, friendly, pleasant, good, or often even right. We are oppressive, violent, greedy, corrupt, underhand, and pretty vile. I say we for it is ‘we’ that allow this to happen in our name. It is ‘we’ that ignore it, that turn away from the truth. We support these ongoing vile actions by our continued inaction.
Does your life matter more than that of a Syrian man? Only to you and yours. Do not think you really matter more to those that rule and lead our country. You do not. Your life only matters if you become a Public Relations issue.
Our leaders see you and me as we see those poor refugees, the see us as a herd, that they can graze upon to feed their wealth and power.
If you or your loved ones are poor, on a low wage, unemployed or disabled you already may suspect this. Programs on the Establishment owned TV channels like ‘Benefits Britain’ ‘Jeremy Kyle’……. the list goes on are designed to make the middle majority view the poor not as vulnerable human beings but as corrupt, wicked and lazy. A drain on the country. We are taught that the Elderly are not to be respected but once have stopped working are damaging our economy. We are told this by billionaires and believe it!
The real reality is life is life. If you are a human being you are the same as the next one. Whether you drive a Porsche or live on the streets your life should mean as much as anyone else’s. Sadly though we are not allowed to think that. We cannot teach that. We cannot promote that.
Difference in our world is wrong. Poverty is your own fault. People deserve to starve to death or die of hypothermia. If ‘we’ bomb them they are the evil ones whether they are trying to hurt us or just live.
That’s Western morality, your morality. Just think about it.