Billy’s blowing a gale, as the smoke exhales, eyes redder than a matadors muleta

It’s weed for breakfast again,

Egg, bacon, beans, tea & weed

As he leans out of his window blowing, choking the delicate air

He doesn’t want to go to work, but to smoke it all day & recline in his favourite chair

He can think of nothing else, it’s on his mind all day long;

He says he needs it at night to sleep

He says he needs it because his Nanna died only last week

He says he needs it as he looks out of the window & sees its Grey depressing and bleak

He says he needs it because,

Well just because

The weed choked out life & everything good around it

Bill didn’t notice the python of paralysis that he had unleashed

As it wrapped around him, & slowly squeezed

He knew he needed to quit even if not for himself, but daddy’s little daughter

Billy do you remember when;

Bill you used to go out, you used to have dreams

Bill you used to go running even in the burning heat

You used to play football, taking on players Maradona skills with both feet

Do you remember Billy the freedom you felt?

Billy another decades gone times not slowing

Bill I’m here if you need me, but I can’t force you to quit…

Bill, Bill, Billy!

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

Gold Plated C63 AMG II

Abu Dhabi plates on a gold plated Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG

They thought the money would last so they spent it as fast as it came

They wanted all the adulation & the fame

In the quest for money some were driven insane

Never grasping the mirages that they craved

The successful wanted the oil to forever rain, but the refinery dried up,

Abrakadabra!

Oil gone, along with the rabbit into the hat and that was the end of that.

Stephen Poch

Ruthless Caravaggio Cut

stephenpoch.com

I Dreamt Of….

I watched a Francis Bacon documentary & that night I dreamt of horrors & death

I looked upon a John Constable painting & I had imaginations of clouds & sky’s

I gazed into an oil painting by Turner & had visions of mist & Carthage & Venice & Rome

I watched a Carravagio & thought about how my life would end.

I saw a Monet all colourful & true and wanted to visit Giverny & see the same view

I viewed a John Singer Sargent & immediately felt like I knew the lady in the black velvet dress

I stared into a Morris & Co. tapestry woven In thread & wanted to join the knights upon their quest

I touched Van Gogh’s Starry night in the Muse D Orsay & was chased out by security into the streets

I looked up & saw Michelangelo’s Sistine chapel ceiling & wanted to be in the clouds with God

I studied a Renne Magritte & wanted to live in his mysterious world

I was enthralled by Degas ballerinas’ & wanted to see them dance

I was immersed In Cezzannes’ landscapes of France

I fell in love with an Alfred Munnings & wanted to camp with the gipsies by the side of the river

I viewed a Joseph wright of Derby & felt like I was looking into a mirror.

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

All At Once

Rash spread all over my legs, running up to my chest,

Red specks creeping up to my neck

Heavy breathing, feeling like I’ve been bitten by thousands of ants

All At Once

My knees cartilage worn down nothing now, but bone grinding on bone

Pain so bad letting out groans

My will won’t allow my body to quit

A flame within from eternity’s beginning lit

All At Once

My backs pain so bad that the codeine doesn’t numb the pain

A rod of iron that won’t bend, placed along my spine

I try & carry on as if everything’s fine

You prepare a table before my enemies where I dine

Your first miracle you turned water into wine

Nerve pain in my tooth so excruciating

As if a gremlin lives in it stabbing it with knives, daggers & needles

Leaving me in my human frailty feeling so feeble

Lord free me from this evil

All At Once

Blindness trying to creep into my eyes,

The darkness closing in if not for these drops

Lord don’t let the light go out

Illuminate my path on life’s journey

The city’s lights a towering backdrop

As the curtains close may you say well done good & faithful servant

Enter my rest & sup from my cup

The holy grail at the end of my quest.

Stephen Poch

London City

stephenpoch.com ‎

Sparking A Revival

Abundant gardens

Lavish lawns

Cedars of Lebanon

Colours of vermillion

Singing birds

Golden ratio of two thirds

Ionic columns

Funeral cortège looking solemn

Fierce ice & frost

Freezes water where

Underneath fish swim

The worlds light grows dim

As heavens is illuminated by God

Potters jars smashed

With Yahwehs rod

To establish order upon the earth

Sparks fly out beyond the hearth

Sparking a revival

Spreading out to every village, town and city

Lives changed from dark to light

Ever so quickly

Even shadows heal the dead & the sickly

Eternity come quickly.

Amen

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

Four Brothers Walked In A Field In France

Four brothers walked in a field in France

One of them threw a World War One grenade he found by chance

It danced in the air as it fled from his hand

And landed in the heart of a clearing in a wood

It rolled until it stopped near two lovers kissing amongst the meadow grass

The grenades fuse was still active, the consequence so savage

It blew up and their bodies were ravaged

Shrapnel tore through their organs

Declaring them dead at the scene

A scene obscene, because one brother threw a grenade by chance

As four brothers walked in a field in France

The war to end all wars or so they thought.

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

Bluebells & Wild Garlic

I run in woods with bluebells and wild garlic

I run in forests where the mighty English oak reside

I run along the beach at the morning tide

I run in foreign distant lands where sands pass between clasped hands

Time passing fast as my pace quickens

I will finish this race stronger than I start

Blood flowing through all of my veins out of my heart my mouth speaks

Dig in lad I say to my inner spirit as this hill seeks to crush my spirit

In the final mile I give all I have and finish in style, Roger Bannister sprint finish, arms raised, Hallelujah!

Well done good and faithful servant you’ve finished the race.

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

I Desire

I desire to run in the morning dew

I desire to run when the mornings new

I desire to run by the streams & pools blue

I desire to run in the cool of the forest

I long to run with mist rising in Florence

I must run to the hills of Judea before the apocalypse.

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

Depression

The cloud of depression is upon me I am in want

It holds me close and leads me beside stormy waters

It exhausts my soul

It promises to leave, but never does

It clings to me like a lover, but never loves

Stephen Poch

Ruthless Caravaggio Cut

stephenpoch.com

ZEAL FOR YOUR TEMPLE

Zeal for your temple has filled my cup. Overflowing lava

Forming molten rock

Which I stack as a monument to God

Of His goodness all the days of my life,

Where in his house for the rest of eternity

I will reside, but before then my flesh must die.

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

In These Terribly Icy Streets - Death

In these terribly icy streets

knives are out

Rampaging gangs

Voices of violence

Creeping quiet

The web of death

As the victim breathed his last

Then silent

Daggers drawn

Searing heat

No peace

No let up from the violence

It doesn’t cease

Shotgun barrels shortened

Faces forlorn

Wounds inflicted

Street battles fought

Unprotected flesh torn

Widows faces veiled

Black attire

Funerals filled

Weeping

Black horses

Hoofs clopping

With only increase

The graves lay in wait

No signs of stopping

Until love conquers hate

As all over the city

Body’s are shot down

Stabbed in alleyways

Dots on a map

Black balaclavas

Body bags zipping

Up

Every hour

Dropping

Sadly at the minute

Apathy remains

The season of death

Unchanged

Until with one voice

The whole country unifies

Shouting “Enough is Enough

Is Enough!”

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com

The Developer

The owl sat above his beloved woods

But the developer didn’t give two hoots,

It was the developers to pillage & loot

To tear down strong trees,

That had stood true to their roots

He had already looted a woodland glade

Two miles away, but his insatiable appetite

Was hungry & did not fade

So he decided to tear another woodland down

Chainsaws squealing an awful sound

The trees were felled amongst the hot days haze

& their carcasses burnt to ashes grey & soft

No one to collect them in Urns

Only now to be food for the remaining ferns

The developer changed his mind as to the location of this plot & thought he had found a better spot

So the second woodland was torn down in vain

But the developer didn’t care that no trees remained

He had left an invisible stain

That even torrential rain couldn’t wash away.

Stephen Poch

stephenpoch.com