Manufactured Entertainers

The number grows each year of hopeful entrance

into the fray to become a singing star.

Each declaring their dream hoping for that chance

to be the chosen one the winner and go far.

Manufactured entertainers manipulated used

often living in fantasy land exhausted confused.

    Few really make it to that life changing top spot

thinking their talent is of  such a high grade.

Often short lived as the judges tell them their not

shattering their dreams their faults displayed.

The knowing Judges and public voting them out

as the numbers dwindles those left start to doubt.

     Pressure must build many first time in public gaze

each have their supporters wanting them to win.

Millions watching raking in that money all in a daze

a contract and million pound prize keep the grin.

Remember only one person can take that accolade

can their future stardom and gamble be made?

    Some manufactured stars do succeed it is true

but what of those who are left dumped and blue.

And the talent that struggles by their own endeavour

who may never with these shows be spotted ever?

    The Foureyed Poet.

The Unseen Enemy

Gone the battlefield head on collisions

when the enemy had clear markings.

Meeting on open ground for the clashes

progressing from there onto the streets.

but now are no longer easy to identify

 today whose next to you when you fly? 

    The unseen enemy is covertly on the prowl

nobody is safe any more the rule book gone.

Single minded in the ultimate aim to destroy

with no compromise in the task to execute.

Maybe there is a real argument on both sides

but to kill in a mindless fashion just divides.

    Atrocities never cease and fills all history

so much misery which creates more evil.

Along side the endless natural disasters

leading to our race  being totally erased.

Can sanity be found before that final game

in the foretold end everybody is the same.

    The unseen enemy this new phase in terror

scary times when there’s no room for error.

We need a higher power to save our skins

bring peace and absolve the multitude of sins!

    The Foureyed Poet.

What Was That

What was that sound I could not place

was it a soft gentle voice calling.

Somebody I knew many years in my past

memories began to flood back so happily.

Cherished moments that only we hold dear

the bad to forget the good to bring cheer.

   Whose voice was it  that I could not place

it bothered me as the veil was still clouded.

Walking on somebody stood  just ahead

and the image of stunning beauty waited.

Shimmering in a ghostly form was she real

my terrified attitude was hard to conceal.

   But as I drew nearer I did recognise her

that bright smile greeted my eyes.

A female friend I had not seen for a decade

ran up to me to give a surprised hug.

How we talked and reminisced on the past

when life was furious hard and fast.

    Elation filled me to meet her once again

putting my problems into a distant place.

Yet something tingled my nerves as we spoke

looking so perfect with no physical change

Then as incredibly as she had appeared

sweet Jaylee had simply disappeared.

    From that day I could never be the same

that strange day when Jaylee came.

    The Foureyed Poet.

I Could Not Believe

I could not believe it when I walked in on you

how glad I did not let you know I was home.

In my mind our relationship was sound

maybe a little foolish thinking back now.

But still a shock to see you laying there

not me by your side I could only stare.

    A woman layed close to you was hard to take

bad enough you had cheated on our marriage.

But to find my rival was your best friend

certainly was something not expecting to see.

I had to get out away from that scene

realising how much you were cruel and mean.

    I am not a prude a new love can easily happen

and our relationship maybe it was not the best.

Even so I had a deep feeling of betrayal

that I could not have retained any hope.

The only plus no kids needing explanation

your choice made I left without hesitation.

   Though I moved out I wished you no ill will

knowing deep inside I loved you still.

    The Foureyed Poet.

Security

How secure do you feel on public transport

as the risk of injury is rapidly increasing.

What is safe anymore where hatred grows

that innocent looking person sitting by you.

Maybe the one with a bomb or other devise

intent on killing anybody at any price.

    There is nowhere safe it seems to me today

as the risk of flying goes beyond the cost.

Security is endlessly being changed or updated

nobody can predict what will happen next.

Confidence is down to zero level as we hear

known suspects not shadowed roaming clear.

    A silent war of wits putting everybody in danger

it should be realised they are not fools.

Most want to live without violence and in peace 

life is a gamble this we have to accept.

But when there are those with one single thought

it must be a hard solution that must be sought.

    True no time in history has there been total unity.

The Foureyed Poet.

Reflect

Do you ever reflect over your past year

look back with dread at the errors.

The decisions that you really regret

and are unable to change back.

Wishing if only I had said it that way

or done it differently but no replay.

    Often we make our decisions in a flash

not thinking them out properly.

That idea that sounded so good at first

could be a nightmare for evermore.

 Wishing we could change every mistake

thinking your sanity could be at stake.

    But as we know our past cannot be relived   

with just a single chance to get it right.

Looking forward must be our only saviour

in an existence that can be hard to face.

As a new year rapidly comes round again

we may win or face the wrath of pain.

     I certainly have made mistakes gone too far

that I bitterly regret now a permanent scar. 

    The Foureyed Poet.

Was That A Whisper

Was that a whisper in my left ear

surely not or I would be going mad.

I could not shake that feeling

somebody was right behind me.

Why did I decide to walk this way

how my body felt like wet clay.

    Turning quickly nothing was about

walking on it was a bright morning.

The only sound my laboured breathing

just then I came to a fork in the path.

Did I see a figure hanging in a tree

glancing again there was nothing to see.

    Another faint whisper sounded in my ear

yet still nobody was anywhere about.

Fretting now which path should I take

disorientated in an unfamiliar  landscape.

Again a tap on my shoulder I was scared

for this day I was not at all prepared.

    What seemed like hours passed as I stumbled

never for a second feeling I was alone.

The path widened out and I heard traffic

 the noise brought me out of my daze.

Standing on a pavement I turned around

but it had changed it was a fairground.

   How could I have walked through the land

yet only a minute before there I did stand.

 I stared in doubt a shadow passed my vision

was it real or fantasy an impossible decision.

    Just a walk in the woods that was my plan!

The Foureyed Poet.

Private Policing

Massive cuts in national policing budgets

could lead to a private police force.

Security is a money making industry

those with the cash fear the risk of  robbery.

But are ready and are willing to pay

to keep their possessions tucked away.

    Resources being stretched to the limit

as companies use more private firms.

To protect their many assets with vigor

too much expected of the police force

Not just the familiar bobby on the beat

a fading image with fewer on the street.

     Soon not just on the movie screens

policing could rely on what you pay.

No longer a public service for us all

 bosses would have another agenda.

A time to worry about our survival

lets hope that day is a non arrival.

    In reality the private sector is here

    fulfilling a need they say is clear.

The Foureyed Poet.

On That Christmas Day

On that Christmas day they walked

a young couple toiling with cases.

Worried as they had been evicted

from their privately rented flat.

The girl pregnant with good intent

together without parental consent.

    It was very early dark and lonely

shivering  hugging to keep warm.

Lost and with nowhere to stay

as their gaze was drawn to a light.

A glowing beam right in their vision

forlorn head towards it the decision.

    It was an arc light on a building site

glancing up it made them squint.

How it looked like a bright star

below was an entrance to a hostel.

A kind manager invited them in

seeing the girl now grimacing.

     Thankful somebody had shown mercy

at this moment her waters broke.

But there was no room in  the place

only a cupboard with a chair and table.

An ambulance was urgently called

but the baby could not be stalled.

   A mattress found for mary to lay on

where her baby son was born.

A box found with clean blankets

to let this tiny child rest for a while.

The proud parents sat close in awe

as the medical crew came in the door.

   Their breath taken away at the sight

a man with his dog looked on.

The caretaker offering blankets stared

as a passerby with a hiking stick.

was kneeling with tears of joy.

shouting out it is a baby boy.

   Somehow the outside lighting

created a strange angelic glow.

It felt they were in the presence 

of a special event in the modern day

Reluctantly disturbing the scene

wrapping the infant feeling mean.

    The family were taken to hospital

where everything was fine.

Parents had been informed

as the couple began to bond.

Just as the first light appeared

the child opened its eyes and peered.

    There must be hope within our hearts

maybe with faith the path to unity starts.

A Very Happy Christmas And A Great New Year.

The Foureyed Poet.

Corrupt

We live in a totally corrupt

and one sided society.

With money doors will open

without they shut in your face.

A price for everything even air

nobody now wants to share.

    Corruption is common now

as it has always been.

An established part of culture

from small  time crooks.

To the threats and intimidation

of those creating damnation.

    Where does it stop when it’s rare

to distinguish the divide.

Corruption creates more  money

as the honest struggle to combat.

With a high cost for protection

becoming an incurable infection.

   Corruption has no barriers or preferred takers

each of us susceptible to the money makers.

    The Foureyed Poet.