Assess Our Existance

Is it possible to assess our very existence

how does one person live an easy life?

Another suffers so much in a short space 

why one can struggle and totally succeed.

somebody else humanity easily slays

Maybe a higher power who with us plays.

   Does each one of us have our own destiny

a path that has been pre ordained?

Choices made are written to follow

we cannot change the designated path.

Some the road will be long and straight

others twisty with a solid locked gate.

    A few who enter the lotteries only once

becoming rich in a material way.

While most never get the numbers right

but must take their chances by work.

Or through other means to survive

somehow making it and will strive.

    Is it planned if each life is short or long

born in comfort or without anything.

Suffering untold discomfort always

on the other hand can life be random?

Situations changed given the chance

down to us to find the route to advance.

    Did god create us and give the scripts for us to learn

or the right elements united with no pious after burn?

    The Foureyed Poet.

The Soldiers

Fear gripped the soldiers more than ever before

not a nice place to be based they knew.

Three weeks on each had relaxed a little more

cheered up that their home leave was due.

No thoughts that danger was so very near

off guard a so-called friends aim was clear.

    Nobody had noticed he had left the patrol

who had removed body armour to eat.

From a high point fired showing his true role

as the unaware men were thrown off their feet.

Hit by ferocious bullets crashing to the ground

the killer escaped as comrades ran to the sound.

    Such pointless savagery of  immense human pain

more despair as young lives destroyed.

Worse as it was a man they trusted so insane.

a sleeper who had been covertly employed

Another war where the way had been lost

causing our troops an unacceptable cost.

    Never learning that war can never really be won

politicians sit back expecting their will to be done.

    The Foureyed Poet.

Disfigured

Vulnerable and young standing all alone

on the pavement in a busy street.

Tense after a long verbal bullying

the boyfriend was to dominate

Such a sweet person inside and out

seconds later her life was in doubt. 

    A hooded figure came quickly up to her

holding in outstretched arms a cup of fluid.

She stood unaware totally surprised

as he threw the liquid over her face.

instantly the searing pain started

from her life sanity had departed.

    She had thought why throw coffee at me

yet she knew it must be a type of acid.

As instinctively she ran into a shop

screaming for help her face on fire

collapsing determined not to expire.

   Rushed to hospital the skin just melting 

ambitions of become a model gone.

Fighting  to stay alive who could do this

but quickly a suspect was soon arrested

A drug addict paid to do the awful deed

for money to satisfy his personal need.

    No mercy or any remorse for this girl

her boyfriend wanted her really hurt.

Simply because she wanted to end it

being scared knowing he was violent.

Did he want her disfigured this way

so no other man would want to stay?

    With an iron will a great family and friends

now determined the nightmare ends.

But I look at life from an inner view

the person within is more true.

The Foureyed Poet.

 

Rods Friend Or Foe

What is around us that cannot be seen

as our sight has such a limited vision.

We are arrogant to think we are alone

a concept difficult for us to comprehend.

Do life forms called Rods occupy space 

here on earth is it also their home base?

    Moving rapidly we  are unable to see them

only on camcorders and fast shuttered cameras

Are they of this earth or of alien origin

it is claimed they can fly in outer space

In and out of tornados even storm clouds

freely in the forests and amongst the crowds.

    Some reckon they are merely birds or insects

though the shapes plainly do not match.

And not one has actually been caught

nor communication between us made.

Do these elusive entities or unknown forms

exist around us in clouds or storms?

    What forces encompass us that we do not know

are they real if yes are they friend or foe?

    The Foureyed Poet.

The Leaves Fell

The leaves fell more rapidly from the trees

the autumn season changes the scene.

Chilly long days and early darkness

accompanied by frosts and more rain.

With the winter standing by on cue

knowing the miserable weather is due.

    This for so long is how it has always been

but today the seasons are not so defined.

Milder conditions are more common

floods are a bigger risk than snow.

In the early sixties when I was a boy

each season marked then I did enjoy.

    Better when the weather seemed balanced

bad conditions came in the sequence.

Easier to plan holidays and events

as I recall it felt a settled time.

Now the climate is more unstable

 with the ever rising water table.

     A harsh and bleak future full of despair

lay ahead unless we quickly learn to care.

    The Foureyed Poet.

On That Morning

How the sun shone on that morning

a cold breeze surprised me.

The drone of early commuter traffic

as the thousands struggled to work.

 On this day making a different sound

as near me I noticed an earth mound

 

    It seemed a normal boring Monday

but within a chill did deeply dwell.

What was rising from beneath the soil

a slight tremor made me lose my balance

As another mound rose beneath my feet

splitting open releasing intense heat.

 

    A pungent steam started to pour out

luckily I was thrown some distance.

But my cat was close and lay not moving

as I gazed there was a cloud forming .

That moved towards the major road

when the air about me started to explode.

 

   In a state of shock I got up my arm hurt

it was like a battle ground yet no army.

Looking up the cloud was gathering pace

others now joined in total panic by me.

As the ground and air above became one

engulfed in fire all we could do was run. 

 

     Exhausted the crowds that had gathered

including myself came to an abrupt stop.

We had reached the now still motorway

the huge fire-ball followed close behind

Though houses and cars were ablaze 

all we could do was stand in a daze.

 

   But as the emergency services quickly arrived

the ferocity of the fireball began to subside.

The acrid smell swirled choking our lungs  

thanking our maker we had been spared.

There was a hush at this sudden event

was this by human hand or nature sent?

 

    Nobody had told us we lived on a land fill site

or why it had ignited one day at early light!

 

   The Foureyed Poet.

In The Chair

In the chair the old man sat shivering

hardly moving as he was so cold.

Nobody else lived with him now

this was a such a proud man.

At his age not wanting to fuss

yet felt guilty when he had to cuss.

 

    Even with the heating allowance

could not afford the rising bills.

Now in his eighties and very lonely

a retired soldier his mates now gone

And whose wife had died not long ago

fifty years together now time was slow.

 

    There in the house that filled his life

no children in all those years.

Was not what they had planned 

outside he could hear the noise.

Youngster who had plagued him

with no will life was now so grim.

 

    A tear fell onto his freezing hand

now with no will to carry on.

Looking around at familiar things

with a sigh his eyes closed .

A peaceful grin upon his face

joining his wife in that other place.

 

    Another human has gone on the long sleep

with nobody there for them to weep.

 

    The Foureyed Poet.

Each Person

Each person scurry’s about the streets

they have their own lives to lead.

In the best ways they can every day

with their own families and problems.

Like most focused wanting to survive

but some are struggling to stay alive.

 

    Watching with fascination drinking coffee

resting from the fast flowing traffic.

Not only on the roads but people going by

with different backgrounds and aims.

No trouble did I observe a sight to please

life moving along cultures and ages at ease.

 

    In the wider world why can we not integrate

as in the towns and cities to dissolve hate?

 

    The Foureyed Poet.

Though Love

Though love may have passed me by

one can only try to love others.

To show kindness and understanding

in a fellowship that cannot give pity.

Where little compassion has been shown

the perpetrators stand in the open alone.

 

    Man is a predator and has always been so

yet most comply with a code of care.

Learning to support those in real need

in communities in an ever shrinking globe.

Where in the end surely we are but one race

if not we shall disappear without a trace.

 

    There has always been good and evil amongst us

to find genuine concern and love must be a plus.

 

    The Foureyed Poet.

Deserted

In that deserted dank house is a dark secret

a despair that depresses the passersby.

No record of  how long it had been empty

silent and cold it was just rotting there.

The tension and hate permeated the air

rumours prevailed it was a witches’ lair.

 

    Simmering with a loathing and ritual sacrifice

these memories hidden and suppressed.

Waiting for the latent component to rekindle

to wreak havoc on the population once more.

Yet the witch hunter was a vital missing element

like the slayer was by the ancient elders sent.

 

    A few months later a young female abruptly awoke

from a strange dream that showed a house.

And with no fear she entered on her own

a glowing ring on her finger giving  power.

Before her figures like gnarled witches stood

cowering as she came in and she felt good.

 

   Perplexed by this unusual dream she sat up

aware she was not there alone anymore.

An elegant old lady spoke softly to her

telling her she was now the chosen one.

And handed the ring she had just seen

soon a teacher would be upon the scene.

 

    Again she sat up in bed had this been an illusion

then in her mind strange thoughts began to stir

On the index finger was the ring so much confusion.

getting up she knew many events would now occur.

 

    At that moment a man was walking up to the door

in the house scratching came from beneath the floor.

 

    The Foureyed Poet.