Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, lost, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

​Pinball Day

I feel like a pin ball, bounced into an arena where there are obstacles to trip and bounce you around, pounded from pillar to post not really knowing the host. Flashing lights make it seem so bright, but, when you bounce back its far from right. For a minute you are winning and all your points start to add up, then you realise you are sold a pup, your are catapulted back up the board to where you started. 
Progress is slow, why don’t they know, when you get to the end the barriers won’t let you go cos they only throw and give you a new way to go. Then in a hole, trying to get out and even then you get ejected with naught. 

Then hit the wall and hope you fall in the right place, it’s a disgrace, concentration on their face you are just part of the rat race, never able to play an ace. Points racking up stroke of luck gets you out of the muck, then straight down the middle into a hole to be catapulted straight back out, with a clout, you want to shout, to do it all over again. It’s always the same totally insane. 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Watching You

I see you from afar and wonder how you are. I try to catch your eye so you know that I spy, the shimmer of your hair catches my eye and your image occupies my head as I lie in bed. I want to say hello but the rejection I just dread. I wonder if you are happy or long for someone close to share all your days and make memories you value the most. 

I see your body tattooed and very slim, is thinking about you really a sin? I want to see you on summer days and walk with you in the sun’s haze, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and be glad I’m here. I want to feel your body the soft warm skin,  the tremor of your pulse as our love sinks further in. I see your face absent of a grin, and wonder what is within. 

Let me hold your hand and walk with you bare foot on warm sand. Let me enrobe you in my arms and smother you with tickets and charms, when you panic and cry let me bring calm, to wipe away your tears and whisper I love you in your perfect ears. 

But I am scared to say how I feel in case you laugh and think that I am daft. Opening up my heart has never been my craft. But if I catch your eye and you see my smile so Rye then know I really want to say I want you to come out and stay. If you find this poem and think it’s all about you, only you know what you must really do. And if you feel the same as I do, then pop over and tell me that you really do. 

Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, bomb, Boots, death, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Boots in the Hood

Boots on the ground soldiers deployed in towns, to stop the bombers coming around. Police with guns protecting kids and dads and mums. No need to run more boots can come patrolling in the mid-day sun.

Their uniform pristine and green, berets black, Red and green. Loaded guns rarely seen, urban warriors fit and lean. Preventing terror from those who are keen. Film scene comes to be, will it work? we will see. At least we can still be you and me.

Spectre of death fading breath, parents bereft nothing left where their children stood, just guns and boots in a neighbourhood, turn back time they wish they could stop the disease, that murders with ease here at home and overseas.

Stiff upper lip, though it stings like a whip, this disease spreading drip by drip. Solid lives can’t be destroyed by bombs or knives cos our bond is strong like man and wife. To stop us living free, you will have to take every life. Cos, we will fight to the end and will not bend, but will defend this way of life from low life and scum, we will never succumb, if there is a beat in our heart you will never tear us apart, we will fight you with all our lion heart.

 

 

 

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bomb, bullying, chocoholic, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

The River

Rushing, charging, bumbling liquid, cutting through mountain rock, stealing the natural minerals. Rolling down the valley leaves it’s source to wind it’s course like a knight on a horse. Wet, white water sandwiched in banks of lush green, picture post card scene. Cutting the valley rock by rock thousands of years through the valley it hops.

Then slowly, the might of the water diminishes as the river is calmed by the rocks, running clear across its bed. See the fish and insects swim as people paddle and soak their limbs. Children with bandy nets play on the rocks , in shorts and swim suits no shoes and socks. Pushing and splashing feet thrashing. Cold water refreshing the skin in this paradise we are in.  Sheep creeping to the waters edge, eating grass and veg. 

Woollen coats hang from their back legs to their throats ready for shearing, drinking in the clearing. Couples sit on deckchairs and blankets picnic baskets, sandwiches hand picked. Lunch by the river tranquil space. Beautiful river paradise place. Feel the cold of the water on my hands and face where the rivers slows to a gentle pace. 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bomb, bullying, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Bomber

Why do you kill hurt and maim, it’s not done in my name, making children die and families cry, so you can be a martyr up in the sky? Yet you are fake, you need a shake, there is no excuse to cause a wake. No motive, no greed, just false belief that makes lives so brief, you can’t justify and live a lie, why should innocents die?

Children sing and dance and have a good time, but you sir are no martyr, you just commit crime, you murder young people then kill yourself, a coward, a cheat a killer by stealth. It’s all about your beliefs and yourself, you are not worthy of death, you are like bad breath, floating away after the main play, not stopping to see the pain.

You are not insane, they have washed your brain to make you think its ok to cause death and pain, for the many people you have slain. So many times, we see this act and here the excuses how lame. But on your family, on your country and on you, you have brought only shame.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, love, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Little Boy Soldier

Little boy soldier what have they told ya? Kalashnikov on your shoulder, ten or eleven not much older. Did they tell you that you might die and stop you from having a cry and did they tell you the truth about why? It won’t hurt you won’t die and if you do you will be a martyr up in the sky, carrying a gun makes you bolder even though you might not get older.

Why must you die living a lie, no chance to give peace a try. No emotion, no regret, just hardened beliefs kept. Little boy soldier, this gun is no toy it will only kill and destroy men or little boys, it doesn’t care which at the flick of a switch. Running with the boys playing big boys games little boy soldiers a country’s shame

Little boy soldier huge weight on your shoulders, does your mum approve, what have they told her? Where will you go when they come for you? Can you kill them before they get you? Little boy soldier lay down your guns until you are older and can take the burden on your shoulders. Go home to mum while she can still hold ya. Tell her you don’t want to be a little boy soldier marching around with a gun on your shoulder. Never again do you want to see men die, without a tear coming to your eye. Little boy soldier please please cry and ask this cruel world why?

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, chocoholic, chocolate, flash fiction, love, pig, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Chocolate

Smooth as silk, sugar and milk. Cold from the fridge melt in the heat, feels good to eat. Melt on the fingers, in the throat it lingers. Addictive a fix a heady mix, little parcels, slabs or sticks. Milk, white and dark it all creates a spark. Cooking or spreading or grating chocolate heaven.

It’s the quick snack or even a six-pack. The box that nan sent as the present, full of coloured centres packed in little trays, it only lasts a couple of days. Chocolate changes your mood a real comfort food, to refuse would be rude. Belgium Swiss and American to, which one are you? Nuts and caramel Turkish delight, soft centre or hard one is just right, heavy and light.

Eat in the day or the middle of the night any time it’s just right, in it’s wrapper bold and bright. Chocolate cake and brownies too maybe even a chocolate fondue. Take it in a picnic on a visit to the zoo, send to your beau to say I love you, special occasions or just cos you’re bored, chocoholic many bars you hoard. If you have a spat or even loose the cat, getting yourself in a right state chocolate is your soul mate.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, flash fiction, lost, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Teenage Gangsters

Hanging around on street corners with you fighting hound. Looking for an incentive to maim and pound as your mates all gather round. Bandana over your face, hood up to hide as you know you are a disgrace. You want to rule your turf think you are in charge on this earth.

You are no Gangster or a prankster you are just a thug, being a mug. Uncover your face and show us your case and get your life up to pace. If you were a real Gangster you would be dead a bullet through your head.

You pick on the vulnerable, to make you look big, hoping people will fear you in the black gear. Distribute drugs for dealer thugs and skinning up to keep up. Off your face with drugs and drink you start trouble before you blink. Cannabis makes you stink, you’re not the hard Gangster that you think.

Teenage wannabee, laughing at authority, hanging with your mates seeking your own fates. Knives in pockets, killing is a badge of honour, then pop another pill you can’t cope with the thrill. Up in court tell them you snort and that’s why you don’t behave as you ought. Sent to prison your esteem has risen. Now you think you are a proper Gangster but soon find in prison you are a little boy, just their toy. Don’t cry for your mum cos she can’t come to your defence, you won’t repent until a real Gangster makes you heaven-sent.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Whisper

Whisper in your ear, hoping you might hear, smelling your perfume as I enter the room, holding you close to make the most. Again, I whisper, I love you, in your ear, deep in sleep I hope you subconsciously hear.

Watching every breath you take and count the ones that are fake, watch your chest rise and fall, I so want you all. I watch you turn, squirm and wriggle, in a dream you let out a giggle. I put my arm over your shoulder and cuddle in tight, spooning in the middle of the night. 

I whisper again as I feel your silk skin, you just fart and pull a grin. I pull you further in, feeling the warmth of your body, intertwined body and mind. Creating heat from heads to our feet, drifting in and out of sleep. 

Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story

Shadow Land

When I am alone, in the crowd, I feel the black dog come down from the shadow land. It’s shadow moves with slight of hand, doesn’t leave a foot print in the sand.

Depression grips and rips and tares, when the shadow land comes to bare, to cloak you in fear and anxiety, never leaving you to just be. The shadow land is in your head, where awful things happen and you always dread. Shadow lands, where no one is friendly and won’t hold your hands. Where deep fear is cast along the ground and hurt lays all around, where hearts never mend and dreams bend and the shadow land never ends.

The medication drops and the alcohol pops to hide you from the shadow land. No one sees, no one hears you are the one with the keys. On your knees a broken man in the shadow lands.