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

Aftermath

No homes, no aid from a government decayed, food and clothes and shelter a community has paid, where was the establishment to come to their aid, to put lives back together, they lost everything they made. Ten pounds per person, the insult worsens, where is the money donated by other human persons?

A room for the night warm and safe, is that too much to ask; when if you miss a holiday flight, hotels abound; four hundred people with nowhere to live, the irony is profound. The scandal of abandonment, leave them to rot, community cohesion has decided not. Government officials make their excuses home they go to a warm bed and behave like recluses, there are no reasonable excuses.

Subclass comes to the for rocking the country to its core, too big a gap between rich and poor, all because you draw the short straw. Victorian values heaped on the poor. This should not be happening not even in war what do we pay or taxes for. Kill all the subclass make them weak, don’t give them houses they desperately seek. Rich man’s world turned upside down by a blaze in a block on the other side of town.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

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

Do I ?

Do I live in your heart or is it just a resting place, just at the start? Do I flow through your body as a life force weaving its certain course, showing no remorse? Do I beat in time with you and in your body, meet? Do you breathe me in, taste me just like gin, bath in me till I’m in every hollow, in me do you wallow?

Do I flicker in your head before you go to sleep in bed, thoughts that stay with you moving through your body free falling like lead? Do I slide under your skin coating your body with a layer so thin? Do I sit within your ear silently, do you hear me and do you see me through those eyes, through those salty tears stored up through the years?

Do I come to you at night when your fears come out to play, or will you choose to face them alone and push me out the way? Will, I be in your soul when you face the hardest days and will that soul let me roll around in your haze, bringing peace and harmony when you are in a daze? Will you take all of me, not just what you see, and spread me around yourself like a suit of armour made to protect your health? When the day is long and life is but a bore will you call my name, asking of me for more?

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

Past Midnight

Past midnight when noises are impolite and horror and doom loom in every sight. Past midnight when some are waiting for their plight, many will give up the long fight. Past midnight the darkest sight room lit atmospheric hit. Rolling clouds and tightening shrouds, owls and foxes shout aloud.

Shivers run down your spine, checking around to see what you can find, hoping you get back home just fine. Past midnight, the haunting time, when memories and thoughts combine, helping to pass the time. Clock flicks around in blurred glow, watching midnight come and go. Past the witching hour when ghosts and devils scour and the new darkness devours, lying awake listening to cracks and bumps until the small hours.

Heart races, imagined faces, mysterious places, longing to make it to morning, you try to stop yawning wishing the day was dawning. The shadows shrink and slowly nighttime sinks and devils and ghosts are a distant memory, to which you play host. Relief at the sun, night thief, darkness retracting its teeth to leave the joy of a new day to dance and jump and play. But, you know the darkness is all but finished and has only temporarily diminished, for tonight the darkness will return and in your mind, you will burn

 

 

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

Celestial Strobe

Full moon against the black sky nature telling us lies, no wolves cry, just a bright moon against Black sky. Rippling shadows across the orb, light in the clouds to absorb, celestial strobe, large lobe glows in the night. Visions of light and sensory masters, fragile moon hanging so bright without the hindrance of street lights.

Orb of wonder shining in sun’s slumber, black velvet backdrop, secrets not unlocked. Cratered moon come visit again soon, shine your light on the canvas of night until you sleep in broad daylight, crouching down out of sight turning out your precious light.

Oh, precious moon have you taken flight, now you hang out of sight, will you be back to beam your light. Will you come to cast shadows of night, running across the sky showing your nocturnal flight. Light up the dark glow like a spark to eat through the black on your long night hack.

Stars a twinkle in your mighty presence, specks of light candle bright, floating at death defying height. Through the cloud and thick night sky, their lights with yours they vie, like the sky is starting to cry, daring us to see what we can spy, picture framed by the night sky.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Published in the  first edition of Hidden Constellation August 2017

 

 

 

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

UFO

Bright lights in the sky, wondering why, strange globes in the night travel at speed at a height. They are not a plane or helicopter, silent glow slows to a potter, then up and down like a yoyo they go, where they are from we don’t know.

They come in peace to explore our planet, landing on sea sand or granite, governments stay tight lipped, not letting the truth slip. Is it a space ship or just a balloon, they are scared that they will spread doom? Scorch marks on the ground, all around, never say what they have found, is it real or a sinister deal? Government project that may become real.

Orbs in the night hanging like a kite, they are not from this planet but then they might. What will they learn about us, do they discern, up in the sky, making sharp turns, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Why do they come here? I wish I knew why, maybe, it’s the government hoping no one will pry, as they engineer a super craft and start to test fly?

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

My Colour Pallet

My pallet is full of colour, some very bright and some very pallor. My colours show up every day, come rain or shine, sometimes murky and sometimes divine, all the colours are all mine. Some come through and really shine, when life is treading the right line, showing up like spring time. Sometimes they arrive on their own, sometimes with other colours they rhyme, fighting to decide which one is prime.

Some colours of mine are dark and mysterious, washing out the colour, leaving a murky wash where light no longer shines bright, blending into the night hiding the beauty out of sight, sometimes it spoils the mood, other times it sits just right. On the page, the colours fight to make it clear who is right.

My colours are a wonderful sight, blinding bright, then fading with the light. People debate which colours they like and which colours blight. For some the bright is always right and what they want to have always in sight. For others, the darker greys and murky haze is what they see every day, even when my blues fade away. All my colours are here to stay, changing place day by day, I can’t choose how they lay, but, if you don’t want to see all my pallet my picture is not for you, so go away and find a pallet anew.

 

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Anger Cage

Soft and gentle as a lamb kind to women and any man, do no harm conscience alarm. I won’t do you any harm, I will lead you with grace and charm. I will do good and help you be understood, help kids grow up into adult hood.

But burning inside of me, just waiting to be unlocked like a spring, is an anger that I can no longer anchor. An anger buried deep within it won’t let anyone in, but it’s bubbling and wants to burst out of the tin it’s safely in. Defensive tactics to bodyguard this feeling, let no body open the tin.

Pent up Inside, wanting to go and hide, I want to release this anger into a whirlwind. Let it out of its cage feel the full rage, hurt and destroy not with my emotions toy, I want to treat them like they treat me I want to set my anger free.

Eating a hole inside of me struggling to be and wanting to get free, I hold it down like some sort of crown yet the result is always the same, it’s the way I play the game. Yet if i set my anger free and brought those haters to their knees what shame and blame would be brought on me, if only they could see.

My wild side I continue to hide and carry on swimming against the tide, made to feel my anger should hide and take everything in my stride. So, if you one day find an empty cage that’s battered and broken and frayed, look for my anger as it will have escaped. Look over your shoulder and inside your soul, cos my anger, through you, might be taking a stroll. And if you find it roaming around, replace it in the cage without a sound or my anger will be back around.

 

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

Spider’s Web

Tangled up in a spider’s web, not knowing how to break free, never knowing why me. Hating myself and feeling so weak, nobody listens when I try to speak. Assertiveness doesn’t work everyone thinks I’m just a berk. Telling me what they gonna do and expect me to say I love you. I rue the day I had to send you away but we had tried and stood by you, come what may. But being abused by you every day was something I could not cope with on any day. You pushed to the limit, no one could win it.

Memories rekindled, life running on a spindle, memories I did not want to have, you were acting like a chav, no life did we have. Pushing buttons to get the rise, you couldn’t see the pain in my eyes. You blame me for your situation, yet you never learned, we all tried to help you but discerned, as every relationship you burned.

Threats of violence persist as though you have stuck me with a knife and continue to twist. Now you hate me, yet you say you still want to see. Getting your act together, yet you never want to change. Your life went downhill, I had no magic pill, now I just had to stop you getting killed.

When you have changed and got back on track, then I will consider asking you back, but if you show me no respect then you know what to expect. For we are kin through and through and I never stopped worrying about you. Oh, how I wish we were not caught in this spider’s web.

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

Summer Nights

Summer night, gentle light stroking breeze, breeze summer ease. Garden lounge, friends around, fluffy clouds. Birds singing upon the wing and chirp with glee amongst the trees

Children in the distance, play all day finding each other and running away. Smell of cut grass, pollen and rape seed, soon for us to feed, silver lights cross the sky, planes carrying passengers and cargo way up high.

Lowering sun casting shadows across houses trees and meadows. Long drinks in gardens green, looking out over tranquil scenes.

 

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

King

King on a mountain surveying the plains, there stood a proud creature with long main and a hunting brain, watching for pray observing how they feed and lay. King of stealth of freedom to reign to roam the vast plain. Don’t lock him up in a cage so small, in isolation no pride at all.

Laying in the mid-day sun, cubs playing rolling jumping running; learning to use their cunning. The lion watches the zebra drink at the water hole his eyes fixed on the heady mix, food to keep them nourished, to help the pride live and flourish.

Up on his paws stretch those long sharp claws, breath he draws. The king starts to charge grabs a zebra left at large, pack descend on the wild prey eating and fighting in the heat of the day, vultures circle waiting for their place in the chain.

Leave this majestic beast roaming the plains protect from hunters, their fate is a shame