Poetry -Audio ,easy listening.
A poem I wrote about our cenotaph , every town in Britain has one of these grisly reminders to the great war and then ever war there after .A first they were a pilgrimage for the patriotic to come and almost worship their glorious dead but now they're used by so many different swathes of society as a place to rebel,then there's the drunks and drug addicts who seem to favour and gravitate towards these ancient monuments almost similar to those druids of who worship the circle of Stonehenge. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A short song I wrote about the monster munch crisps as a love song I did it whilst riding aboard a train the 11.34 from Bicester to London Marylebone station 12.38 recorded in two takes outside McDonald's in double quick time. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A song I wrote to commemorate the courage of Christine, the first transgender beauty queen who, back in 1953, bravely decided to have her gender reassigned to its rightful sexuality, in order that she might be set free from the burden of living with her very unwanted masculinity. But it would be a long journey from the first roll of that snowball before the LGBTQ+ community finally made their stand for equality at the pub we now know as Stonewall. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A comprehensive piece discusses the mercenaries known as the "Dogs of War" who engage in conflict for financial gain across the globe. Africa has long struggled with the presence of such militants, and even today, they continue to sow chaos worldwide, including in regions like Israel, Palestine, Russia, and Ukraine. These "Dogs of War" are hired by numerous superpowers, and their growing numbers have started to turn against those who once trained and supported them – including countries such as America, Russia, Iran, and Saudi Arabia, among others. In fact, all major powers have played a sinister role in funding these private armies to carry out their covert operations. The unfortunate consequence is that these mercenaries consistently choose Africa as their battleground. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
From Bonaparte to Lionheart from the mayflower to the superpower all Nations have produce refugees at one time or another we're all to blame for this ever increasing burden of shame --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A eulogy I wrote for a dear friend of mine who to me will always be the last bohemian fugitive, an artist for more than 65 years a very impressive figure who change my life for the better with his mindful mentoring. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
Legend has that the Robin gained his red breast from pulling the thorns out of the crown of Jesus at his crucifixion to ease his suffering --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A song for a love honey we called Ann Summers due to her working there, she asked me for a birthday card poem and caused me a writer's block which when I tried to explain she cursed me a look of pure disdain , so I wrote this along the lines of a frigid flustering fool that she'd doubtless be serving at the Ann summers shop. Katie looks at all men with indifference and always takes fun from them , Bravo darling it's all we deserve. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
Every night I ask the women at my local shop what has been happening I usually get same boring response from a middle class mind full of meandering mediocrity then I tell her she can lie to save us both the boring reply. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
A poem written for a sibling son whose quest for frolic and fun wedge hatred in-between his brothers love by what he'd gone and done , it's difficult to understand the parable of the prodigal son especially if you're looking through the eyes of the other hard working one who through restraint and strive hath managed with diligent life toiled and tilled the farm in order to fill empty bellies and winter barn now back without a crumb returns the squandering sibling pun doubtless to take the family fortune for yet another hit an run better remember this of the prodigal son who fritted away everything from dad and mum let him now work to the rise and fall of a burning sun whilst you yourself seek out some frolic an fun --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ravenheart/message
Thinking back to my parents fate it's hard to see how they once did romantically pass through the eden gate into the land of milk and money where they fell hopelessly in love and felt the urge to passionately procreate , after which they wore the mortgage mask that twenty five year servile task eventually paying back the bank managers seven percent overdraft , they scrimped and scrapped in a steel city strife an then this beleaguered husband and wife decided to search out a big world party and a brand new life , they both sat before a monk faced magistrate who annulled their vows of matrimony awarding one spouse the house and the other a monthly allowance of alimony, Friends and family did try to console and commiserate all in vain an far too late due to both parties now having hearts made of suede and heads full of hate .
A little tune i wrote for James who's very devout in his religion each Sunday we usually have a long discussion with him trying to convert me to his Christianity and me remaining with my humble hallowed humanity both of us respectful of each others theistic thoughts.
A song I wrote for Nina in lock down with covid and the kids a little soft swing Whilst you do your thing hell what else do you do whilst in Morrisons café.
A song about emperors and kings who believe themselves to be the devine demagoguery If a devine deity did arrive on planet earth these mobsters and megalomaniacs would see them quickly murdered .
A poem about an old rag and bone man who started out with just a horse and cart then after a life of skinflinting strife became very rich but even after acquiring great wealth he still retained his beggar man roots and rhetoric.
The Westminster war of brexit has spilt a lot of blood onto the backbenchers but who will win the feudal few or the milky middle class crew .
The Oxfam shop or as we call it "The dead man's drop" is an essential part of our high street culture we all of us at some stage find ourselves sifting through their silt as if stroking and smelling the scents and spirits of our past relatives like some lost and found bric-a-brac burial ground we old elephants come to rummage around amongst the bones and skin of our not so long ago departed kin. Unfortunately all the objects mentioned in this musing is what I have purchased and given away to friends and family as Christmas and birthday presents including many more objects d'arts or as most of my recipient's see them , jumble sale junk.
What was once a stamp for the tramp or cut of a criminal class is now adorning the faces and physique of aristocrat, royalty and supermodel chic .
A slow smoochy song for Nina ,I thought I'd possibly compare thee to a woodland tree x
Our fixation with fear is definitely here we're living like mendicant monk our decadent cafe latte lifestyles are all defunct , this virus hangs about us like the prophecy of Macbeth a new strain of black death this damnable covid-19 has killed what was once a hedonistic dream . Project fear is all we hear bombarded constantly into our ear, we've become farmed fish the human hen all crushed together into purgatory pen pellet fed by auntie Bettie and uncle Ben . 10 ENVY  The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives . 501 VOODOO  If ever you should take a drink with a witch make sure you leave the very same night before the break of day or the dawn of light by which time you might just find yourself in a very unfortunate plight of being subjected to her JuJu cat's emasculation bite that leaves you as some sort of strangely sculptured hermaphrodite . 1011 STAN THE MAN  A little Irish reel written in three four time it's about a person called sanctimonious stan there's one in every bar room they're like a voice of doom, a skull on a stick that belongs in a catacomb. 881 BLOOD RAIN  A poem about artist girlfriend who's Spanish African temperament could turn from being a soft mistral breeze that gently caresses into violent blood raining Scirocco that tears the blossom from the trees slamming doors and smashing flower pots and hearts into pieces washing them down the drain like biscuits in the rain . 1391 GRANDAD  Grandfathers are like old sentinels that stand guard over us in our early infant years , stolid as grandfather clocks their old heavy hearts pendulum their rhythm of life into our new born ears, a mortal metronome that keeps a steady beat to the timpani of our tiny feet. 2701 TURING'S TRUTH  The human hunter gatherer brain is so very hard to truth train but maybe not if you start using the new silicon scopolamine dream and drip feed it daily with some digital dopamine served up from our omnipresent Turing machine. 2561 https://youtu.be/pa4LUSsCGo8  This is a musing I wrote after listening to my father who'd been conscripted into the British army during the second world war you can quite easily see why by year twenty three most members of the military have gone completely mad with OCD its perhaps due to the cour d'esprit of the British army which has a relentless marching rhythm beating to the sweet spot tempo of 120 , from day one your heart soul body and mind are recalibrated and realined to the measured metronome of the military kind in order for you to keep in perfect tune whilst playing together in the theatre of war with the other synchronised members of your platoon . 319 NIGELLA  A song I wrote this morning for a girl who ran a grease box cafe in the favela , If cook's could kill then this greasy girl was definitely licensed to grill !! she's always standing by ever ready to kill your sense of humour with sarcasm or ease the stomach acid with her peppermint pill 3441 LINDSAY  A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her LGBT spirit and colour into our drab fifty souls of grey community bombing us daily with vivid wondrous paintings she takes with her an extraordinary feng shui losing her is like the loss of a perpetual summer's day , artist are the community take them away and you kill it's soul you're left with empty plastic people with tarmac tongues and concret
The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives .
The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives .
A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her LGBT spirit and colour into our drab fifty souls of grey community bombing us daily with vivid wondrous paintings she takes with her an extraordinary feng shui losing her is like the loss of a perpetual summer's day , artist are the community take them away and you kill it's soul you're left with empty plastic people with tarmac tongues and concrete craniums.
A little ditty I wrote for lillian's birthday who was born on the first of may now aged nine .all rights reserved
Unfortunately this was based on real life events within hours of a small miss demeanor involving a flood the Chinese whispers got to work and in the gossiping café's of old H-gate every transformation took place looking back it's quite amusing how things can get so convoluted with each conversation people love scandal
A song about setting off on a world tour in the late seventies was nothing like it is today there were no mobile phones or multimedia just the odd phone box for calls with your thumb and forefinger for transportation hitchhiking thousands of miles around the globe taking years and years almost a decade to the point where many of us became wonderlust with our own wanderlust , but we did become quite skilled in the art of conversation due to spending so much time spieling with strangers , way back when you had the safety of being completely anonymous due to not having any mobiles or media where now the new wage travellers are so guarded due to the sapiens surveillance of God Google and the silicone starzi Siri .
A song I wrote about the king of rock and roll it's done in the fifties crooning style . He was born into extreme poverty raised in a shotgun shack but managed not only to break out of but also to attack the musical apartheid of America he was one of the first to start singing the black man's blues , he went from busking as a bum on Beale Street to having the world worshipping at his feet .
A short ditty written for the god Google children who now speak in fluent geek , They say that the earth shell will belong to the meek I think they might mean the. "GEEK "
A short song I wrote whilst trapped in rush hour on the M25 you may hear a few cars zooming past forgive the quality , its certainly a highway to hell and your brain boils in its crab faced shell; at night it turns into a Cannon Ball Run a hundred and seventeen miles of MAD MAX fun with motor cycles screaming past like something out of the movie TOP GUN. I say if there's anyone out there with good musical ability who would care to lend me a hand with these songs please give me a email as you can hear I'm only a lyricist. slr34@hotmail.com
Our green karma Queen casts her svelt shadow over we obstinate boulder brained beasts lighting an alternative pathway towards her spiritual sentient sanctuary .
I was having breakfast from a cheap cafe overlooking a piece of small purgatory where a young woman was living on the street under an umbrella in the shop doorway when suddenly she awoke relieved herself on a blue bucket and threw it into the street and then began begging from the passing early morning trade whilst I ate blue berries even though at the moment I am in poverty earning very little money there is always someone to let me know that am in paradise compared to them.
A song I wrote today after seeing an old Keltic companion I haven't seen for a decade a true blue eyed raven headed Bretagne . The Romans drove them to the furthest reaches of the kingdom so did Edward long shanks hammer of the scots who also stole their ancient kings destiny stone and put it under his own throne Then By the act of supremacy Henry VIII made himself a god figure to rule over all kingdoms , and so you can understand by what they did why the Keltic people feel quite a mistrust towards Westminster and why they would like devolution
A cynical love song . My Family members were 1920s dyed-in-the-wool Yorkshiremen who believed that love be measured in pounds Shillings and pence and behind the white picket fence was a work house specially built to keep wife wain or wench who had a value similar to that of blood stock and foul , children being merely chattels without soul .
A short story based upon real life events of my childhood at the time they felt terrifying but now looking back they are the source of amusement for writing. Blue bloods are quite simply mad !! , they treat normal reality as an inconvenient triviality , rules to them don't exist and the rest of mere mortality are kept around as fluffers for their joviality in what's usually a porno drama of pansexuality .
A short ditty written for the god children who now speak in fluent geek and worship God Google , They say that the earth will belong to the meek I think they might mean the "GEEK
A short story based on real life events when I first ever traveled abroad to France and we lived like tramps on the street washing in fountains stealing food from shops as vagrants and vagabonds until somebody came up with a great idea of putting together the tramps brigade who lived on the swamp in cap d'age the next thing we were all assigned duties and discipline
A short story about crazy maniacs who shared space and spilt blood with me , you should never really put three bisexuals and an asexual under one roof especially if one pushes everything and everyone to the limit of their patience
A short humorous story I wrote about a man who was carrying a vicarious redemption on behalf of something else a burdensome task which was only relinquished by his death where upon he was given the cold cruel truth by his absent minded time lord who tries to make amends but far too late .
We watch the bloodstained refugee whilst sitting at home with wine and a takeaway TV , What is happening in Ukraine is yet another terrible tragedy President Putin and America with allies recently reduced the middle East to ruins displacing tens of millions of refugees another tyrannical war game any of us with half a brain can see that it's the blood of the innocent yet again that is spilling down the drain !! .
Greta has an almost impossible sales pitch she's to demand that the incredibly rich dumped that expensive pieces of kitsch , they fly to the cop out climate meetings in their lear jets and show not the slightest hesitation of any regrets, her gargantuan glitch is to try to move these people towards the green dream of a beggars itch, but these dinosaurs who block destiny's drawbridge are mega rich and have no intention of surrendering any of their Kardashian kitsch. To quote Churchill sardonically, , "Never was so much owed by so many to so few".
Every day the paparazzi serve us our sadistic sacrifice all flesh red and raw, no good being a herbivore if you read the daily tabloid's blood and gore , You've really got to be a proper cover story carnivore with the stomach of a toreador , let's face it the press room's a slaughtering house stable and the editor's desk is nothing more than the butcher's table.
Her swan song is what you hear just before your love boat runs aground and the scent of sulphur be the final pheromone you smell as you slowly begin to drowned .
A song I wrote in the old music hall traditiion of two verse chorus which is similar to the church stanza chorus stanza chorus I've also sang it in the baritone barber shop of a beggers opera style like that of my father who born in 1925 still bursts into song similar to a Mississippi minstrel .
The booze has dammed the soul of many a Keltic kin once upon a life time ago we were the Gunga Din.
A song I wrote for a crazy young girl who's beauty could have caused Aphrodite to scream a blue rage of jealously and it was fairly obvious to see her maker man was OCD and once you're under her spell you just can't break free . all rights reserved.
A short song I wrote for my god children who love to alternate things to risky rhetoric especially in cartoons and almost all things their word play being a speciality children always push the boundaries of imagination and give chancy candid connotations as if they're the most natural notions of naivety. . , all rights reserved.
This is a song i wrote about the catastrophic creations cause through having too much cosmetic surgery leaving so many a patient in the perpetual state of a reconstructive purgatory the surgeons are called the picasso's of the plastique, well they certainly end up with a foot an mouth or a tongue-in-cheek , they sculpture and scalpel at something that once started out as the face of the fantastic but by the final phase come cut you're left with a gargoyle freak. All rights reserved.
A song I wrote whilst looking at the selection of sapiens on a train station I was wondering if we mixed all of them together as if they were paint in a garden shed, would we all end up resembling some khaki olive coloured bread or maybe a DNA glue that resembles a fudge fondue . All rights reserved
A little ditty I wrote as a final song for 2021 new year's eve , after watching solders marching up and down at the nearby army base I was thinking if covid turned everything up side down how we may have had a Marshall law military lockdown , I've done it in a military two step rhythm with the emphasis and accent on that very final beat of attention as if stamping the foot of authority down but still to a humorous tune. All rights reserved.
A little tune I wrote for my father over the Christmas period he still listens to all the old crooners like Frank Sinatra Matt Monro an Bing Crosby they all seem to have that lazy lullaby lilt famous in the fifties before Rock an Roll knocked them out of the park, I suppose when I'm at ninety five years of age I will probably still be singing to Motown , I've done my best to write an sing it in that old crooners style . all rights reserved.
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