The Hospice

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The Hospice

"Where is your neighbour?"
"Passed away, in the night."
"Bloody hell, that is awful!"
"Why, I'm alright."

"I got his sausage,
pinched from his plate."
"Sweet Jesus, dad,
he was your mate!"

"It was no use to him,
so why shouldn't I?"
Defiant, the look
left me wondering why

does it boil down to this?
We steal from the dead,
wait till they're gone
so that we can be fed.

Then it occurred,
that really he cared,
his bedside bravado,
meant he was scared.

The following morning,
my father had passed.
Who'd got his sausage,
I reflected, downcast.

Hobbo’s Philosophy

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Hobbo's Philosophy

I am merely a poet,
So, unless I forego it,
I won't change the world overnight,
But if, as you are giggling
A thought begins niggling,
Then, I might, just have done something right.

Why?

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Why?

From girl
With her head full of dreams,
To woman,
Her head full of screams.
From pushchair
To wheelchair
In the blink of an eye.
At the dusk of discovery
And still I ask
Why?

You and me, me and you

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You and me, me and you

You measure success by your power
The money you earn by the hour
Your place at the top of the chart
The people who nod when you fart.

Now, I, am content with my lot
Whereas you (Sir!), quite clearly are not
I always sleep soundly in bed
But you chase the dreams in your head.

For me, life's a joy and a pleasure
My family and friends are my treasure
You are constantly searching for more
Never pausing to think, what life's for.

I consider what use I can be
To others, with you it's all me
For you, a huge house is essential
Though I think it inconsequential.

Love that we share and we give
Are the tenets by which we should live
You think that fame is a must
You forget that we all turn to dust.

When you die, are there people who'll grieve
Or, will they count the money you leave
Have you spent your time wisely on earth
It's the value that counts, not the worth.
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