guy lipmore

Land of the ‘free' he was born unintentionally,
Away from his native home, returning at the age of three.

Back to a place uncompromising and tough,
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'I intend to run for parliament,
And represent you in government.
Want to be your M.P,
Vote me in, trust me!
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Born into tradition,
generation gone by.
Mind of condition,
about to defy.
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A damn disgrace, an outrage,
In this modern day and age.
Food banks, and charities,
Soup kitchens and volunteers.
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Carnage of war,
Wounded, What's it all for.?
Question the insanity,
got to break free.
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Each one of us is searching for an end, well before its'due to arrive.
Each trying to contend, in life we strive.
Searching for an answer, a meaning, consciously or dreaming.
As to what and why we are in the universe?
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Soul destroyed, pride almost gone.
Unemployed, for eternally long.
Time caught up with skills of old,
Mind and body, not enough against the modern world.
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Germany, stationed there were two regiments,
Welsh boys with 'fun'-taking comments.
The "Black Mafia" did n't take too kindly to that,
Some thing they would have to do, matter of fact!
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On the TV, the medium for their charity,
Not a hair out of place, smug face.
Through them they say 'God loves beams, ' follow him to fulfill our dreams.
The lord loves us all, let's us prepare for the final call.
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Born of noble ancestry,
forgotten hero of history.
Lands and estate,
Greatness would await.
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Growing up into the'deep south'way,
Black and White, no grey.! !
‘Know your place'every day,
No change, things just stay.!
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Harrowing situation,
Cut to the bone with his affliction.
Invisible disease eating away,
His function and mind in decay.
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Transported to the camp of death,
Minutes from her last breath.
She was told to get undressed,
A familiar face spoke to her, he confessed.
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The humble sarnie,
Is an absolute delight to me?
Two slices of bread,
About to be lead..
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Hurt and pain don’t describe,
What is felt inside.
When grief touches, numbness rebounds,
No words needed, the eyes speak the sounds.
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The year ‘38 radio show,
But most didn't know.
Not real, just a production,
What a reaction!
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Finally gone, laid to rest,
Forget the gossip, the hounding press.
Not the best some would suggest,
Just an alcoholic, they would protest.
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Conversation breaks down,
So begins the ‘silent sound’.
The quietness only broken,
By sharp words spoken.
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The year was AD nine,
An unknown yet a defining time.
Germania, now modern Germany,
Site of utter catastrophe?
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Sleek and iconic.
Marvel of design, superb.
Curves of magic,
Many a true word.
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