7 in 10



it’s the loneliest existence
on the path of least resistance
they’re all saying ‘i hate you’
not enough to just berate you
strength lays behind a screen
yellows like to stay unseen
venom curdling and cloying
in the life that they’re destroying

everybody’s got a choice
and everyone should have a voice
let’s hope they’re feeling proud
when theirs get too fucking loud
there are places in this world
for all flags to be unfurled
while theirs flutter in their breeze
someone’s dying by degrees

we all like to look our best
so some dare the socials’ test
it’s a fickle forums’ stage
digitalis poisons page
heaven sent? or just hell bent?
with just a click, their comment’s spent
then, depending on the feeling
some are rocking; most are reeling

there are kinder ways to die
far finer ways to say goodbye
but that’s not easy to ignore
when wanker wolves are at the door
it isn’t sociable at all
to plot an innocents’ downfall
they’ve only just begun to live
yet, to you; it’s life they give

luckily, my old thick skin
doesn’t let the bastards in
but i know a vicious tongue
can be a yardstick for the young
hate is always going to be
a part of our society
unnecessary vitriol
will surely sink a sapling soul

what on earth is there to do?
with our ‘smart’ phones stuck like glue
you’re all better than the sum
of the targets you’ve become
trust someone; find strength to talk
leave them no weakness to stalk
they’ve bugger all on which to boast
and it’s themselves they hate the most...







Having watched the documentary by Jesy Nelson, the title here refers to the repulsive statistic that 7 in 10 teenagers have experienced some form of cyber bullying.
Not that she’ll read it, but that’s ok; this is for her, and for anyone that does read it that is experiencing, or has experienced, such life sucking hatred.
Just know that some of us are listening.

Time Your time is the cruelest master of all, Right up to your teens you're just having a ball, Your #life is a glib fest of good times and strops, With no sense of Jack Shit your teens are just tops, Bang into your twenty's and thirty's you're good, The man of the house and the whole neighbourhood, You know what it is hot and you don't give a fuck, Those dice love you baby they're bringing you luck, But Old Father Time has a trick up his sleeve, You don't know it yet but you better believe, That you'll soon be sliding right out of the game, That face in the mirror just won't be the same, At forty and fifty you're King Of The Hill, As strong as an oxen you never sit still, You still like to party but just on your own, And once in a while you let out a soft groan, At Sixty folk laugh as your trousers don't fit, As you blush and pretend that you don't give a shit, At Seventy vulnerability looms, You sit with the old folk in Caring Home Rooms, And should you hit Eighty time laughs in your face, As you stagger and stumble all over the place, You try to stay close to that lavatory door, Along with the others who's bowels are poor, And Old Father Time has a trick up his sleeve, You don't know it yet but you better believe, That you'll soon be sliding right out of the game, That face in the mirror just puts you to shame.  #poem #aging #time

Mother Winter

Mother Winter creeps,
The chill of her breath all about,
Gather your winter fuel,
And keep your ears to the ground,
Go, prepare as best you can,

For many a fool,
Has fallen foul of her tricks,
Paying scant respect,
Relying on luck perchance,
And so paid the price.

#tanka
#winter