Just Papering over the Cracks. E-Book

Darren Hobson

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

The Just series of books welcomes a new cub to their family with words of poetry about the glory and the tragedy that you find in our daily lives, there are words of hope to bring people back from the brink of depression when it seems all hope is lost, there are words of truth that have been hidden from the world, words that only can be whispered to one another in the kitchens of families desperate to see a better time, there are words from the past that were brutal and cruel, words that want to be part of a better, brighter future.

This collection of poetry is a stunning, interactive portrait of what this indie poet sees every day, this is like a fairground ride that lashes you from one point of view to another, short stories that are based on facts from the past, some poems document what a cruel world we live in, but no matter how deep the poems get, or how tragic and bloody life becomes, the poet believes in the future , he believes the best is yet to come, that we as humans should unite as one to overcome our struggles to move forward, to unite to move forward out of the dark ages of greed and corruption, of violence and murder to base our future on truth and honesty, so why not read what is here and believe in yourselves.

Leseprobe

Darren Hobson

Just Papering over the Cracks.

This ebook is dedicated to the muse and the two crazy cats who continue to believe in me, it is also dedicated to all the people who fight peacefully for a better world! BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Coming Again.

 Page one has arrived again,

Oh no it is that bloody poet,

The one who writes too much,

Too often, so inconsiderate,

Makes you all irate,

It was just the beginning,

We thought he was joking,

We thought his balloon,

Of confidence would deflate,

After a couple of months,

But here again in 2016,

He is back to make a mess,

And he is coming again,

There is no pot of gold,

At the end of his double rainbow,

There is no worth in his words,

He has been pushing his luck,

For way too long,

So why is he still smiling,

Hot headed, hard headed,

He continues to write in a mess,

He loves to tell us deep dark stories,

And his ability to cope with stress,

Trying to knock down hidden walls,

Trying to tidy up his boundaries,

Trying to find new words to paint with,

Giving colour to the oil refineries,

That spread like toadstools,

On the bleak, polluted river Tees,

Destroying a seaside location,

Redcar fell onto its knees,

The poet saw the decline,

Of this once proud seaside town,

Now he is not coming here again,

He has moved away from that town,

He has turned the page from his childhood,

Even though painful memories remain,

From bullying to neglecting himself,

And he continues that once and again,

A life is just an open book,

That still needs to be written,

Slicing apart and dissecting the corpse,

After the creativity trigger has been bitten,

Trying to find happiness,

Because not everyone likes drama,

Trying to light up someone’s day,

Spreading his word and spreading his karma,

Do you believe in what he writes?

Are you jealous on what he has become?

Are you mad because he is so erratic?

Should we be having more fun?

As the pages get written,

The books they hit the press,

He is still that charming character,

Writing about his adventures and mess,

Messy vibes and strange incantations,

Polluting the air with blue words,

Not as ready as he would like to be,

But twice as crazy and wants to be heard,

And after a brief pause,

Of reflection and collecting thoughts,

This beautiful savage beast,

Is coming again,

To take your mind off the day,

To entertain you all,

In such a delightful way,

To tickle and tease most of them,

Backs to the wall.

Smiling higher than the angels

Caught high on the high wire,

Falling down without a night,

Random words entwined into verse,

Wicked and scented, cute and perverse!

Nothing will be ever the same,

This poet is coming again!

Papering Over the Cracks.

 After coming too often,

After spreading the blame,

Just when he pushed too far,

He started to play a new game,

He tried to stay on the straight and narrow,

Not playing at the water’s edge,

He stood in the eye of a tornado,

He started jumping over the hedge,

That just happened to be in the way,

Just like most things these days,

Trying to keep his shit together,

When war rages on all seven sides,

Frustrated with his lack of progress,

Hot headed enough to swim against the tide,

Just when you thought it was safe,

To delve into another free eBook,

Just when you thought the fever had subsided,

Just when you could not take no more,

Just returns with words galore,

Pushing until there is no way back,

Punished and papering over the cracks,

A fragile state of mind,

A more difficult person you could not find,

Wrapped himself in barbed wire,

Bloodied face spits true words,

Take it or leave it but you really need it,

To hear what is floating in the sewers,

That is modern day life,

Would you like to know where all the honesty has gone?

Who left the door ajar to the ignorance chamber?

Why is humanity hiding in the dark?

Why are we so ecstatic at imminent danger?

My words are too much so they say,

Maybe you are sick of hearing the truth,

The world is corrupt and high on power,

Even water has become a luxury,

In this modern age my water runs filthy,

I dare not drink for fear of disease,

A disease that cannot be cured,

Because the local hospital is badly run,

Under staffed, people dying in the corridors,

From simple diseases that don’t need a bed,

So you are left to suffer on a stone floor,

Death is waiting in the next room,

The mould on the wall,

Viruses lurk in every crevice,

Every ten years a lick of white paint,

Pathetically papering over the cracks,

Just when you thought there could be no more,

Just when corruption becomes headline news,

All this is like beheading a hydra,

The more you destroy a corrupt soul,

Hundreds of the bastards take its place,

Everyone has the hand in the till,

Everyone wants to be a rich politician,

To steal money from the cities and art,

To leave the people in the ruins,

That was their dreams,

To underline what I see every day,

To underline what I hear in the street,

To underline the feeling we all have here,

Is that good enough to be included in verse?

It is hard enough to suffer in my own silence,

But added to their suffering it hurts twice as much,

To see how pathetic the people have become,

Voting for criminals and mafia bosses,

In the promise of pathetic sweeteners,