Bazil Figura-Poet
Serious Stuff...
I enjoy getting serous sometimes and letting the dark side on my imagination do its stuff
Death
Softly, silently, quietly it comes,
Its shape is hidden by guise,
It ruins, wrecks, shatters and destroys,
Its mission we learn to despise,
It’s here and there and everywhere,
Below the surface of calm,
It watches closely and waits its turn,
And strikes before any alarm
It does not smile or scream or shout,
No feelings are displayed,
Its takes its chance to grab a life,
And continue to evade,
Its presence has no breath, no pulse
No touch, no feel, no smell,
The time and place is set for you
It comes for you from hell,
No one sees it coming,
No one hears it speak,
No one but the chosen one,
The one that death does seek,
The good, the bad, the old, the young,
Bias does not exist,
When your chosen time is here,
Be sure, you’ll not be missed,
Do not go calmly or quietly,
But fight to lose your place,
Challenge what has been decided,
And look into its face,
The biggest fear is fear itself,
Of the unknown that lay ahead,
For if you except fate with out a fight,
Then maybe you’re better off dead.
Elvis
With hair as black as a ravens wing,
And a voice that could teach the angels to sing,
A mega star with a common touch,
Saw fans returned the love he gave so much,
A small town boy who lived the American dream,
From rags to riches his smile actually did gleam,
A home loving boy who adored his mum,
Her death left him feeling alone and so numb,
Never more happier than when performing to a crowd,
He knew what he was doing would have made his ‘mom’ proud,
His talent was no mystery and needed little clues,
As girls screamed and watched his blue suede shoes,
His body moved with a twist and turn,
While his music in your soul did burn,
The rhythm entered the crowd with a shock,
As sung and danced to the jail house rock,
Backstage the Memphis mafia guarded every move,
But on stage when performing he had nothing ever to prove,
Whether thumping rock and roll or a ballad strong and slow,
His silken voice hit every note both mountain high and valley low,
His white suit sparkling by the spot light beam,
Created a superstar the likes of which others could only dream,
Young men cut their hair in homage to their saint,
Young girls scream and shout till overcome they’d faint,
His image, looks and voice were ahead of space and time,
To some he was the devil and accused him of a crime,
But the mould was truly broken as he sung and danced on stage,
For his music and his presence appealed to every age,
His rock and roll across the globe will be remembered forever,
For the music and the man brought the world together,
To all his faithful subjects who still listen to him sing,
For the legend that is Elvis, he truly is the king.
Execution
Amid the noise of shouts and screams,
Metal on metal that spark and grind,
Footsteps are heard clear by me,
Can no one else hear them come?
A chanting priest avoids my eyes,
As guards do bind my failing legs,
With blows that reign on chest and back,
My rage is quelled once more,
The gag reduces screams to whimpers,
Moreover, drips with spit and blood,
Lead passed others, who also wait,
They see themselves in me,
Through one door then another,
Like a maze of steel and brick,
The stale stench of sweat gives way,
And fresh air fills my lungs within one step,
Sunlight warms my bristled face,
Dust swirls up from scuffling feet and settles on my lips,
Before my stands my final place where to rest I’m stood,
A wooden post once living now dead,
The irony is heavy like my chains,
Fixed, secured, no movement breathing is so hard,
The bag pushed down plunging into darkness my final moments,
My breath moves the surface drawing it to my cheek,
The sweat stings my eyes in my muted rage,
‘Ready’ the word that begins my end,
‘Aim’ the word, from which there is no return,
I wait for the shot I’ll never hear,
Death comes to me in silence.
Irish Dance
Of spirits past and tranquil roots,
The fiddle drums and magic flutes,
Born of water, fire and ground,
The music tumbles round and round,
Ankles supple, tendons flick,
Jumping high with outstretched kick,
The thunderous noise of many feet,
Crash to earth with just one beat,
Leather soft makes hard the shoe,
Each strike gives birth to movement new,
Flick of toe and stamp of heel,
Spinning joyous the Celtic reel,
Fast the rhythm begin to pound,
And still the music tumbles round and round,
Long red hair with gentle curl,
Flows so smooth in a giddy whirl,
A pretty face, a smile that’s set,
Foreheads glisten with beads of sweat,
Like soldiers march they crash once more,
One hundred feet upon the floor,
As dancers dance with steps so clear,
I stand in awe and shed a tear,
People watch with hearts that lift,
Proof that God bestows a gift,
And when the dancers dance no more,
And quietness falls upon the floor,
For in your soul the spirit stays,
To call upon in future days,
And in quite moment as time goes by,
You see them again in your mind’s eye,
See the dancers, hear the sound,
And feel the music tumble round and round.
Nick
The smell of sweat and metal,
Walls that touch you at night,
I close my eyes and travel to far off places,
But when I awake I’m back again,
Home is somewhere safe, familiar with friends,
How sad then that this is now my home,
Men scream out loud but always at night,
As if their spirits are trying to escape,
In many ways they have, for only empty shells remain,
Lifeless bodies sentenced to life,
Killers slowly being killed,
Thieves having their freedom stolen,
Irony becomes mental torture,
Beds creek, doors slam all noise is intense at night,
My eyes draw in light from the window so small,
Wasted bodies and body waste all add to the cocktail of time,
The slow rhythmic footsteps outside,
Well-polished boots strike the floor with relentless pride,
A pride I once had, but lost like a child looses sweets,
Easily and with no regrets,
The tension unlocks with the doors,
Morning light dampens the fuse,
The suffocation of night releases its grip,
Another breathe another day,
Lots of talk but nothing said,
Hard men, soft men, sad men, ill men,
There are many masters inside this world,
Drugs, tobacco, phone cards each a currency to fight for,
This world has no boundary of distant stars,
Our horizon is in yards not miles,
Floodlights and razor wire are the edge of my universe,
Each day’s preparation is for each night’s dreams to come,
Each nightmare although expected still decays the sole.
Nightmare
My eyes close gently to rest once more,
Head buried in the pillow comfy and secure,
The eyelids get heavier and fall tight shut,
Then begins the dreams that seem so real,
Trapped in a tunnel with no end in sight,
Every corner turned leads to yet another,
Something is chasing me I can’t see what,
Closer and closer when will it pounce?
Legs running fast but getting nowhere,
The faster I run the slower I get,
Naked in a crowd people looking at me,
Falling from a tower helplessly tumbling,
The ground rushes towards me,
I feel fear coursing through my veins,
Just as I hit I suddenly awake,
Frightened, sweating, breathless, shaking,
A second or two passes to realise I’m safe,
Where do these dreams come from why visit me?
Heart racing, eyes darting, fingers gripping the covers,
My eyes close gently to rest once more.
9 - 11
A clear blue sky, on a normal day,
Decisions were made many miles away,
Unaware of what would come,
The result would make the world go numb,
Evil came wearing smiles and charm,
To engulf the world with panic and alarm,
The darkness of terror, the chill of fear,
Is aimed at the ones we hold so dear,
Perceptions changed in such a way,
There were no ‘ordinary’ people on that day,
In a moments madness creating history,
The reasoning for the actions will remain ever a mystery,
Fire that burn with the heat of hell,
Melted flesh and steel in the buildings shell,
Some people choosing to jump than stand,
So God could end the nightmare where they land,
And finally, what stood with pride,
Fell to the ground as millions cried,
It wasn’t instant but a lingering death,
As the rubble gave out it’s last drying breath,
Super heroes in collars and ties,
Dug with hands and tear filled eyes,
Sons, daughters, husbands and wives,
All with hopes, dreams and lives,
Crushed steel and personal grief,
Actions of others beyond belief,
A little of us all died in a way,
When we saw the events unfold that day,
What God or cause should stand in shame?
To allow such carnage in their name,
Although the physical has all but gone,
The memories will linger on,
But with time and strength we will not fail,
The bad will lose and the good prevail,
They never have and they never will,
Achieve their aim, by which they kill,
The innocence of many lives,
Fed the terror on which it thrives,
Although many people were buried alive,
The human spirit did survive,
Future generations will ask ‘How and Why’,
Terror came from a clear blue sky,
Suicide
River fast, river deep,
Water cold my sole to keep,
Bridges edge sharp and high,
My last step before I die,
Grip the rail fingers tight,
Release begins my heavenly flight,
My head within a muddled roar,
But soon the peace of ever more,
Seagulls circle unaware,
Looking up I have no fear,
Darkness comes as come is must,
My ashes soon reverts to dust,
Angels come to take my hand,
To lead me to a better land,
Freedom beckons as I fall,
The water talks, I hear its call,
A single tear cloud my sight,
Disappears in the torrents might,
Cold on skin, face, and hair,
Goes the taste of life’s sweet air,
Water’s shroud wraps around,
Beneath the surface not a sound,
Silent scream, body still,
End of life, end of will,
Spirit gone empty shell,
Made in heaven sent to hell,
Water enters stops my breath,
I struggle not I welcome death,
Imprisoned mind set to be free,
Last day on earth I will ever see,
River fast, river deep,
Peace at last eternal sleep.
Terrorist Lament
The thrill to kill is no more,
I have ended many lives in God’s name,
Cold, ruthless deeds all,
My conscience cleansed by confession,
My sole washed by angel’s tears,
I ask and need no more forgiveness from god,
For we all think he is on our side,
But who’s side is he on to let it happen at all,
My slumbering morals shakes my guilt from sleep,
My shameful duties carried out,
The stalk, the ambush the invitation to die,
The lucky ones live but walk no more,
I pleasure no more at the sight of frighten men,
My huddled prey cry tears into the gutter,
Their eyes so wide you can see they’re sole,
Their last vision not that of their loved ones,
But neon lights and stars,
Their last touch not of their children’s hand,
But cold wet tarmac against their face,
Heavy traffic hides the bullets path,
One more dead soldier of war,
These soldiers wear no uniform,
Too many men have died for cause,
Am I therefore the affect?
I believe there I good in all men,
But how long must we wait to see it reborn?
For this man the wait is over,
True peace starts within the sole,
Let the widows and orphans remind,
It’s the living that suffers.
The Assault
A well lit street, a familiar walk,
I pass people and they pass me,
Eye contact is rare but sometimes it happens,
My pace is brisk but not rushed,
Hands deep in pockets, head buried in my scarf,
The adjacent traffic moves slowly,
Mind focused on my, to do list,
Mentally ticking off each task,
The pavement is busy so everyone weaves,
We sidestep and never touch,
All done by never looking up,
My house still in view until I turn the corner,
Then suddenly he is there,
He stands and blocks my way,
At first I just manoeuvre to carry on my way,
But my sidestep brings his face into mine,
Our eyes meet but he looks straight through me,
His broken smile hides his intentions,
I can feel his breath on my face,
One hand holding his hood to cover his face,
The other wrapped tightly on the knife handle,
He speaks just three words over and over,
Money, Phone, Now,
The tone is nervous but controlled,
People are walking by but they are unaware,
To them we are just in conversation,
An abnormal scene playing out in a normal world,
Money, Phone, Now,
He shuffles forward deep into my space,
I feel the moisture in his breath,
The hand with the knife twitches,
My eye is drawn to the polished steel glinting under the streetlight,
Money, Phone, Now,
The tone hardens,
The realisation slams home as my pulse races,
Adrenaline kicks in, I start to shake,
I look at the ground and for a second I see myself there,
Have I just seen the future?
Then just a quick I am back to reality,
Money, Phone, Now,
He steps even closer, his forehead pushed against mine,
I see every detail of his face but remember nothing,
My legs are like lead, heavy, motionless,
My hands trembling as they search for the things that will set me free,
As each object appears they are grabbed with nervous speed,
His pockets now full he turns and walks away,
His head down like others, who he is walking with on the busy street,
Suddenly I’m alone as the space rushed back in,
It was as if he was never there, did I imagine all this,
My adrenaline punches me and tells me otherwise,
My head is spinning, my breath so rapid,
I slowly lower to one knee then the other,
Like someone prying I rock backwards and forwards,
People stop, good people who care,
I’m helped to my feet, they asked what happened,
My speech is stolen, the word aren’t there,
What did happen, was it real, was it a dream,
Something happened, I’m numb, but something happened,
My brain tries to rescue me, flooding me with questions,
Why me, why today, why this street, why didn’t anyone see something,
What did I do that made this happen, why me,
I need to be home, I need familiar surroundings,
I start to walk home,
The street well lit, a familiar walk,
I pass people and they pass me,
Eye contact is rare but sometimes it happens,
The walk will never be the same again.
The Battle March
Every step hurts, every breath burns,
But I can’t stop, I know I can but I won’t,
My pack is uncomfortably comfortable,
The straps dig deep to the bone,
My rifle changes hands to find comfort,
The gun changes people for ever,
We run awhile then walk awhile, then we run again,
Blisters start to form they string step by step,
My jacket is wet and sticky, my neck aches,
My eyes sting with salt, I blow hard and spit,
My feet burn inside my boots,
I listen to the rhythm as the heels dig in,
I fight hard against the pain,
And still they want us to run,
My face has but one expression,
Looking at the ground just ten yards ahead,
Cold eyes but burning body,
As the group closes in the pain subsides,
No one gets left behind,
Men and kit moves as one animal,
With pain, aggression, and pride,
We marching together, fighting together, die together,
The harder we train the easier we fight,
Brothers in arms to the last,
Not a single man will let another down,
Our aggression, our passion, our hatred,
Focused on our chosen enemy,
Months of training for minutes of fighting,
When the bullets fly the politics disappears,
We fight for each other, we fight for the day.
The Box
So small and harmless looking,
So shiny and bright,
Simple in use, complicated by design,
The outside only a shell, but what lays within,
Is it my future as it will be or as it is now,
I have the chance to know, I have the chance to see,
What lays inside for me to glimpse,
All the evil you can imagine, all the good you can think of,
The lid so easy to lift, just one flick to see,
But the mental strength needed is more than I can handle,
I want to see and know, but will I see what I want,
It pulls me close, closer still,
So soft to touch, so light to hold,
Just an inch, just a fraction, just a peek,
I want to know but do I know what I want,
Are there nightmare’s within,
The dark side of my life,
Being alone, unloved, unwanted,
Screaming silently within,
Seeing my death and knowing things will continue without me,
Are there golden days within,
The light side of my life,
Being needed, trusted, confident,
Smiling and laughing out loud,
Seeing my family and friends together forever,
Will the tears in my eyes be laugher or fear,
The line is so close between success and failure,
The universe of my mind there in that box,
What if its empty, what would I do,
What if what I want isn’t what I want,
Would I be disappointed, would I be content,
My reward is in that box,
Do I lift the lid or not.
The Dragon
From swirling mist of forest floor,
Comes the step of glistening claw,
Scales of leather armour green,
Strikes terror cold whenever seen,
Fire and smoke from every breath,
Brings swift to man a certain death,
Razor teeth that intermesh,
Strip from bones all mortal flesh,
Of warlock, witch and spell so black,
Summon demons that ride its back,
Majestic head with horns to fight,
Have cost the lives of many knights,
Emeralds set in blood filled pools,
Its eyes burn deep in Christian soles,
Of myths and legends and tales of yore,
When time is right it visits once more,
Millenniums pass as secretes it keeps,
Hidden from man as again the beast sleeps,
Return as it came from the earth’s molten core,
We wait once more for the dragon’s roar.
The Forest
Enter a cathedral of leaves,
Its ceiling painted many shades of green,
Wooden columns support the fragile roof,
As you walk along its isles,
That crisscross in all directions,
Sunlight brakes upon your face,
Its shape and tones,
Like standing beneath a living stain glass window,
As I walk on its soft green carpet,
I’m aware of choirs singing,
Feathered choristers sing praises,
A vastness that has no echo,
Well worn paths that welcome so many,
This wild life home of spirits past,
Has grown from infancy to manhood,
Taking in and seeing so much,
So many seek sanctuary here,
They have nowhere to go,
To be here is my pleasure,
To be here is their survival,
No man has build this cathedral,
Let no man desecrate it.
The River Nar
Like a ribbon being drawn through fingertips,
Twisting, turning, flowing like silk,
Growing stronger and bigger as it goes,
Like a crystal knife cutting into the countryside,
Grassy banks neatly bow to meet the water,
Giant trees that line its path seem to pay respect,
The emerald weed slowly sways back and forth,
As you walk past they wave goodbye,
Swans parade like dandies,
Constantly looking around to see who is in admiration,
Ducks gossip like old women as they go about their business,
Trout dart in the blink of an eye,
Flashing all the colours of the rainbow,
Columns of gnats dance in the evening warmth,
Going round and round like a carousel,
Fallen leaves waltz in circles as they float by,
Spinning and twirling like debutants,
Tiny swirls in quite places sparkle like diamonds,
The water chatters to me as I stop and listen,
Since time began it goes its own way,
As old as it is, there’s always something new to see,
It’s a peaceful noise you can listen too,
Crystal clear, icy cold, running deep,
Bringing life to the countryside,
Animals and plants gain life and sustenance,
People gain peace and respect,
A focal point, a meeting place,
Giving creation to the landscape,
As it turns a corner it passes close to the Priory,
Further on it is overlooked by the Castle,
The Ford once crossed by foot and cart,
Now by bridge and 4 by 4,
As I stand on high ground it leaves me behind,
Wandering into the distance bringing life to the land,
But as I turn around I smile again once more,
As I welcome the same with shades of difference,
Always leaving while always arriving,
Every walk along the River is like my first time,
Long after I am no more and the river changes,
Who will be blessed with these sights and sounds?
Will they like me appreciate this gift of nature?
My Norfolk, my River, my pleasure, my secret.
The Sniper
As still as the death I bring,
Becoming one with the land, listening to every sound,
Drizzle settles on grass and bracken,
Forming drops that run down my face,
Rain and sweat merge as one, my body hot, my heart cold,
A ladybird dances across my cuff,
The scent of fern and soil so strong,
Breathing slowly like a sleeping animal,
The grim reaper comes dressed in autumn shades,
Dormant for hours watching and waiting,
A secret war between my victim and me,
A foregone conclusion that has but one result,
My conscience purged by duty,
I play god for deciding who lives and dies,
I play the devil for my deeds,
Someone’s husband will leave a widow,
Someone’s son will leave a grieving mother,
Soon a life so precious will end,
Long before any pain begins all will hear the shot but one,
Smooth wood upon my cheek as I look so far away but yet so close,
The polished lens bring the condemned to me,
Cross hairs flutter like butterfly wings until it settles still and precise,
The faint smell of oil fills my nose,
My finger on trigger slowly contracts,
As I exhale slowly the choice is made,
The gentle squeeze brings a kick and crack,
Bird’s scatter and rabbit’s bolt,
I watch a face contort like a gargoyle’s torment,
Like stone the expression will changes no more,
A lifeless corps quickly slumps, as all around is panic,
Darkness crawls slowly as do I giving protection,
My duty done, good kill.
The Team
Work awaits,
Four shire and a man,
The plough so sharp and clean,
Rings out as it cuts,
‘Walk on Captain, steady Boxer’,
Gentle giants slowly tread,
‘Easy Prince, easy Duke’,
God’s earth neatly folded slice upon slice,
The clink of flint on steel,
The jangle of bridle and bit,
All noises of the day now lost,
Flat cap dries the sweating brow,
Hobnails walk in silence,
Gulls swoop and wail with mouths so wide,
The cuckoo calls in infant light,
Mist floats above the field of stubble,
As the hours go by,
The pace never drops,
Never to quick, never to slow,
Man trust horse and horse trusts man,
They are the family of the field,
Their spirits entwined by nature’s seasons,
They are as one.
The Volunteer
First we march then we run then we march again,
We are trained to do a job and forget about the pain,
When we march out, we don’t look back and say a fond goodbye,
We all know once over the top eventually you die,
We defend until the last in snow and hail and mud,
Until the ground that we stand on is tainted with our blood,
Trust unto the officers and my friends that guard my back,
And if I fall let them say ‘He was first in the attack’,
Barbed wire tries to stop us setting the whole world free,
But all we heroes really need is a descent cup of tea,
We can’t regroup or run and hide; we fight in the battles roar,
We attack alas my friend until we are no more,
Mustard gas and trench foot help to make us die,
With mud, blood, and young men’s tears no wonder we all cry,
I hope in time there is never war and friends no longer fall,
But if there is, I’m always here to answer my country’s call,
Don’t show me any compassion or shed a single tear,
It’s the job I do and want to do and I do it without fear,
Whatever fate has in store let it be known I care,
I will face what has to come, I’m proud to volunteer.
The Windmill
How still and grey it stands,
Against the inky sky of day break,
As tall as heaven as cold as death,
Stars rap themselves around its shape,
Movement inside, a light,
The stone begets life,
Slowly the sun climes from its slumber,
Throwing light upon the sails,
Like outstretched arms in exaltation,
Welcoming warmth and life,
Turning slowly into the wind its bone creek and grind,
Coming alive to meet a new day,
Working constantly at one pace,
Its giant heart beats to the rhythm of the mill-stone,
Men sweat inside the granite shell,
Laughter, tears, all life’s emotions sing out,
But how long do they stay?
Like a finger pointing to heaven,
It waits for dusk to arrive,
Then slowly it loses it life again a little by little,
Until the lights go out,
The giant body stops,
Silence broken only by creaks and groans,
The beast sleeps till morn.
War Dance
Spinning round, change the step,
Secretes of the dance are kept,
Battle drum beats strong and loud,
Eyes are closed, heads are bowed,
Arms move like an eagle’s wing,
Call on spirits good luck to bring,
Fire burns with rhythmic crack,
Sparks rise in the night so black,
Shadow cast by burning flame,
Looks like warriors from the dead have came,
Smell of cedar and sticky sap,
A cloak of smoke around them wrap,
War paint glistens by flickering light,
Dance for strength before the fight,
Air thick with dust from heavy stamp,
A swirling smog around the camp,
Coloured feathers worn like a name,
Many dance but none the same,
Each step with meaning hits the floor,
For some they dance the dance no more,
Wolves watch from afar with eyes of red,
Soon they will feed upon the dead,
As buffalo charge and snake tail rattle,
Many tomorrow will fall in battle,
Their places taken by the young once more,
To grow and dance the dance of war.
The payment is made, the contract is agreed.
No handshake, no signature, just a nod.
Our eyes locked together in equal trust and suspicion.
We turn and walk, never looking back.
Our faces mutually forgotten as the sound of our steps fade away.
From that moment a man’s destiny is decided.
A life begins its countdown unaware of its fate.
Father, brother, son, best friend, he may be all or none.
It matters not to me who they are or who they were.
Tears may fall for him, but I am numb to their pain.
And so, my work begins, a photo, a scrap of paper in my gloved hand.
My mind starts to plan, the who and the where.
The how is already decided, one bullet, close range to the head.
I have nothing electronic or digital, no trail, no record.
Paper can be burnt, no trace as the ashes disappear in the breeze.
The stalk, ghillie like I watch, I follow, day after day the same.
I choose my ground, the time, the day.
I weigh the risks of getting in and out.
Witnesses are unreliable, shock distorts memories.
If I’m seen I’ll be forgotten, confusion is my friend.
It’s been a week since the plan started.
The last week of his life if only but knew.
But then nobody knows their last day in this world.
No one except me and his last day.
Tomorrow at 23:35, the multi-story car park.
I’ll sleep well tonight the plan is set.
And so tonight it is, parked, ready, prepared.
I look down at my watch, the second hand sweeps passed as the minute hand hits 23:30
Cars come and go, not too busy, but busy enough.
I sit inside my car, gun ready, suppressor fitted.
My black coat, dark trousers and black shoes all non-descript.
Nothing that could standout or be remembered.
I glance at my watch again, its time.
My eyes are fixed on the entrance door.
My fingers on the door handle ready to exit.
Suddenly it opens, two women come into view.
They walk to their car unaware of things to come.
My fingers twitched but then relaxes again.
Their car pulls out of the parking space.
The headlight passes over the door.
As it does so it opens, the target is here.
I get out of my car and walk towards him.
We are equidistance from his car and will meet beside it.
I planned it this way.
Head down, walking at his pace we get closers and closer.
As he gets to his car, he presses the key fob.
In an eye blink I raise my gun from under my coat.
And in deadly unisons as the car bleeped and the lights flashed.
My raised weapon pointing fires.
Its sound lost by the car unlocking.
The round enters the eye socket, and he drops in almost silence.
The crumpled body lays motionless beside his car and the next.
I turn and walk to my car, not fast, not slow, just forgettable.
In one motion I get in and start the engine.
Belt on, lights on, slowly I drive away.
I glance down at the body as I drive past.
I have time to exit and be gone before the discovery.
My sterile conscience serves me well.
Contract complete.
The Hit
