little step by step: Star City, Gagarin Cosmonauts Training Center

little step by step: Star City, Gagarin Cosmonauts Training Center: Wednesday 29 June 2016  Star City in the Cold War days was a top secret Soviet Military Base where Yuri Gagarin prepared for his &#39...

Mother Earth is Crying

How blind can we be

how many years will we

spend ignoring the

death of humanity?

another ancestry race abolished

one more rainforest demolished

countless gallons of oil

spilled into the deep black sea

how many more times will

the media fill ours heads with grime?

conspiracy theories ignored

covering up industrial crime

a shield that holds

the monsters at bay

is full of bullet holes

fabrications falling away

injudicious behaviour to ask for proof

meaningless distracting

to avoid the truth

ingenuous ability to disguise

the uncontrollable lust

sexual performances

of those in power

the ones we are meant to trust

puppets on a sting

singing mindlessly to their tune

children are left starving

whilst public school boys

race to the moon

the poorest

their hope is

to plant a seed

watch it grow

into food to feed

the hungry mouths of their young

until their master comes along

to steal away their sweat

blood and tears

while he fills their hopefulness

full of doubting fears

counting his money

to suckle his greed

not a thoughtful moment

for the land that he will bleed

till the river run dry

the soil turns to dust

till there is no longer

the flight of the seagull

to colour the sky

I hear mother earth

as she weeps every morn

for the countless babies

that will be born

created for the slaughter

yes, raised for the kill

a humiliating life

grown up in pig’s swill

but we do that to each other

force our fellow man

to live a hellish existence

whilst we hide in glass houses

ensuring they do not cross

the electrified fence

Mother Earth is weeping

how much longer can

we live in denial

Mother Earth is crying

well, that ought to

wipe the smile

off the face of consumerism

Mother Earth is dying

I think it is time to listen.

MedusaMoon c2015

Siren’s Song

She held a pocket full

of men thick as thieves

men whom worshipped

at her gate

shipped wrecked at the

edge of her beauty

alas these merry men

where all too late

moulds alongside gold

laid scatted at her

tiny bare feet

shape shifters

ghosts swimming in

the misty sea air

sailors with their

battered hearts crushed

against razor sharp rocks

many a tale had been spoken

of the destroyed hearts

which lay broken

at the shoreline of

her scarlet gown

she sang the siren’s song

a wailing into the night

as she stood on the shore

helplessly watching men drown

gifts of diamonds, silver

countlessly disregarded

treasure chests

sharks swimming around

in meaningless cycles

whilst desperately clinging

to her amble breasts

mermaids sang the

siren song

ringing out a warning beware

confess your love for her

our mistress whom is so fair

as she laughs at the sound

of empty trumpets blown

by men whom adore

the lady stood waiting

on a distance shore

a bright new light awakens

she watches its dawning

she shakes her long red

locks of seaweed hair

she entices every man

without a single care

to dance with her

if they dare

to try to capture her

attention

the chains of time

cut deep into her

irony flesh

time was her crime

all she had was time

inside she wore

the siren’s song

saddest notes engraved

upon her lost soul

the constant

relentless remainder

on these reckless shores

she does not belong

imprisoned by a man

who tried to steal her

essence to behold

the rejection of his advances

led to a reduction in

the many chances

she had of growing gracefully old

his wrath placed on her head

he showed her no sympathy

enslaved her onto

the hardest stone

upon the roughest seaside

insisting that she would

remain captive in full sight

 a possession held close

to his dark side

possessed by narcissistic

brutal controlling pride

injudicious in his choice

slowly watching

as she died

loneliness her eternal companion  

isolation crept into every pore

silent screams

broken dreams

until she could withstand no more

she called upon Neptune

as she heard he was a saviour

punish this King for his

outspoken behaviour

Neptune replied

“Sorry dear, this is not

my plight,

I cannot engage within

your lover’s fight”

“Why not communicate

what it is that you want

I ensure you his rage

is only a front”

“Look behind his mask

he wears it so well

open your heart

thus you break the spell”

as she watch Neptune depart

her own fury raged

how can I love him

when he has me caged

she would not conform

into what he wanted her to be

nor did she understand

why he could not set her free

love is insensitive

love is blind

love is reckless

love is unkind

she held a love for the depth

of the bluest sea

 it was a magnificent ocean

she watched its ebb and flow

the waves of its emotion

she decided on that day

that she would rather die

in solitude all alone

than live inside a palace

a million miles from home.

MedusaMoon c2015

An Apology to Shaker Aamer

In flight

destination unbeknown

hopefulness that an

unforeseeable

final journey

is met with

indescribable joy

held in his

wife’s arms

the sanctuary

his sought

children gaze

in disbelief

years containing

unresolved grief

a distant memory

of the father

they have never known

echoes of

lost past

children

unrecognisable

unfamiliarity

strangers meeting

at the entrance

gate to liberation  

touch down

onto solid ground

breathing in the

taste of freedom

deliciously damp

cool air

so familiar

fourteen years

their father’s

absence

media’s portrayal

betrayal  

of his

presence

sons and daughters

all grown up

stolen years

snap shots memoires

of empty chairs

unlike the

torture seat

forced fed

to prevent starvation

tubes forced

insensitively

deep down

intrusive invasion

into empty

hollow throat

miscarriage of

justice

causing him

to choke

on the words

unheard

as he spoke

of his innocence

mistaken identity

isolation

solitary confinement

360 days sat

in silence

for being

non-compliant

tortured into

false confession

windowless cell

head smashed

against concrete

wall

brutal treatment

200 interrogators

rise and fall

hunger strike

starvation

is powerful

shrinking away

from the blame

2007 cleared for

release

not set free

security concerns

2010 cleared for

release

still detained

how can this

outcome be

acceptable

property destroyed

any form of

identity stolen

inhuman acts

unacceptable

5,000 nights

in captivity

released

without

charge

of

any

crime?

Shaker Aamer

as a fellow human being

dwelling on this

planet

accept my apology

for the brutality

you had to endure

my respect to thee

alongside your family

may your courage

encourage

unity

once more.

MMc2015

Tin Soldiers

A collection

of tin soldiers

each one

a formulation

of the lost

parts of self

dust

covered

tin soldiers

left sat

on the shelf

lined up

in single file

left to rust

tin soldiers

once lived inside

a solid

iron box

neatly tied

together

each one

holding a

memory

of his

unresolved hate

towards the boys

who use to taut

him in

the battle field

a representation

his inner warzone

the recurring 

haunting

memoirs

of his misplaced

youth

fighting his corner

on his own

no-one would

believe his

courageous proof

only

causes more

destruction

on rainy

unmanageable days

those tin soldiers

seem to spout

hurtful names

words to tease

recalling helplessness

silent airy corridors

push down

onto his knees

every tin soldier

wears outdated

abusive remarks

the pushing

the shoving

unnoticed

black, blue

and red marks

the bruises 

the bumps

he wore on

his head

he hid those

scars so well

underneath the bed

where he would

fearfully hide

trying to block out

the mockery

all consuming

painful torment

held inside

praying

no-one

would find him

as his tears

would run dry

minutes

lost in suffocation

whilst holding

his breath

in the boys room

watching his pride

swilling down

the drain pipe

thoughts of

wanting to die

to prevent

pointless nightmares

no-one heard

the doves cry

a collection

of tin soldiers

dismantled

demolished

destroyed

a reflection

of his inner self

a nobody

a void

experiencing bullying

feelings never been

explored

trauma left unspoken

a voice inside

informed him

he was broken

five fragmented

tin soldiers

lock in the attic

pulling down

the draw bridge

ensuring

the strangers

are kept at bay

locked inside

a tin box

turning into rust

timelessly sealed

broken bones

never heal

they turn

into unforgotten

dust!

MM C2015

Why Don’t You?

“Why don’t you

just get a grip?”

numerous

occasions

others

utter these

fly away comments

as they fall at

her feet

she dare not

step on

these statements

razor sharp

sentiments

a reassurance

that her depression

is an annoyance

avoidance

is a healthy

game

if they could

only see

how hard

she hangs on to

her sanity

without

going slightly

insane

she wonders

what her sadness

challenges within

do their little

scary monsters

shiver behind

thick skin

is depression

contagious

she so wants

to ask

“Why are you

just not grateful?”

she ponders if

they are serious

words formulate

delusions recreate

she is just

delirious

grateful?

Grateful

for the moments

when the demons

living inside her

head were

not all wishing

that she was dead

at the same time

grateful for the

silent seconds

silence

before the rage

tip toeing

around land mines

surrounding

their insincerity

explosions

of suppressed pain

misdirected  

an addition

to her accumulation

of toxic shame

“Why can’t you

see how lucky

you are?”

define lucky

please inform

her what the

hell lucky

really means

does it mean

that this mental

unwellness

was a gift?

fortunate

to experience

a daily routine

waking up

every day

praying that

the darkness

is going to be

kinder

today

is that what

they mean?

she holds

no purposefulness

inflicting

her misery upon

another

she asks for no

counsel

so why do they

bother

misunderstood

so alone

isolation

barbwire fences

are etched

around each

bone

holding her

together as

the only feeling

well-known

is painfulness

“Why can’t

they just see me?”

she needs not

a solution

the glue

they are

trying to impose

the colours

to cover her

true blue

she wishes

it would fix her

just as if she

were a broken

fragile china doll

twenty minutes

to just attentively

listen to her need

a comforting cuddle

as her insides

start to bleed

as if by magic

she would start

to grieve

letting go of

the past

if just for a moment

they could sit in

her corner

placing on her

worn out shoes

the ones with

the hole in

the soul

compassion would

replace

the coldness

may leave

without a trace

she could then

feel able

to be more

real

remove

the masks

attached to

her lonely

face

as they

ask how

does it

feel?

MMC2015

Silence!

Silence

speaks louder

than words

silence

echoes volumes

of unspoken

emotion

anger

disappointment

frustration

hurtful

withdrawal

from her devotion to

him

punishing

powerful defense

his silence

feels as

if it holds

icicles

as moments

pass

stalactites

drop down

deeply into

her shameful heart

the closer

a movement towards

him

the further

the pushing apart

avoidance

from facing

a truth

ice cubes

rubbing

frozen salt

into open

wounds

argumentative

disagreements

silence indicates

it must be

her fault

every jigsaw

puzzle

needs all the

pieces collectively

assembled equally

to create a picture

painted romance

the wallflower

in the corner

the hero

sat on the fence

they do not

stand a

loving chance

unless they

both learn

how to dance

in the moonlight

swaying to

rhythmatic flow

not

sat in silence

dissecting

the blame

self-righteousness

wrongful behaviour

justification

late at night

ramifications

replayed horror stories

feelings

running around

losing sight

of reasoning

as painful reflections

cause bitter memories

whilst constantly

reanalysing

the meaningless

fight

silence

fuels fires

burning sensations

on her tongue

belly becomes

an acidic washing machine

gaining an understanding

making sense

of what she

must have done

this time

to create

silence

turning colder

becoming numb

silence

the empty note

of the saddest

song

the tune

let unsung

silent souls

may learn to run

but broken hearts

never fix

silence

nor become

one!

MM c2015