Temporary vehicles.

We are all temporary vehicles
On a road to Jerusalem.
Temporary vehicles.
Ah la
Temporary vehicles.
In time of sun.
We all run to fields of gold.
We are all temporary vehicles
In this theatre of dreams.
Falling through this
Stage of fright.
Temporary vehicles.
On a road to ruin,
Of age and decay
Temporary vehicles
In this body of sin,
True soul of love
Lives within.

poem by Peter Vealey
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Losing things.

I`ve been losing things,
All my life.
Cameras, people, towels, phones
Lovers, friends.
I am always anxious
For the postman to call.
Losing things.
Waiting for a mirror to fall.
Too suspicious to walk
Under the ladder of it all.
Losing things.
Yet can`t grasp it all.
Losing things.
Objects, losing things.
I`ve been losing touch.
Finding so much
In everything.
Losing things.

poem by Peter Vealey
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Where Did My Country Go?

Where did my country go?
Its not here in my garden.
The innocence of flowers, weeds and bees.
Are unchanging, yet refreshing.
And what of my fellow countryfolk?
Neighbour, communities,
Helping one another.
Friends, love, tears and emotions,
Does not sit easy at all.
With 'private' this and 'privatise' that
For the 'feelgood' factor
Doe not necessarily include
COMPASSION!

poem by Peter Vealey
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Today?

There was a day.
It wasn`t this.
It seemed the be all of everything.
Today?
But it was yesterday.
Who was fooling who?
There was a moment,
It wasn`t this.
You had it all in your grasp.
The power was with you.
You seemed alive beyond
Dispute.
But that was then, this is now.
And who is fooling who?
Maybe it was
All just an illusion anyway.
There was a day,
They said it was today!

poem by Peter Vealey
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Daddy Longlegs

You're in my urban world.
In the countryside.
Lame on the bottom of the bath.
Daddy Longlegs.
I look to see signs of life.
Unsteady, slight movements are observed.
Pick up precarious.
I am seriously
Worried.
You will not survive
My clay hands.
Daddy Longlegs.
With a wish and a prayer,
You are gone.
Out of my window for
A song.
Released to your world.
Do not come back here.
It is not safe!

poem by Peter Vealey
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Sockets.

Everything comes down
To sockets.
Your either getting into
Or withdrawing.
Painfully, recklessly or carefully.
Power, sex, money
Amid connections.
Whatever you do
However hard you strive
For your nirvana.
Sockets, sockets!
It all begins and ends
On joining together
In passionate, fresh loving innocence.
Only to end
Often years later.
In affairs of renewing vigour,
In search of
Fresher socketry..

poem by Peter Vealey
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Sundancer.

New weekends
Come and too soon gone.
Are only faded fragments.
Distorted.
In your face.
A life aborted.
Youth was ours.
Like everyone,
The garden party
Was always
Food left over.
Never as good
As in your mind.
Mothers` tired frown,
When the night
Had passed.
At all the clearing up
To be done.
Next year we`ll plan
It better in

[...] Read more

poem by Peter Vealey
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Befores

It could all start again.
(And maybe end as well!)
Just a piece of paper.
An acceptance of notice!
(A requirement of proof of identity) and interest maybe!
An orange piece of paper.
A scrap, a twinkle in your eye.
I am enchanted, you're curious!
Who knows.
Wanting begins, despair ends.
It could all start again.
Stress relieved, direction back on line.
Health returned.
Befores, afters, all is new, fresh
Revived. reborn.

poem by Peter Vealey
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Observations Part 1.

.
Was in a pub
Watching the traffic of
Life.
Norah Jones wafting
Over the airwaves.
Different couples and faces
Moving on.
The tightness of youth.
(The wherewithal of now!)
Sucking chips upside-down
'T-minus one! '
Thrown in
Alone with their
Insecurities.
Again watching
The traffic of life.
The world don`t get no better
At each others pain.
Thinly related stories

[...] Read more

poem by Peter Vealey
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Just another suicide song.

Everyword i write here
Is a scar.
Of the pain.
Living without your love.
Like blood from a gashed arm.
Accidents are part of life.
And the wounds of relationships
Never get much easier to bear.
Everyword i wrote today
Was a scar.
Of the hurt of
You not wanting me back.
And the blood from a gashed broken heart.
Are there for all to see.
Accidents are part of life.
And the skeletons of relationships
Never get any easier to handle.

poem by Peter Vealey
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