“Sorry, All Out Of Mercy...”

Is this really who we feel we are now... have become, want to be...?

Where’s the love, compassion, patience... humanity’s camaraderie

Sense of community, no... that’s an archaic concept is it not?

Nowadays we’re born of numbers, into a post-code, a coloured slot 

Where has all the empathy gone, you know the thing that defines us, from beast

Could it be ‘cause of their concoctions, war mongering, stirring... brewing us with hate’s yeast

Or is it more sinister; that we’re exhausted, our food poisoned... chemically depressed  

Tranquillised, in a lethal lethargy from the media’s drip feed of forced apathy... frankly just too fucking stressed! 

Sorry, I shouldn’t swear but then again why f&@king not? 

When will we start to question the rules, the system the whole God damn, f’ing lot!

Divided we’re conquered, bloodied and beaten; disillusioned to the core

Yet we’re stuck on a loop, repeat our history and amplify more discord 

Like a symphony, without a melody, that clearly doesn’t have a key

Worker bees... an army of ants... slaves not realising we are free

As even shackles break, under burdens of the heaviest deceit 

For God’s sake... they’re not even hiding it; there are track lines in the sky

Chem trials of subterfuge; one by one we’re thinned... we die

I’m not asking for a revolt... I’m just asking you to care 

For your neighbour who is lonely and is dying in her chair 

For the family who are homeless due to the rocketing of rent 

For the suicidal graduate who’s fallen foul of what was lent

For the veterans who live in war zones, still, repeated in their heads

For the hungry and the poorly for the justice of the dead

I’m not asking you to armour or to hold hate’s weapons high 

I’m just asking you to hold up one another; be susceptive when each cry

For my friend we all are broken and if not... your time will come 

So let’s join as if a jigsaw, come together flow as one 

For I promise you the rewards are much greater, when are shared

When we each shine in uniqueness but run united as a herd

One of morals and of kindness and one that actually makes some sense

Let’s now banish hate to darkness; let’s make greed something of past tense 

Yes I know I’m an idealist but please tell me why... that’s wrong?

For haven’t we tried this dire existence... for far too f**king long 

So when next you may hear it muttered... “sorry, all out of mercy”

Please hug that sister or that brother and remind them... they are free!

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Childhood Seasoned Days

Cardboard box, fluffy cats with revolving, scouring pad tongues

Teapot police hats, head-gobbler dryers and sherbet filled lungs  

Autumn leaf, stealth, helicopters on which brave pixies would ride 

Soda-pop coloured rainbows and dreamy star filled pies

These things I’d often ponder when finding faces in the clouds 

Or when playing under the old railway bridge my voice echoing out loud 

Never eating our curly-haired crusts, as for the birds we’d leave 

I’d often find rare precious treasures later tucked up in my sleeve

Over and over from my slippery shadow, I’d try to sneak away 

School lunchtimes I’d make houses on the playing-fields with shallow walls of hay

These were the days when summer holidays seemed to stretch on for years

Where we’d explore strange new lands under the cover of corn-ears

In Winter we’d make grand snowmen and killer sledging slopes, we’d seek

Hanging upside down from a climbing frame, until I couldn’t feel my feet

In August we’d all go blackberry picking and come home with purple hands

Then we discovered Guns and Roses and set up a ‘Bandanna’ band

When I was young, my brother and I would enjoy themes of role play 

Making magical games and creations in very imaginative ways 

We’d fly across galaxies, swing through jungles and sail across rough seas

We’d build laundry-basket space rockets and  blanket-dens with deck-chair feet  

Our favourite night was a Friday; chip shop, sausage, pop and chips 

Smothered in Vaseline to prevent us getting chapped lips  

Making square crisp sandwiches, Cadbury’s buttons squeezed between 

Hollowing out turnip lanterns; trick-a-treat sweets lasting weeks

I remember flying down the carpeted staircase on Mum’s old bathroom mat

Baking with Grandma, having elevenses and then comparing our rolls of fat 

I remember playing with the Whirligig and Mum’s pristine washed sheets  

Making it into a Spring maypole, nearly garrotting my brother... what a scene! 

Those days of innocence I fear today have been, forever, stolen away

From our daughters and sons and from all the children of this age  

As now they’re plugged in and imprisoned in their bedrooms and in their homes 

As unlike when we were kids, it’s not considered safe for them to roam 

So for the youth of this generation I am gravely saddened; as you’re not telling me...

That any PlayStation or Xbox thingamajig is as fun as Hide and Seek

Especially when it’s played in a derelict house with a ghostly story to tell 

Or climbing trees with grubby knees or on your bike... freewheeling down the fell

I remember those days fondly and indeed, all whom were there 

Even when I sat on an ant’s nest and got a brush stuck in my hair

When we fed and rode on donkeys which, of course, we were forbidden to do

Or when we ventured up to the reservoir and swam carelessly to get cool 

For Bonfire night we’d always collect wood and pennies for the Guy

Halloween, we dressed in black dustbin bags, and on broomsticks we’d fly. 

Enjoying baked, tinfoil potatoes and treacle toffee from a tray

Watching Dad set light to fireworks, never feeling afraid 

So when I see the leaves fall and turn to fire hues at this time of year

I look back upon my childhood with a smile and a wistful tear 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

https://debbiegreenrazey.blogspot.com/2019/10/childhood-seasoned-days.html?m=1

Unfurl Me

unfurl me

pull me open 

part my petals

...with your lips

encircle me...

tease my oyster 

touch my waters 

take a sip

embrace me

with devotion

slide... your balmed palms

across my hips

slowly... dip

in my ocean

oh, so gently

fingertips

overwhelm me

with emotion

quench my passion’s

YOU shape... fix 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Norsemen’s Raid Of Lindisfarne

Auben crown of braids, shimmering, o’er his woad, war-painted face 

That has seen afore... battles of vicious foe 

Etched deep with furrowed scars, aged weathered mud mask, lattice of lace  

Blue piercing eyes of steel that still, trauma tows

Stands proud on Langskip, at longship’s bow, perusing all at sea   

Carved dragon head snarls, serpentine coil o’er prow 

Carmine and alabaster sails of blood and bone... billow free    

Decks flood, precariously, as ocean’s ploughed  

Around his neck Thor’s hammer hangs to shield his warrior’s soul

Glints, pride of place, ‘neath Freyr’s gossamer bright beams

Coveting a brave death; to him like siren Valhalla calls

Sanguinary destiny... for him it’d seem 

Charging forth through equine waves on oceans of aquamarine 

Through torrents of tears, as Rán nets drowned, deceased

Sky sinks its weary blush head, sun bleeding out upon sea’s sheen 

Thor’s thunder claps, o’re head, as clouds they crease 

Velvet night draws in, twinkling jewels... signposting him to war 

‘neath Loki dances ‘pon mast, summons... Slepnir 

In jet black sky, shooting stars; or is it Odin’s steed, afar

Come to lead the raid as emerald shores grow near   

At last, Isle of Lindisfarne (Holy Island) comes into sight 

Landing ransacking siege, ripped book from gemmed sheath 

Plundering Priory’s gold, leaving sole scholar to scribe plight

Illuminate gospels, spared... St Cuthbert’s creed    

So although Norsemen came and went, the manuscript stayed in tact 

Book’s gilt case that was seized, wasn’t treasure you see

T’was fine scriptures of insular art, that lay within... in fact 

Sadly literature, bar runes, Vikings lacked.  

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Doom’s Excalibur

Over the cobbled streets of doom I tread

Even though I’ve still not got out of bed

You see doom lurks, bewitching in my head

And off my anxiety it is fed

Turning cobbles to paths of molten coals 

Sucks my dreams and passions into black holes

Changing faces of friends to that of foes 

Blotting out joy and blinding me with woes 

You see doom eats away at who I am

It tells me I can’t... even when I can 

I fight it back but then it floors me, WHAM!

For my family it cares not a damn

Gratitude’s a weapon I hear it told

Stronger in loves sacred circle, twofold 

Like Excalibur... it’s magic of old

But it takes strength to keep within your hold

So as the mist of doom rises once more

I’ll count blessings, draw curtains... bar the door

With my new found courage let out in roar 

This incantation’s chant of old lore 

“I am good enough just the way I am 

  I can do anything... oh yes I can

  I’ll conquer my fears and defeat ill thoughts

  I’ll learn to love myself... just like I ought” 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Peace Stealer (Chronic Illness)

  

When your loved one’s dying at your hospital bed 

And what once was love feels more like resentment instead

When the pain is too raw so you retreat and feel numb 

When you want to live but fear you're already dead 

When your skin craves warmth but just can't handle the sun

And when your food won't stay down yet you still weigh a tonne

When you hate your reflection but you need from it more! 

When you crave adventure but are too tired for fun

Would to close be to open another Hell’s door

And would I still feel I'm falling if I lie on floor

Would I do things differently?!? To get same outcome????

Would I love less intensely so to feel less sore 

All I know it's a spectrum, different sides, same coin

So if I'd lived oppositely we'd still be adjoined 

All our words, choices and actions, add up to soul's sum 

Self worth’s not just good health... from illness peace is purloined 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Red

Crimson drops on porcelain tiles

Tear stained tracks she rode on for miles

Conjuring nightmares stole her days

He left and yet the darkness stayed 

The sparks they gave did not ignite 

An inward peace which was her plight 

Pills, though many, would not oblige

To cease the moon caught in her eyes 

Negatives of what might have been 

Hued tragic Shakespearean scene 

In crawlspace she once more retreats 

Red stretcher glides... snow underneath

Half became whole, two became one 

Ripped apart, their lament lives on

Empty locked box where grid was found

Gave world her words... left without sound 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry