Tag Archives: Child

Sweet Child of Mine

When I was knee high to a grasshopper [young] I was accidentaly a part of getting a girl pregnant, it takes two yeah! We were kids, but I wanted that bairn badly once I knew she was pregnant, like I have never wanted anything in my life before. The outcome was taken away from me, the appointment made without my knowledge or consent and the pregnancy was no more. If it is possible to love something/someone you will never see or feel or hold, then I loved my child with everything I have. I swore after that day, I would never put myself in that situation again and I haven’t. I love my partner, I love her son and I love his daughter like I would love my own. But I dont care what anyone tells me or says to me or tries to explain to me, it is simply not the same as having a child who carries the same genes as you. Blood IS thicker than water. I have no idea why, but I think about this more at Christmas than any other time of the year.

Take from me what you will
Steal my heart, my body, my soul
Rip the shirt from my back
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Take my home, my castle
Break my keep and lay it bare
Ransack my spirit, corrupt it if you will
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Take my desires, my dreams
Emprison them in the darkest deep
Make me a eunuch if that please you
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Love me, hate me, leave me, loathe me,
Extinguish the flame that burns inside,
Drown me in despair,
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Make me blind so I cannot see
The beauty that I sense before me
Make me deaf so I cannot hear
The cries of a child lonely in fear
Strip me naked to the bone
Torture me until I cease to groan
Take my tongue so I maynot speak
Disfigure me until I appear a freak
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine.

Inspired by one of my favourite tunes from Guns n Roses.

Posted over at dVerse as well, so pop over to take a look if you have the chance, you wont be disappointed.


Living With Myself

Lonely park bench
blissful mid afternoon sunshine glints
off puddles that ripple
disturbed by a gentle breeze
A man,
lonely as the bench he calls home
is in deep conversation
with someone only he knows.

They converse for hour upon hour
time, a concept neither respect
or fear.

Tuesday, just another day
much like any other
same park bench
same man
conversing with someone
only he knows.

Early morning mist lingers
unburnt by the suns early warmth
promises of
another beautiful day
in the life of
a lonely park bench.

Still is the air, restful
as the man who slept under
starlit skies.

So soon, the chatter of conversation
fills the void
like the dawn chorus
taken for granted
by the 9-5 army
marching on rations
of cholesterol soaked
bran flakes

“Hello mister”
rubbing his still sleepy eyes
is this a dream caught
between the realms of the real
and imagination
“mister, you ok”
ah, those words
music from a long defunct jukebox
of broken promises.

“want some coffee mister”
“does it come with nicotine”
“whats nicotine mister”
“never mind”
“i’ll ask my mammy”
with that, she skips away
a bird chasing its own song
unemcumbered by life

“mammy doesn’t smoke, sorry mister”
“but you can still have some coffee
cant you”
the last veil of mist
to reveal this day
the most glorious yet

“is this yours mister”
“whats it for”
sure this was still a dreamscape
the man yawned, aware
this was surreal, yet
somehow not.

That strange encounter
saved a mans life today
preventing hypothermia
from taking another innocent life
of a man who is not like you,
from a man who could not live like you
but a man who
Can live with himself.

This came about for a host of reasons. If you know Jethro Tull, you will know Aqualung, a song I find so sad, I tend to shed tears when I hear it. Then there was the old [to a child] man in the park I used to talk to as a bairn, unbeknown of the inherent dangers that would brng about today. And lastly, for the time I spent living rough, where the rest of the word passes by, ignoring the fact that you even exist. Hypothermia is the enemy of the homeless, no amount of paper or cardboard can repel it. Last of all, its for the people, who for whatever reason, spurn the life that the majority of us lead. Their bravery is testament to the human spirit.

A quote from Ian Anderson, frontman of Jethro Tull and composer of Aqualung.

“Aqualung wasn’t a concept album, although a lot of people thought so. The idea came about from a photograph my wife at the time took of a tramp in London. I had feelings of guilt about the homeless, as well as fear and insecurity with people like that who seem a little scary. And I suppose all of that was combined with a slightly romanticized picture of the person who is homeless but yet a free spirit, who either won’t or can’t join in society’s prescribed formats”.

Turn to Stone


Over at Poets United, we were offered this prompt, rightfully titled Soul’s Whisper. I have veered away from that which we were asked, but only because I just couldn’t think of anything better.

Sweet child of mine, pray to
your pagan gods of mercy,
do they even hear your words?
then despair, for there
is no absolution here,
only regret.

Sweet child of mine, pay homage
not to dieties of old,
but a new king of the heavens,
unburdened from expectation, of
mere mortal humanoids,
praying for their release.

Our Father

“Stop Child”

Which art in heaven

“Be warned”

Hallowed be thy name

“You do not want to feel my wrath”

Thy will be done in earth

“Enough of this charade”

As it is in heaven

Sweet child of mine, fear me
as you would fear death,
there is no power, or glory,
can defeat me,
dethrone me, nor
escape my ire.

Give us this day our daily bread

“I shall not tolerate this blasphemy child”

And forgive us our trespasses

“You wear my patience”

As we forgive them that trespass against us,

“I will not allow this in my presence”

And lead us not into temptation


But deliver us from evil

Sweet child of mine, face me
Look into the depths of my eyes,
Do you not see solace there?
Even though you provoke, incite
my annoyance, with
your effrontery

For thine is the kingdom

“This kingdom is MINE”

The power and the glory

“He cannot save you”

For ever and ever

“One look child, you know”


“I can turn you to stone”


Real Wild Child

The prompt over at dVerse is Wild, so here is what wild means to me. Based on a true story, with a tad of poetic licence here and there.

Born, the third son of the three,
The black sheep of the whole family,
A blue eyed boy, apple of his fathers eye,
Born to run ’till the day he dies.

Shocking blonde hair, wavy and wild,
Angelic smile, an innocent child,
Easy to love, but quick to hate,
Circumstance would seal his fate.

Trouble was never very far away,
Beating up older kids, day after day,
Growing up always offering authority the finger,
Moving around, never long would he linger.

Drugs and alcohol, his only two friends,
It was apparrent to all where his story would end,
From care home to care home, always on the move,
Of him society would often disapprove.

Often locked up in cell overnight,
His fascist gaolers spoiling for a fight,
Good cop, bad cop, the same old routine,
Ne’er a lawyer who could intervene.

Up yet again in the juvenile court,
No family nor friend to offer support,
Its a lonesome old road and it only leads down,
Another 6 months, courtesy of Her Majesty’s crown.

Under lock and key, caged in a cell,
23 hours daily, shackled in hell,
In this claustrophobic hole he would be confined,
To this way of life he became so resigned.

Released 6 months later, he stares at the sky,
Wishing he had wings, so that he could fly,
Escape this life and start anew,
This was not the life he wished to persue.

It was not God, nor religion he sought,
He relied on his mind, believed in his thoughts,
He got into this mess, all on his own,
Because this was the only life he had known.

The time was now, to turn this life around,
The changes would come, some deep and profound,
Stripping ideals and principles down to their core,
The temptations before him he would have to ignore.

The change came about, slowly at first,
Some morals and beliefs he had to coerce,
The struggle went on, day after day,
Offers of assistance he would turn away.

On his own two feet he independantly stood,
Often renounced and misunderstood,
The life of crime was to be left behind,
To his new way of life he became slowly aligned.

The drink and the drugs relinquished their hold,
No more would they keep him under their morbid control,
This bold metamorphosis was now holding sway,
His former life, left in despair to decay.

Looking forward with purpose and a new expectation,
Viewing his life with a new inclination,
With the love of a woman and the joy of a child,
This man bids farewell to a life once thought so wild.

Mountain of Fire

The pall of acrid smoke,
Hung like a baleful mist,
As the mountains succumbed to fire,
Once again.

Flames danced like hypnotic cobra’s,
Licking the vegetation,
With forked tongues,
Of burning despair.

Ruination of corn and wheat,
Scorched beyond redemption,
Conflagration of Hell,
Hear thy supplication.

Oh bairn of loving mother,
Fear not, for,
Whilst the earth screams its anguish,
You remain safe in my arms.

[bairn–noun Scot. and North England .

a child; son or daughter.]
Submitted to,


Child Montage

Just another of my little video montage’s this time with children as the theme, hope you find something to tickle your fanci 😉

1: When a Child is Born, Johnny Mathis

2: Sweet Child O’Mine, Guns N Roses

3: Child in Time, Deep Purple.

4: The Man with the Child in His Eyes, Kate Bush

5: Belfast Child, Simple Minds

6: Children of the Revolution, T-Rex.

7: If You Tollerate This Your Children Will Be Next, Manic Street Preachers.

8: Real Wild Child, Iggy Pop

9: Jesus to a Child, George Michael

10: Motherless Child, Eric Clapton.

Every single one of these songs mean something to me. Thats why they went in, but it would take all night to tell you all the reasons, so I wont.