We lose our capacity
to remember the first time
when as a toddler, the groovy
cherub child with sparkling eyes
and father’s nose, when we became
the pain in the arse,
the ache in the side of our parents head
and the cause of arguments,
we forget the joy
of the first time we asked why?
We rebel, we glory in poking
a hole in the absolute,
we saturate our speech with this new found word
and not realising the implication
it will have on our lives,
I will put my life
in the hands of the sympathiser,
rather than the terrorist
at No 10.
Behind that closed black door,
sits the heart of Government
and stained and festering it is,
for terrorism needs no guns,
the terrorist requires
no bullet, bomb, just the press
in which to carry out the threat,
get old, we will kill you off,
become ill, we will kill you off,
lose yourself in the fog, we will kill you off,
become unproductive, uncared for,
I am a stranger,
so very strange,
in the town I live in
today, in the circle
and support group
I inhabit and even
if you look at my old
school report card
for Religious Education
during third year;
it will simply be scrawled,
who is Ian Hall?
I am a stranger, no sense, full of nonsense,
known only for dreadful dress sense
occasionally,
I am the stranger in my own thoughts,
I am the stranger lost in my own concept
It is but a vanity
to believe anything we do,
create, ultimately, means a thing.
We can only hope in the end,
that when time
chimes and begs us to depart the dance,
that we have at least managed
to make
one person smile,
one soul love us,
one mind changed
and one heart skip a beat
to know we have been in their life.
Ian D. Hall 2017
The handshake
from one who supposes himself to be God,
sarcasm overflowing and it is there
in plain sight, drool dripping in anticipation
of the take down, of owning a soul
and making them feel as stupid,
as insignificant
as an ant in a silver filled ant mound,
his home destroyed by the handshake
and the hose pumping hot toxic metal.
It was offered in a church,
both the biting sarcasm and the handshake,
both accompanying the sound of a section
of music that tinkled over the church hall pews
I don’t believe in burials,
outdated and morbid,
better to be free in the air,
to let your soul soar
through time than be in the ground,
cold, alone, aloof, who would want that;
yet if we still love each other
at the moment of passing,
I would want be safe with you,
let a future grave digger
find our bodies side by side,
holding hands
and perhaps your head resting
on my bony shoulders.
Ian D. Hall 2017
The dinosaurs
were not wiped out by an asteroid,
they just refused to
believe
that their time had come
and the people
were finally angry enough
to demand
that they pass away
and take their capitalist policies
with them.
Ian D. Hall 2017.
I don’t envy
at all,
that you get to play
with the helium all the time,
I don’t require the need to
hog it, to keep others
from dipping their fingers
into the fun
and pulling the vital resource
into ever quicker decline,
I have used it once,
I enjoyed it
and whilst I would like to hear
someone else giggle as their voice
went higher and more ridiculous,
I have no envy that you keep it
wow all to yourself;
There is a carving, whittled by skeletal hand
and conceived of by a man angry with God
that sits beyond Time and the whistle
of a train carrying death.
I echo those thoughts, even as an atheist,
I repeat the philosophy
daily, not out of spite, not out of fear
and retribution by those seeking revenge,
just honesty,
that if there is a God,
for the wrongs done in her name,
the next time we meet,
she had better apologise.
Ian D. Hall 2017
Yes, it is a victory for common sense
and decency, our Gallic cousins
showing the way to truly be
a member of the Human Race,
yet let us not forget,
let us make sure we remember
that despite the horrors
visited upon the French
by a despicable regime
in our grandparents’ time,
that eleven million of them
still unbelievably backed
a party steeped in fascism;
that is the point,
that a third who voted
saw the opportunity to seize the past
once again.