In a perfect world ~

In a perfect world, there’d be no wars,

famine, poverty, no settling of scores.

In a perfect world, there’d be contentment,

smiles, goodwill, no resentment.

In a perfect world, there’d be love and laughter,

stories would end happy ever after.

In a perfect world, boys become men,

don’t go to war wondering when

they’re likely to die, shot through the head;

blood spattered youths,  wasted, now dead.

In a perfect world, there’d be no politicians,

men in suits, no opposition.

In a perfect world, there’d be no mental illness,

plagues or disease, just a sense of well – ’ wellness’

but the World is not perfect, no Utopia, hence,

nothing is certain, little makes sense.

© Liola Lee 2010

So little makes sense in a warring world!

 

 

 

 

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Gangs

gangs glamorised on the street

youths hooded with designer feet

blades set to cut human meat

loaded weapons no thought to heat

a child murdered in his bed

bastard bullet through the head

why

just because someone said

one kid’s glory leaves another dead 

long ago they were innocent

life so sweet a luring scent

inbred badness or badness lent

by need greed or lack of rent

© Liola Lee 2007

I wrote this poem some 12 years ago when a 15 year old boy was shot dead in his bedroom in an apparently gangland-style killing in Peckham, South East London. There have been numerous stabbings and gang related incidences in recent times, and they are on the increase. We as a society need to sort this out. These senseless killings need to be stopped. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Resigned

Resigned

I’ve given up my job,

No thought to loss of wage;

I’ve given up on Dimland Bank,

They make me feel enraged.

For several years I really tried

To give them all I’d got;

From nine to five or six or more,

They took from me the lot.

Just another number,

Not a person, not a name;

Just another pawn,

In their monopolising game.

They call themselves

The Listening Bank;

This must be a farce;

Surely, this cannot be,

When their ears are in their arse.

© Liola Lee 1991

I wrote this verse shortly after handing in my resignation at the Bank where I had worked for 11 years after leaving school. 

Through the snow…

Through The Snow

‘Straight’ A student once,

A girl with dreams, girl with chance;

Chance of doing something great

Then a puppet with puppet’s fate.

Once in charge, once in control,

A girl with heart, girl with soul.

Sold herself to get a fix,

For something instant, something quick.

Started off with just a puff,

Then she knew she’d had enough.

A little later she met someone,

Made her laugh, have some fun.

He was on the trip before;

Now he had someone to soar

With open arms and dreams ahead,

Joined together, their habits fed.

They took a journey, rode together,

Through the snow for hell and leather;

They skied the slopes, down they went,

Destination not heaven bent.

For many seasons, the snow went on,

They wished so hard it would be gone.

They tried in vein to clear the snow,

Did not work – on with the show.

What started out, just as fun,

Soon took hold, now number one.

The blizzard blew, was blowing strong,

The journey hardened, miles were long.

They both knew, that change must come,

Or forever, they’d be undone.

It was hard, they missed their kicks,

Missed their snowman, missed their fix.

As time went by, they stayed together,

Bonds so strong, unbroken, never.

Against all odds, they stood the test

Of time immortal, deprived of rest –

Until such time as they had learnt

Lessons well, flames unburnt.

Universally sanctioned, arm in arm,

Gods did soften and free from harm.

It did not matter, had to be,

Star crossed lovers destiny;

But unlike Romeo, and Juliet

It was good that these two met.

Grim Reaper met the Cobra Queen,

She knew him, had known he’d been,

Her Karmic Prince for all of time,

Her main player, in her cosmic mime.

Lives interwoven, eternally linked,

Chained in melody, not chains that chinked.

United in a timeless love,

Gods just playing them, from above.

Before the end, the slope got steeper

For Cobra Queen and Grim Reaper,

But now they’re sorted, squeaky clean

Only God knows, what might have been.

© Liola Lee 2007

 

 

 

 

Girl in me…

However old we get, our inner child is always within us. If we look closely in the mirror we will see her…

There once was a girl,  a long time ago,

Where she is now, I do not know.

I wish I could find her, ask her to stay,

Where she is now, I cannot say.

I call her name, there’s no reply,

Where is she now? I wonder why?

I look in the mirror, what do I see?

Someone familiar, looking at me.

I look again, I stare, then see,

Looking back, is the girl in me.

I look again, I stare, I see,

The girl in the mirror,

Inside of me.