Thursday photo prompt spectral #writephoto

This is my entry for Sue Vincent of Daily Echo #writephoto.

Rules and Pingback Here

There it stood, in the early morning mist. Nothing but a shell, no heart or soul left. The mist concealing the true horror of what was left. Even after all these years I could hear the crackle of fire and the screams of those trapped inside.

They had built the house here in the middle of nowhere to impress on those incarcerated in there, even if they got through the locks or the bars on the windows that there was no where to go.

I had been there ten years before James arrived . He was so beautiful, in soul and body. He was a nurse on my wing and I soon fell in love with him. He, to his credit, did take over a year to fall for me. Yet fall for me he did and we planned to leave the house and be together forever.

We bided our time, this was good because we needed to lay our plans well.

Finally the night we had decided upon to leave arrived. James finished his shift at 11pm and he came to my room where I was packed and waiting.

James had everything planned to a tee. We were to leave as the staff handover was taking place, he had already made his excuses to get away without attending the meeting.

All went well and he hid me under a blanket in the back of his car. We were three quarters of a mile away from the hospital when he spotted the fire. I begged him not to stop I begged him to drive on but he told me to stay hidden in the car and he left me.

He ran back to the hospital and I followed him. I never saw him again, he died along with everyone else that night. No one survived, no one escaped. It took the fire brigade an hour to arrive by that time the screams had stopped and only one wing of the building was left ruined but standing.

I come back here every year on this day, the day the fire happened. I only wish the fire had not spread so fast, that the fire had not killed the electricity that locked the building down…that they all had died.

As 11.15pm arrives I see them coming out of the ruins they all walk hand in hand past me. I reach out to touch James, as I do every year, but he doesn’t look at me. Over his shoulder he calls, “I forgive you.”

I know I set the fire too well.

Even Stephen, 25 years on.

Even Stephen had a right to life

But it was snatched away by the blade of a knife.

Snatched away on the dark night 22nd April 1993.

Five or six youths with knives, if that is even Stephen, I fail to see.

Even Stephen had a right to an unbiased investigation

Did it happen … not at first but his mother’s protests rocked the Nation.

It was not even Stephen, what those boys did

It was not even Stephen that evidence and statements were twisted and hid.

Even Stephen had a mother true and strong

She has fought for justice for him making sure she’d right the wrongs.

Was it even Stephen that you’ve been robbed of twenty five years.

Stolen, your future, your hopes and dreams and all your fears!

Was it even Stephen that you had to die that night

But for changing buses you’d not of seen those boys, not died in your final flight.

You have left a legacy its true changed laws and procedures too

Was it even Stephen that they laid a plaque for you

Was it even Stephen that they vandalized it several times too.

Even Stephen, when was it ever, even for you?

Stephen Lawrence

I wrote about Stephen Lawrence first in 2013. God rest your soul Stephen life was never even for you. You deserve to be remembered especially today on the 25th anniversary of your murder.

Yo soy Barcelona and Cambrils

      Yo soy Barcelona   y Cambrils 

Sunny holiday,quiet happy day

Families and couples out at play.

Reving engine closed evil mind

This is man’s doing no God is that unkind. 

           ūüíúūüíúūüíúūüĆĻūüĆĻūüíúūüíúūüíú

 GOD, whatever name you choose,

Bless Barcelona.

Thoughts of London


Seven people have been killed and 48 injured, many of them stabbed, following a confirmed terrorist attack at two sites in London РLondon Bridge and Borough Market.

A van drove into pedestrians on the bridge and two separate eyewitnesses – one named Eric, another named Gerard – told the BBC that they saw men stabbing people in both sites, and heard them shouting: “This is for Allah”.

The three attackers have also been shot and killed – dying within eight minutes of the first call, police said. Police said that they believe there are no more attackers on the run.

The  source  of  the  above  is  The  Daily  Telegraph 

London night life fun

Evil mows people down,why

Death can’t be undone.

Fear in the market

The knives were out in Borough

Blood on the pavement.

London is my town

Torrorists won’t beat us down

London my heart and soul

Do your worst we’ll keep it whole.

We won’t bow to your will

We will stand, our spirit you can’t kill.

Evil madmen will never ever win

London will carry on, no giving in.

Even Stephen?

Even Stephen had a right to life

But it was snatched away by the blade of a knife.

Snatched away on the dark night 22nd April 1993.

Five or six youths with knives, if that is even Stephen, I fail to see.

Even Stephen  had a right to an unbiased investigation

Did it happen … not at first ¬†but his mother’s protests rocked the Nation.

It was not even Stephen, what those boys did

It was not even Stephen that evidence and statements were twisted and hid.

Even Stephen had a mother true and strong

She has fought for justice for ¬†him making sure she’d right the wrongs.

Was it even Stephen that you’ve ¬†been robbed of twenty years.

Stolen, your future, your hopes and dreams and all your fears!

Was it even Stephen  that you had to die that night

But for changing buses you’d ¬†not of seen those boys, not died in your final flight.

You have left a legacy its true  changed laws and procedures too

Was it even Stephen  that they laid a plaque for you

Was it even Stephen that they vandalized it several times too.

Even Stephen,  when was it ever, even for you?

 

Stephen Lawrence

I  thought  of  Stephen Lawrence  tonight  and  so  I  re-posted  this  poem  that I  wrote  about  him  in  2013. God  rest  your  soul Stephen life  was  never even  for  you. You  deserve  to be remembered!

Weep in the rain.

The  rain  falls, the  bitter  tears of what we have lost

We have  the  world  at  our  finger  tips  but at  what cost.

Weep in  the  rain, weep  for  the  hope that has  been  killed

Weep  for  the innocents  on  Friday  13th their  blood  was  spilled.

 

Frightened ¬†girls ¬†covered in ¬†lover’s blood, ¬†husbands ¬†holding ¬†dying ¬†wives

Bullets  flying, people dying. Smell of blood and  fear. Shattered bodies shattered lives.

All in  the name of  a faith. Terror, evil , fear  and  hate

We have ¬†learned ¬†nothing ¬†………. Now ¬†I ¬†fear ¬†it is ¬†too late.

 

Weep in  the  rain, weep  for  the  hope thats been  killed

Weep  for  the innocents  on  Friday  13th their  blood  was  spilled.

Bombs to bodies strapped, terrified  people  trapped will they live or die

I look these  evil  deeds done in  the name of  religion and I cry.

 

Drive  by  a  restaurant, people relaxing. They fire  at  random

Blood on  the pavement  futures, promises  and  hope  all gone.

Weep in  the  rain, weep  for  the  the hope  thats been  killed

Weep  for  the innocents  on  Friday  13th their  blood  was  spilled.

 

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Indescribable.Acrostic.

LindaGHill said: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: ‚Äúindescribable.‚Ä̬† Use the actual word in your post or just base your post on something that defies description. My suggestion on this one; think about something that you‚Äôre passionate about and just start writing.¬†

Here is  the pingback

Last  nights horror  in Paris  prompted  me  to  write  this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It cannot  be happening  again

No man  should  cause  his  fellow  this pain

Does no one  learn  from  what has  gone before

Each not  caring  for  the other, in  the  name of  a  god making war.

“Soldiers” ¬†they call ¬†themselves dressed in ¬†bomb concealing ¬†clothes

Carrying   machine  guns to  shoot innocents  they  do not  know.

Ruining the  ordinary  and  the  sane  and  all in  a prophets name.

In a  second  the  night  was  blown  apart

Bombs ¬†and ¬†bullets ¬†opening up ¬†rivers of ¬†blood at Paris’s heart

Allah would  not  really  want  all those lives  torn  apart

But man  has taken  his  words  and used  them  for his gain

Lost  the  meaning in translation  time  and time  again.

Evil it  seems  is on  the rise  with war  and hate its goal  and prize.

SoCS badge 2015

Rules  can be  found here 

Blood on the sand in the sun.

I have  reused   a poem  I  wrote  last  year  and  added  three  new  verses   as  a tribute  to  the innocent  dead  and  injured   in Tunisia  on Friday  26th.

_____________________________________________________

No more blood on the sand

How many  must die  at  your hand.

What do you hope to to achieve

What pain and sorrow will you weave.

You raise  your sword it glints in the sun

How  can you finish  the evil  you have begun.

How many innocents must die at your hand

How low will you sink  what else have you planned

No more blood on the sand

How many  must die  at  your hand.

What do you hope to to achieve

What pain and sorrow will you weave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Innocents  lie  in  the  sun

Relaxing  holiday  fun

Out  of  nowhere  evil  has  come

Evil, a man brainwashed  carries  a gun.

Fathers,  mothers , sisters, aunts  grandparents  and  sons

Dead  and dying  out  there  in the sun, evil stalking  with  granades  and  guns.

Staff from  the hotel  so brave  and  caring

Saw off  the killer, God  bless  them  for being  so daring.

I pray  for  the  dead  and  I  pray  for  the  survivors

I pray  for  families  who have  lost  loved ones

Young  hopes  and old  dreams  smashed and  now  gone.

All  for  evil  in  the name  of  isis, a  man with  granades  and  a gun.

Not the A to Z April Challenge : Underneath

The secret lies  buried underneath

Layer upon layer of grief

Under the damp scented loam

Where above feet do roam.

Unloved  and unwanted

Lost for evermore

Lost  haunted

Never

More

One Liner Wednesday : On Death

The Lovely Bones.

‚ÄúMy name is Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered.‚ÄĚ
‚Äē Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones

 

 

 

This ¬†is part ¬†of LindsGHill’s ¬†One ¬†Liner Wednesday ¬†do ¬†join in if ¬†you like ¬†rules ¬†here¬†

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