Death, Cause and Effect.

I wrote this story in 2014 but with the news of yet so many gang related killing in London and around lately. There have been so many knife crimes this year. In light of this I thought I would repost Death, Cause and Effect.

DEATH

It was quiet and dark and the sun through the window was warming him just enough to keep him alert now his fight had begun.

The bench was hard but he could take that, it was the pain in his side and chest which filled his being, everything else was flat.

Fear gripped his mind, he was so cold inside yet a sweat was rippling down his back. His sight was blurred, was he going blind?

Slowly a long hidden memory came to the fore. His mother had taught him it long before he had changed. “Gentle Jesus meek and mild look upon me a little child”

OH! Jesus if you are there help me now, I did not need you then but I do now. Jesus this pain is f###ing killing me, help me help me please. Slowly he slipped forward onto the floor a darkness washed over him and he knew no more.
~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are you going son. No, out, will not do! Listen to me boy I am asking you. Why must you run with that pack it seems to me now there is no coming back. What has happened to you, you were such a good boy at school I had hopes that you’d go far but your just like your brother playing the fool.
No your not wicked but you are not a fool and I am telling you this, in my book you’re not cool.”

“What are you doing with that? Give it me back , don’t you threaten me son I’ll give you a smack. OH! Please will you listen to me don’t take that knife it will not set you free from the boredom in your life. It will not get you a job, it won’t make you a man what has happened to you and your world changing plan? You had vision and hunger for work a decent and pleasant boy not as you are now , just a jerk.”
~~~~~~

Clearing up quietly the priest approached the the last row when something on the floor that caught the suns last glow. Red and sticky he knew what it was but he prayed to his God that it would not be true. The boy lying his arms out wide, blood flowing from his side. A thought crossed his mind but he dismissed immediately. He looked like Jesus did, you see. Arms out wide , blood from his side a cut round his forehead dripping, blood in his eyes.

He took out his mobile and took a deep breath as he dialled , ambulance, police he begged his mind running wild. The operator was telling him what to do, “Keep him warm and stem the blood is what I want you to do.” He ripped off his cassock and swaddle the lad he then notice blood on his jeans ( the best ones he had) He cradled the boy and prayed in his ear “keep trying to stay ask now, Jesus will hear.”

It was half an hour until anyone arrived the paramedic crew gently moved the priest to one side. It was too late the boy was gone, then with their radios crackling loud, the police taped the area off,with people from everywhere arriving, such a crowed.

Standing back and looking around the priest said a prayer with out making a sound. “Dear God take the soul of this boy who died here today and give him some peace, and if you have time help me find words to sooth his family, at least ” Then he sat down exhausted, he was just a man even though he was called priest.

A woman on her way home from work regretting an argument at the start of her day was wondering how to fix things and what she could say. She always said never give up, never leave a good word unsaid. Never leave things, sort them before you go to bed. Passing the church she saw her youngest boys friends , he wasn’t there perhaps they could make amends.

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

THE CAUSE

Photo found Here

He awoke with a jump. It was his brother rolling in drunk! Damn only 4am please don’t go over what’s to happen again. I know I must do this. I must prove myself.

It was all too easy a year a go when his best friend introduced him to the boys “you need to know” It had been simple things at first making old ladies jump, stealing traffic cones all laughing fit to burst.

When he was really trusted, got himself a name.Things became more serious it suddenly was a whole new game. They met the older boys, the ones with big fast cars. They all wore hoodies, bling and they all had facial scars.

It was money and messages that he had to run he was fit and had a bike.Now that is how easily it had begun. He often skipped school though not always willingly. There really was not any choice, what the big boys said, had to be.

His teachers all asked him why his work had slipped away he had a brilliant future and he had thrown it all away. He was a little worried but he shrugged his shoulders and wondered off, his teachers called him back but his friends told them to f### off.

Mum, she was desperate working on her own doing all she could to keep the house,the boys and make for them a home. The oldest she had lost him he had gone to drugs. She had tried so hard but he just robbed her blind and made her look a mug.The young one she had dreams for she had prayed to the Lord each day but now he was on the wrong track and now he was slipping the same way.

He knew he had become a waster, he knew that he was bad . It was the only way to be accepted and safe but the pain in Mum’s eyes made him feel bad. So he just avoided contact and hardened to her pleas. He was knocked back the other day when she begged him to stay home down on her knees.

He tried to ask his brother who ran with an older crew but he was useless as he was trapped there too. What chance was there, his brother asked, what was there for them to do there was no work or opportunities running with lads was at least something to do. It was all about status and how hard you are , what clothes you wore , what trainers and did you have a scar.
~~~~~~~~

His brother had one, on his face, from a fight with a rival gang. Okay it hurt , six days in hospital 17 stitches but he was now a big man??

Today was his chance to join the glorious crew. To take part in the big ruck was all he had to do.

Two weeks he had known about the fight , where and exactly when. It was on his mind both day and night . His thoughts were full of dread , through his blood ran pure fear it was nearly six now, the day was finally here.

Later in the kitchen when he was taking the knife , his mother caught him and shouted at him. He raised his hand to her for the first and last time in his life. Luckily she was small so he pushed her to one side as he crashed through the door and out the gate . His mother sat on the floor and cried.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Later he met the guys when mum had gone to work , they knew a squat they could use to complete their plan. By 4pm they were jumpy they were ready to a man.They left the squat and through the railings ran. Jumping , punching the air and making feral calls they had it now they all knew the plan, they had all the balls.

He wished he’d picked a smaller knife this one was too large . As he was changing it’s position. Into him a couple of the lads all barged. At once he felt a sharp and stinging pain as he fell to the floor, it felt worse again. His side felt wet and his forehead was cut where he had scraped along the floor..

By Banksy

What’s wrong man, stop messing we haven’t got the time it’s 5 o’clock now hear those church bells chime. Oh! hey you’re hurt man what did you do. You stupid f### you stabbed yourself. We have to leave you here, no good to have a burden on the crew.

His best friend helped him in to the church and sat him at the back , hold on, he said, laters. then ran off to join the pack.

So he alone now, life ebbing from his side thought of mum, school his brother and he cried. He asked the lord for comfort but comfort did not come. He prayed a childhood prayer from deep inside his mind. The priest found him,and he was very kind. He wrapped his chest and held him and asked him not to go . He tried to but he couldn’t stay he felt too tired, too low.

He heard the priests’ desperate call as he slipped away forget the ambulance he though and just pray for me today. The priest felt him go, but he would not loose his grip he felt he needed to guide this lost boy, some mothers pride and joy.

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

THE EFFECT

Image found Here

Getting off the bus and heading for home, she was tired her feet ached but she was determined not to moan. This was important, it had to be done she needed to put her whole being into saving her youngest son!

Pushing the front door shut behind her putting the bags down on the kitchen floor she looked into the living room but there was no one there. No television no shoot’em’up games standing in the hallway she called out both boys names.

OH! well, she put the kettle on and maybe she’d ring around she had both their mobile numbers but they did not always want to be found. The doorbell rings , damn she had only just sat down she, walking toward the door the phone begins to sing.

There it is the sight every mother dreads, a policeman and a policewoman , OH! god she thinks someone must be dead.
~~~~~~~~~

The hospital was noisy but she didn’t hear a sound her lungs were filling up as she were about to drown. She had been waiting for an age now, would no one take her in. She was feeling really sick now and and felt like things were crawling on her skin.

It was so cold in there and he only had a sheet on . God he looked so pale but she supposed that was what you would look like when all your blood was gone.

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

She woke up with the headache she had had since that day the shock of the police visit and what they had to say. She she knew she had to get up she knew she must today, it was the funeral and that would not go away.

Things had been different her elder boy had staid home he seemed to want to help his mother and not leave her on her own. She dare not hope he had changed but she was glad that he was there. She slowly put her face on and then she brushed her hair.

His friends were at the church like they had been that day , he was not not with them. Would this pain ever go away. The priest seemed glad to see her and he offer his support, she felt close to this man who was with her boy when for his life he fought.
~~~~~~~~~

His favourite track finished and the last notes drifted away she stood up and looked at everyone and said she had something to say.

She knew that there was no work and that there was not much hope but joining gangs and using guns and knives was not the way to cope. Please listen she pleaded you are slipping away too many lives are wasted too many die this way. Something must be done and it must be soon we are loosing a generation it might be two if something is not done soon. How many more mothers have to suffer like she was. We really need to sort this out……… her voice trailed off to silence as she repeated, how many more mothers like me.

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

The Day after Valentine’s.

It’s the day after Valentine’s and all is fine

The chocolates are eaten and they’ve drank the wine.

The house is quiet there is no one in

Unlike yesterday’s unholy din.

The love had lasted an hour or two

Then the wine got them talking truths as you do

Tempers got fraught and they came to blows

He broke the plates and she cut up his clothes.

She stormed out and he locked the door.

She drove the car through the window to settle the score.

The lawn is in a real mess

Covered in tyre marks and signs of distress.

The bricky and glazer are rubbing their hands

There’s plenty of work for them which is just grand.

This evening he will be home bearing flowers

There might just be peace for a couple of hours.

Both images from Pixabay

They.

They took my soul the took my heart

They took my  body and rent it apart.

They bound my hands and  my feet

Thet  threw  me naked unto the street.

 

They took my pain and showed it to all

They smeared my love against the wall

They pull my organs out one  by one

They stomped on my womb, they thought it  fun.

 

They rubbed  my excrement in my face

They poured my urine all over the place.

They laughed at  my anguish and agony

They ripped out  my eyes, still not finished with me.

 

They laughed at my  pleas  for rest

They cheered as they pulled my heart from my chest.

They fed my  bowels  to their dogs

They ate my lights as if they were hogs.

 

I asked them what was my crime

They hinted they’d tell me next time!

Gate Keepers : 8

They grew, these humans grew, they learnt  to build and make weapons new.

First wooden spears  and clubs  then flint and stone always they found a way to do

Just what suited them. Taking  always taking, never giving back

Gouging out huge holes, leaving scars never caring for mother nature never giving back.

 

They killed the beasts  they killed the birds then they began to kill each other.

The earth began to weep, stunned by the humans greed, she wept like any mother.

The gatekeepers sighed, they had seen the future they knew what was in store.

They could neither stop nor intervene they had seen the future and wept at what they saw.

They watched their gates, they protected their portals

Ensuring that the thresholds were never darkened by any mortals.

Still the humans grew  in might and greed perhaps in knowledge

Sadly the knowledge  was blinkered, and so towards destruction the surged and fled.

 

 

 

Running for life

Step after step I drag myself through the rain

Blind to all around me , my  mind closed to the pangs of pain.

Fear, hatred and panic screaming in my head, loathing causing in my veins.

Step after  blooded step , fast as I can and yet it is coming still gaining.

I stumble and fall , legs and arms graze I crawl no point in complaining.

Hot breath on my neck I shudder in fear I smell his rank sweat as he draws near

I feel his claws scrape at my flesh, I loose a scream of primal fear.

Ripping at my dress and  hair I run for my life, to look over my shoulder I don’t dare.

No choices left to me, naught I can do . I stand and face the beast  for death I prepare.

Eyes red as the devil pure evil it seems it closes on me the worst of all my bad dreams.

Caught in his clutches, mercy is not on the cards, so  I beg for divine intervention

Praying  hard, His nostrils are flaring he’s baring his fangs letting me live is not his intention.

Finally all I can do is fall on my knees and pray , why must this horror be my last of days.

Suddenly after a thunderous noise a white flash as lightening  carved him in half God be Praised.

Broken and bleeding I lay in the mud,my life slipping out of me no fight left no more……..

Child Abuse Awareness Month.

Today is the last day of April and I have to say I am glad. Everything I have researched, everything I have written about Child Abuse has made me sick and sad!  Children are our future a singer once sang, but he had, had his childhood stolen and he became a strange and sad man.

Yes children are our future but at this rate do we have one. Children are mistreated , abused, sold down the river in every single country under the sun. The poems I have written have all been stories but are all based on facts I researched , true.The things that are done to children, some beaten black and blue. Married off at eight or nine or sold in to slavery too, girls cut and sewn up simply to please a man, young boys dressed as girls and taught to dance bought and owned by “Pious” men and used for sex  after they have watched them prance.

Children and young people bullied at their school, harassed by phone and internet just for not being this weeks “cool” Young girls taken out of school and trained to be prostitutes the younger they are the better for old men like them best if they are cute. Stolen from their village and sent as slaves to other lands worked to death  and beaten  or used for sex acts and killed when it all gets out of hand.

Forced to watch their parents, their homes and friends destroyed, tortured and burned  or maimed. They get dragged off into the jungle as boy and girl soldiers to be trained. Young girls get used as wives, still fight until their babies drop then they carry them into battle on their backs to machetes in hand, kill people and set fire to bodies, villages and crops.

Young girls about to take their GCSEs  go on holidays to their parents homelands for pre exam treat have no idea they are off to their future husbands meet. Ripped from all they have known a normal western life suddenly to become a stranger’s wife and live a poverty stricken village strife

Children, abused and battered, some physically some mentally , sexually used from an early age . What chance have they got their heart so full of rage. Some will become  abusers for abuse is all they know, some will with help flourish and try to teach it should not be so.

No doubt there are more ways that children get abused, some parents even abuse their own children, sexually or with the fist, these will be the fathers who boast that their little girl is sweet sixteen  and never been kissed!  The otheres will be mothers’ who force or sell their children however much those children resist.

Or seeing your mother beaten until she is hospitalized , living in fear of being next until your humanity dies.

I know that I am ranting but as these tears fall from my eyes there are children out there starving, freezing , hurting, bleeding, screaming , pleading, broken , humiliated and every so often one of them dies. Don’t worry, you can close your ears and eyes … it is too late for me now I have learnt the who’s and whys.

I have to stop writing now , but I promise I shall not stop shouting out because I have just started now.

We must open our eyes.

Quick, quick look away

If we meet her eyes our hearts will melt and our emotions will have to pay.

No, no it is no business of ours

She is not our child, no matter how hungry she looks or the fact she is out all hours.

Hush , hush she is screaming again

That is not naughtiness that is real pain.

Shall we ring ..well maybe not,

Have you seen the size of  her mother’s boyfriend and his temper is hot.

Look, look she is out there again

Hardly any clothes on and it is poring with rain.

Look, look at those bruises on her legs and arms.

She is limping, look are those cigarette burns on her palms.

Why , why did we not say?

We saw the neglect get worse everyday.

We saw the violence getting worse,

We heard the boyfriend shout at her and curse.

We saw the way they both went out each night

Leaving her home, didn’t we all say that, that was not right.

OH! now that is so sad we all knew it was happening

But we said nothing and now we feel so sad.

That poor little might so small and defenseless

Last night by that brute was beaten senseless.

The ambulance came early this morning and took her away

She was dead on arrival …..isn’t that what they say.

So go one hold your heads up if you can

You all let a tiny girl’s life be taken by a shit of an excuse for a man, and a woman to weak to care for that child.

Now  she is also expecting another baby to replace her  in a short while.

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

Photo credits goodnews4u.net/

What are those tears what do they say

What is this little one here trying to say.

Is he being beaten, starved or sexually abused is hurting or has he passed pain

Has he already lost his innocence never to find it again.

Are his parents addicts to worried about their next fix

To worry about him as he plays with his bricks.

He has so few toys that these bricks are so important to him

He sleeps with them eats with them in their special tin.

The floor is dirty and littered with muck

And there are discarded needles which his thin little legs have already pierced and stuck.

No food in the fridge and the cupboards are bare

He is thirsty and hungry  but his parents no longer have the will to care.

Sometimes he finds his way out of doors

And goes through the rubbish risking rats and cats claws.

He just might strike lucky and find some food

Then he will drink from a puddle , yes this does sound crude!

If they find him it will be too late,

Hunger, neglect and needles sticks have decided his fate.

They will say he is feral the poor little soul

Who knows nothing of being loved and cradled against the cold.

Can  this happen how can this be true……….

Yes it does all around us , yes I am telling you true.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Two more poems I have written  for Child Abuse Awareness Month.

The Cause

The Posse

He awoke with a jump. It was his brother rolling in drunk! Damn only 4am  please don’t go over what’s to happen again. I know I must do this. I must prove myself.

It was all too easy a year a go when his best friend introduced him to the boys “you need to know” It had been simple things at first making old ladies jump, stealing traffic cones all laughing fit to burst.

When he was really trusted, got himself a name.Things became more serious it suddenly was  a whole new game. They met the older boys, the ones with  big fast cars. They all wore hoodies, bling and they all had facial scars.

It was money and messages that he had to run he was fit and had a bike.Now that is how easily it had begun. He often skipped school though not always willingly. There really was not any choice, what the big boys said, had to be.

His teachers all asked him why his work had slipped away he had a brilliant future and he had thrown it all away. He was a little worried but he shrugged his shoulders and wondered off, his teachers  called him back but his friends told them to f### off.

Mum, she was desperate working on her own doing all she could to keep the house,the boys and make for them a home. The oldest she had lost him he had gone to drugs. She had tried so hard but he just robbed her blind and made  her look a mug.The young one she had dreams for she had prayed to the Lord each day but now he was on the wrong track and now he was slipping the same way.

He knew he had become a waster, he knew that he was bad . It was the only way to be accepted and safe but the pain in Mum’s eyes made him feel bad. So he just avoided contact and hardened to her pleas. He was knocked back the other day when she begged him to stay home down on her knees.

He tried to ask his brother who ran with an older crew but he was useless as he was trapped there too. What chance was there, his brother asked, what was there for them to do  there was no work or opportunities  running with lads was at least something to do. It was all about status  and how hard you are , what clothes you wore , what trainers and did you have a scar.

His brother had one, his was on his face, from a fight with a rival gang. Okay it hurt , six days in hospital 17 stitches but he was now a big man?? Today was his chance to join the glorious crew. To take part in the big ruck was all he had to do.

Two weeks he had known about the fight , where and exactly when. It was on his mind both day and night . His thoughts were full of dread , through his blood ran pure fear  it was nearly six now, the day was finally here.

Later in the kitchen when he was taking the knife , his mother caught him and shouted at him. He raised his hand to her for the first and last time in his life. Luckily she was small so he pushed to one side he crashed through the door and out the gate . His mother sat on the floor and cried.

Later he met the guys when mum had gone to work , they knew a squat they could use to complete their plan. By 4o’clock they were jumpy they were ready to a man.They left the squat and through the railing ran. Jumping , punching the air and making feral calls they had it now they all knew the plan, they had all the balls.

He wished he’d picked a smaller knife this one was too large . As he was changing it’s position into him  a couple of the lads all barged. At once he felt a sharp and stinging pain as he fell to the floor, it felt worse again. His side felt wet and his forehead was cut where he had scraped along the floor..

By Banksy

What’s wrong man, stop messing  we haven’t got the time it’s 5 oclock now hear those church bells chime. Oh! hey you’re hurt man what did you do. You stupid f### you stabbed yourself. We have to leave you here, no good to have a burden on the crew.

His best friend helped him in to the church and sat him at the back , hold on, he said, laters then ran off to join the pack.

So he alone now, life ebbing from his side thought of mum, school his brother and he cried. He asked the lord for comfort but comfort did not come. He prayed a childhood prayer from deep inside his mind. The priest found him,and he was very kind. He wrapped his chest and held him and asked him not to go . He tried to but he couldn’t stay he felt too tired too low.

He heard the priests’ desperate call as he slipped away forget the ambulance he though and just pray for me today. The priest felt him go, but he would not loose his grip he felt he needed to guide this lost boy, some mothers pride and joy.

The Death

It was quiet and dark and the sun through the window was warming him just enough to keep him alert now his fight had begun.

The bench was hard but he could  take that it was the pain in his side and chest which filled his being everything else was  flat.

Fear gripped his mind, he was so cold inside yet a sweat was rippling down his back.His sight was blurred was he going blind.

Slowly a long hidden memory came to the fore. His mother had taught him it long before he had changed. “Gentle Jesus meek and mild look upon me a little child”

OH! Jesus if you are there help me now, I did not need you then but I do now. Jesus this pain is f###ing me, help me help me please. Slowly he slipped forward onto the  floor a darkness washed over him and he new no more.

Where are you going son. No,  out,  will not do. Listen to me boy I am asking you. Why must you run with that pack it seems to me now there  is no coming  back. What has happened to you, you were  such a good boy at school I had hopes  that you’d  go far but your just like your brother playing the fool. No your not wicked but your not a fool and I am telling you this, in my book you’re not cool.

What are you doing with that? Give it me back , don’t you threaten me son I’ll give you a smack. OH! Please will you listen to me don’t take that knife it will not set you free from the boredom in your life. It will not get you a job, it won’t make you a man what has happened to you and your world changing plan? You had vision and hunger for work a decent and pleasant boy not as you are now , just a jerk.

Clearing up quietly  the priest approached the the last row when something on the floor caught the suns last glow. Red and sticky he knew what it was  but he prayed to his God that it would not be true. The boy lying  his arms out  wide blood flowing from his side. A thought crossed his mind but he dismissed immediately. He looked like Jesus did, you see. Arms out wide , blood from his side a cut round his for head dripping blood in his eyes.

He took out his mobile and took a deep breath as he dialled , ambulance , police  he begged his mind running wild. The operator was telling him what to do,  “Keep him warm and stem the blood is what I want you to do.” He ripped off his cassock and swaddle the lad he then notice blood on his jeans ( the best ones he had) He cradled the boy and prayed in his ear  “keep trying to stay ask now, Jesus will hear.”

It was half an hour until anyone arrived the paramedic crew gently moved the priest to one side. It was too late the boy was gone, then with their radios crackling loud, the police taped the area off,with people from everywhere arriving, such a crowed.

Standing back  and looking around the priest said a prayer with out making a sound. “Dear God take the soul of this boy who died here today and give him some peace,  and if you have time help me find words to sooth his family, at least ” Then sat down exhausted, he was just a man even though he was called priest.

A woman on her way home from work regretting an argument at the start of the day was wondering how to fix things and what she could say. She always said never give up, never leave a good word unsaid.  Never leave things, sort them before you go to bed.  Passing the church she saw her youngest boys friends , he wasn’t there perhaps they could make amends.

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