Tears cry on the inside (Lyrics)

Sun shines on the gloomy days

Dragging me out of bed

To live in another dream world

Painting pictures in head;

Reality can be so painful 

When nothing seems to be left

Abstract ideas of companions

Yet nobody is there

.

My tears cry on the inside, Baby,

Like filling a sea

On good days I can be sailing

No wave enough to stop me;

Without you day turned to darkness

A moon dragging up stormy seas

When I think at night, I remember the past

And I get that sinking feeling:

I’ll never be that happy again.

.

Every day brings new opportunity

If only others believed

The monster they’ve seen within me

Is a love that used to be,

Nobody has true colour

When they all read in black and white

How can I live in real pictures

When I’m not allowed a proper chance

.

My tears cry on the inside, Baby,

Like filling a sea

On good days I can be sailing

No wave enough to stop me;

Without you day turned to darkness

A moon dragging up stormy seas

When I think at night, I remember the past

And I get that sinking feeling:

I’ll never be that happy again.

.

I’d love you tomorrow

If you came back to me

I’d have a lover today

If that’s what’s supposed to be

But I go it alone

With some hopeless hope

And a bad recurring dream

.

My tears cry on the inside, Baby,

Like filling a sea

On good days I can be sailing

No wave enough to stop me;

Without you day turned to darkness

A moon dragging up stormy seas

When I think at night, I remember the past

And I get that sinking feeling:

I’ll never be that happy again…

Unless someone gives me a chance.

.

People cannot hide or deceive forever. End playing games with people’s lives. Do not take ideas away from struggling artists without recognising their contribution otherwise they stop producing art. I hope the world finds TRUTH and stops those killing creativity and making others miserable through bullying or by blocking their life, or taking their ideas to use as their own.

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

The ghastly Edwardian Corny County election affair (definitely a fictional Poem)

It was the year of nineteen and four

When Corny County gathered to score

Between Liberal and a Tory vote

In what soon became a political joke

.

It started as a humble affair

The hopefuls took stand to declare

To help the poor, be not so poor

Both raising hands to accept applause:

‘But they can never be rich’, the Tory quipped,

‘However, we can never be sure’, the Liberal called.

The crowd acknowledged each in different parts

‘Twas then the fun did really start

As Liberal looked with hint of envy

At his counterpart, unfairly wealthy

.

‘Don’t vote for him… he doesn’t wash his feet!’

.

A silence fell upon the faces,

looking up at whence it came from

.

‘Well, he doesn’t’ continued the voice

‘And if he takes off his shoes, you’d better hurry up and move,

Else you’ll be looking awful pink, when you’re caught in his noxious stink!’

.

The sniggers sniggered, and laughter spluttered

As the Tory raged and began to utter

‘It’s better than being a hot balloon

Under bedsheets at night, piping out a tune!’

.

Back and forth the insults came

Like rally in a tennis game

.

‘Well the fungus found between his toes,

Is what’s thought offed the dinosaurs!’

.

‘Beware of him at dinner time

He never goes to wash his hands

Along with all the tasty treats

He tops it off with finger grime!’

.

‘See him, it is well known

When no-one looks he picks his nose,

And if that isn’t quite enough

He eats the bogies that he’s poked!’

.

‘You should all go check your facts,

They make fat candles with his ear wax!’

.

‘Without hand or hanky, when this fellow sneezes

Snot flies out, wherever it pleases!’

.

‘And when he takes his wife to bed

He wears his socks and nothing else!’

.

‘Enough!’ called the judge, not sure if this was allowed

A blazing, public, private row.

He looked across to check the clock

And said ‘It’s time to put this to the vote’

The crowd still stood – all open mouthed

Having listened to all that had come out

Judge said ‘gentlemen, last words please,

On why the folks should vote for thee’

.

‘You simply cannot vote for him,

You can’t be sure just where he’s been!’

.

‘This position you cannot entrust,

To a man, who licks the mould off crusts!’

.

And so the debate there did end

And politics shown as a dirty game

.

Eagerly dispersed the crowd

Off to make their voices count.

And when all was said and done

Nobody could contest result

Not one ballot marked for either side

Because the town could not decide

After candidates brought into public view

Things we all pretend to never do;

So, it ended in a draw

As nobody wanted either/or

And why the County Corny vote

Became a ghastly political joke!

.

Just a bit of fun after I saw how Belloc’s opponent in Salford 1906 had a slogan ‘Don’t Vote for a Frenchman and a Catholic!’ I then just imagined a ridiculous personal degradation scenario, something slightly similar to the idea of Newman and Baddiel History Today.

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

Haunted Highway Sixty Five (poem/lyrics)

It happened on a Sunday, when my father was just a young man

He’d arranged to meet, in a rustic town, a new business associate;

He stopped at a gas station, to admit that he was lost

An old man behind the counter pointed, today’s October thirty first

If you must head up that way, don’t you dare go there alone

For if the devil catch you, he’ll surely take your soul

.

My father thanked the man for his advice, but set off upon his way

That boy naively thinking, he’s too tough to be delayed,

But he soon grew weary, and thoughts had turned to bed

He hoped that he could find a place, where he could stop and rest

So, he slipped onto a side road off

that Highway Sixty Five

.

The road was rather winding, visibility almost nil

As a fog had swamped upon the earth, numbing with a chill,

That’s when he saw it, the warning of hazard lights

Flashing in the surrounding air, daring him to check it out

.

He walked over rather slowly, to a vehicle in a ditch

Driver and passenger, stuck in a nasty fix

And in all his living years, he never did get such a fright

As he leaned up to the windscreen, unprepared for that sight

This happened on a side road off

that Highway Sixty Five

.

The driver’s neck was limp, two fang marks on his throat

A stake rammed into his heart, blood seeping through his coat,

And in the seat beside him, a female face green of mould

Insects crawling out and in, she looked a century old

.

Then he heard a haunting voice, that chilled him to the bone

Calling from the shadows on, the other side of the road,

That faceless figure didn’t move, a devil’s torch shone from his mouth

So Father told he only came, to see if he could help out

.

He said “Son, you seem an honest boy, I may just let you be;

Just turn around, don’t travel alone, and forget everything you’ve seen

Or I shall have to find you, and by waking up the dead

I’ll make them sure to haunt you, so you’ll never be lonely in bed”

And this all happened on a side road off

that Highway Sixty Five

.

Next day at that meeting, my father was awful pale

He didn’t say what’d happened, only the place he’d been delayed

The associate said “Son I’ve lived here sixty years, and there is one thing I am sure;

Off the Six and Five Highway, there ain’t never been no side road”

.

Before my father died last year, he told me to never be afraid

To sing, live, laugh and love, and play these lyrics if I dare;

And every time I voice them, I know that faceless stranger may appear…,

But I figure now you’ve heard them too, he’ll just as likely come for you!

.

And if you ever travel, in a car alone

You know exactly the location, of where you shouldn’t go,

Cause this whole thing started on one creepy Halloween

On the supposed side road off

that Highway Sixty Five

.

Apparently nobody read my last post. Not one person in the whole world was even the slightest bit bored or curious. It’s sad to be so dull.

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

Back to the start (Lyrics)

All dressed up, sat in my seat, going to launch to a party,

Riding high – on a sonic boom, too noisy to hear what they’re saying

A broken voice is playing,

And he says:

Don’t be alarmed…

Time to turn around…

Back to the start

.

Somewhere there’s a leak, and it’s hitting my back, someone tells me it’s raining,

But I’m burning hot, we’re sat indoors, and I don’t want to seem I’m complaining

That broken voice is playing..,

And he says:

Don’t be alarmed…

Time to turn around…

Back to the start

.

I get up, got to calm my nerves, all I got’s a dip and sherbet,

And like beluga out of water, this isn’t what I ordered,

And he says:

Don’t be alarmed…

Time to turn around…

Back to the start

.

So I sit down, and the bad boys laugh, at me in my short trousers,

All that waits – for me on the ground, is an empty promise of vouchers,

That broken voice keeps playing…

And he says:

Don’t be alarmed…

Time to turn around…

Need to get – Back to the start

.

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

Colours of love (Lyrics)

I’m too afraid to say

I’ve made my mistakes

I’m too scared to see

When you look at me,

But bubbling under the surface

Emotions start to boil

And when I finally meet you

I’ll be bursting

the colours of love

.

Showering you in doting rain

Holding you in my embrace

Feeling – alive – again

.

You can’t tell the dawn chorus to be quiet

You can’t expect me to hide my truth

When the thought of seeing you

Begins in my heart a race;

Bubbling under the surface

Emotions start to boil

And when I finally meet you

I’ll be bursting

the colours of love

.

Showering you in doting rain

Holding you in my embrace

Feeling – alive – again

.

When the work is not viewed and shared, the artist loses hope, and the birth of new art ceases to be imagined)

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

My dreamy ode to marmalade (Lyrics)

I had a little dream, I was the bear named Paddington, and this is the song that I sang:

.

Mr Brown always says

Good things come to those who wait,

He is not wrong, for each morning time

Breakfast is sitting there on my plate

.

Oh marmalade is a marvel

You learn to love the most

When you spread it in a sandwich

Or let it brighten up your toast!

.

But the important thing about breakfast

Is it isn’t just for one,

Which brings me to a troubling point

That’s really got me stumped:

Just how do they make enough marmalade

To feed to everyone?

.

Oh marmalade is a marvel

You learn to love the most

When you spread it in a sandwich

Or let it brighten up your toast!

.

I suppose Aunt Lucy loves to say

Each as to their own;

The meaning of which

Puzzles me a bit

And the answer remains unknown…

.

Like many things in London

They seem a mystery to me,

However…

I simply find it quite absurd

If people spread on lemon curd

When marmalade is just within their reach!

.

Oh marmalade is a marvel

You learn to love the most

When you spread it in a sandwich

Or let it brighten up your toast!

.

When the work is not viewed and shared, the artist loses hope, and the birth of new art ceases to be imagined)

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

Embellishing Conversant© (poem)

‘Ouch!’ said little sister, raising hand to mouth,

‘What’s wrong?’ I curiously enquired, in reply to such a sound

 

‘Nothing’ said she quite muffled, while looking at my sweets,

Eyes a little bulging, at sugar tempting treats,

 

Help yourself I said warmly, seeing she was in pain,

And like a fish she gobbled in, the bait upon my string!

‘Yeeooow’ she loudly cried, like cat about to swim

And laugh I did until I cried, as I am her Big Sis!

 

‘Oh no – I think, I’m going to die’, her face was all a blush

‘This pain – it hurts: each time I eat, it keeps on getting worse’

 

‘Don’t worry, you are not to die, it merely is your penance,

For being so annoying to me, and now you must repent!’

 

‘I’m sorry’ she cried so genuinely, ‘I’ll never do it again’

 

‘Too late now, your only hope, is a fate much worse than death!’

 

‘Oh NO’ she squeaked, face a flushed, tears rolling down her cheeks

‘What horror lies in wait for me?  What could be worse than this?’

 

‘They’ll take you to a place that smells, and bring you to a seat,

They’ll sit you down and wrap you up, in a hygienic sheet;

In it you MUST not talk, and remain completely still,

Because if you move, you may distract, and she’ll hurt you with the drill!’

 

Off she screamed, back down the stairs, straight up to our mother

Who quickly wrapped her in a coat, and left the house quite bothered

 

And that was the last I saw of her…  until 3 hours later

When in she skipped, all full of smiles, like little alligator;

She stuck her tongue right out at me, then popped in a lollipop

And just to really rub it in, Mum had bought her a nice new top!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/embellishing-conversant-poem/

Beware of the mega-bite!© (Poem)

Last night, my little sister could not sleep

All night long she screamed and screamed;

Nightmares had crept into her dreams.

 

In the morning, when we got up

Father was bushwhacked – Mother fraught,

Both, you see, had to work.

 

At breakfast table, all would come out;

Reasons why – confessions told,

As I appeared before firing squad.

 

“Tell us dear, what made you afraid

To wake all in neighbourhood and grave?”

 

Red faced and frowning, out came the hand

Finger outstretched as she took to the stand

“She told me that the computer hides

Everything in the world inside:

Anything is captured inside of its bite!”

 

With finger pointing straight at me

My ears I simply could not believe

“Not true, don’t listen, that’s not what I said”

“But surely,” said Papa, “that is what you implied”

 

Hammer and screws in coffin to nail

Little sister continued, the wind in her sails

“She told me even, if you are too big to chew

The computer can, and will, still capture you

Dare you run, dare you hide

It gets you with its mega-bite!”

 

What could I say, what could I do?

When all angry eyes stare at you,

I was sentenced to sit alone in bedroom

With only my thoughts and conscience to stew,

While mind muddled how, facts misconstrued.

 

Now sister whenever she enters the room

Stomps her feet with face of doom,

Stares accusingly for all her worth

While giving computer very wide berth!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/beware-of-the-mega-bite-poem/

The problem with younger siblings is… © (Poem)

The problem with younger siblings is

There’s always something them to teach

Like when I caught my little sister

Reaching in toilet, to get a drink.

 

It all started when we were outside

She tried to eat – a long muddy worm.

I scowled and said ‘What are you thinking?’

She said ‘Well, they’re good enough for birds!’

 

I said ‘You mustn’t; they are dirty,

They’ll continue to grow in your insides

Until they’re 6 foot and you are fifty

When they’ll finally crawl out your eyes!’

 

She didn’t like that much, so shifted

onto an ants nest to try them instead

But one stung her right on her finger

There’s a lesson that’ll stick in her head!

 

And so she ran off to the bathroom

Leaned over toilet with glass in hand,

About to drink a mouthful

Until I gave a loud command:

 

‘Stop – that toilet is dirty!

It’ll taste awfully sour’

She snapped ‘Mummy cleaned it this morning;

Besides, it smells of lemon and flowers’

 

The problem with younger siblings is

They think that they know what’s best

As elder, I may not know all answers

But I’d surely do better in tests.

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/the-problem-with-younger-siblings-is-poem/