And will I ever do it again?
It 's hard to know when you are clearly insane.
It's best that I stay in jail for evermore.
Because while in prison there's been no anger on show.
Or maybe I think that but not you.
I wonder if I've ever hurt anyone in prison?
I don't think so.
But who am I to know?
It 's not a very Christian thing to do.
To your fellow man, I thought I was a Christian, now I think I must be wrong.
All I thought now seems to be untrue.
That's never happened to me before; has it to you?
I now hold no opinion or no thought.
I'm told everything that is and how it ought.
I no longer question the things I'm told.
If grass is blue then I'm sure that's true.
Or if I'm young but told I'm old.
I'll never again not believe what I'm told.
The Moon's made of cheese.
Dead men are trees; Father Christmas is real.
To the gods ambrosia is a meal.
Newspapers don't lie.
And there was a crooked sixpence on a crooked stile.
I've had enough for now, good bye.
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The good die young
A witness in my case died of a drugs overdose and I dedicate this to his memory, and may God have Mersey on his reached soul. He lied for his friend did he do wrong? I'm doing twelve years for that lie.
The good die young.
Or so they say. And every dog has its day.
For lies there's a price that in the end they all will pay.
One down and more to follow.
I know I shouldn't in my glee; wallow.
But Garry Porter said he knew me well!!
Do you think he did? Did he like as hell.
Porter stood in the box.
He swore on The Book with the cunning of a fox.
But when asked what he knew.
You wouldn't believe what he was about to do.
know? Say's he; are you talking to me?
Say's he.
That's when the QC began to shout.
So the trial stopped as they took Porter out.
That did the trick.
He was back in a tick.
With knowledge all in order and neat.
Now after talking to the police.
He was quite able to weave his web of deceit.
For that lie and many more.
Told by him not once but twice before.
His life was ended with a rush.
The rush of smack running through his veins, he was always simple.
He had no brains.
Who will speak up for him now?
Who will defend his lying-tongue?
Who will he have to lean on?
On judgement day, what can he say?
He bore false witness, that, he knows full-well.
I hope he spends eternity in hell.
Maybe then; the truth they'll tell.
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The Stout man
In my local news paper there was a letter sent in by a school teacher, a teacher that in my youth was a great influence in my life. While he was swimming in the sea off St. Bees he noticed some foam on the surface of the water and he wondered if it had come from over the water.
There was a young man from Monkwray Brow.
On a sunny day, he did swim, and how.
He went to St Bees and swam in the sea, Captain Webb he thought he be.
He opened his mouth and in came the sea.
Brown it was with leaves on top.
It had the distinct odder of the hop.
From where it came on the west wind he knew not.
Be it from a ship's mishap! Brewery tap?
He had to know so he looked on the map.
The river Liffey could it be?
That pumped this Stout, into the sea.
I don't know but if St Bees it is to reach.
We'll never be designated as a clean beach!
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I will love you come what may
My Son, whom I love with all my heart, has never been it touch with me for some years now despite me trying, maybe too late, to talk to him. I wrote this and sent' it to him on his seventieth birthday, on his eighteenth I never sent anything, but I still love him the same.
I will love you come what may.
I will love you every day.
No matter what you say or do.
The love I have will always be true If one day you're good; the next day you falter.
The love I have for you will not alter.
My love needs no reward.
I give my love without expectation; all the love I have for you is free.
That's unconditional love to you from me.
There is nothing you can ever do; to stop me loving you.
There is nothing you can ever do; to make me love you more.
You don't have to put-up a front. Or some sort of show.
When the sun as set on the day.
And the new day dawns, in that beautiful way.
Birds singing, sun rising, the dew on the grass.
When that day starts a new; I will still love you.
No less, no more, just like I did before.
And will for evermore.
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Peace
Many people search for peace but very few find it until they start to look inside themselves. Prison gives a person plenty of time to look at ones self, what you see is not always what you want to see.
We search for peace throughout our life.
We try to look beyond the strife.
But cannot see what lies within.
Because we all live in sin.
Peace is there for all, it's not new.
Jesus said "my peace I give to you " It's often hidden from our view.
By clouds of pride or an emotional stew.
Peace is everywhere in this world.
When we find it our sails are unfurled, like a ship on the ocean.
Our lives move in a rhythmic motion.
But if the peace became absolute.
And the voice of the wind becomes mute.
We make no progress.
Yet again, our lives are under duress.
A hurricane is a swirl of chaos.
A place, you may think, peace is at a loss.
A place that peace could never be.
A thing that churns up vast, once peaceful sea.
But if you move yourself away.
Look at the storm from above, Like the symbol of peace would; the dove.
You would see that in the centre of any storm. There is a calm. The eye.
A bright spot with a cloudless blue sky.
So as you look for peace within.
Don't let your eyes be clouded by sin.
Peace is there in the midst of all.
Pull yourself up and stand tall.
Move away and look from afar.
Look at your life as if, it's afar-off star.
See the light, it shines in your heart.
Even in chaos peace as always some part.
To get your peace into sight.
The first thing you must do is fight through the wall of your storm.
You must look within and reform, remember this what I tell.
You can never be at peace with anyone, until you're at peace with yoursel.
And without chaos in life.
Peace would run rife.
It would be of no value at all.
Instead of a great thing it would be small.
When your stuck on life's ocean.
Just hang on and ask for peace.
It's there inside, it's the eye, an emotion.
It comes from love and a deep dev
otion.
A devotion to God and yourself.
Not houses or cars or any such wealth.
Forgive and forget and the storm, do quell.
When you do that you'll find peace; Inside yourself.
Chapter The waiting room of life
Is this just the waiting room of life, are we all just waiting for true life? I don't know.
We know not of tomorrow, we only know of yesterday's sorrow.
We live for the moment, so precious; pure.
A moment in time that once it's comes it's no sooner gone.
We can't hold on to time, we can't stop it in anyway; in twenty four hours it's time for another day.
I have memory's of times past.
I have memory's that seam to last forever and a day.
Moment's that try as I will just wont go away.
There are moments of bad that stick with me and that makes me sad.
There are moments so good like the time I met my wife.
It was November the fifth, bombfire night;
Remember Remember the fifth of November?
How can I forget?
But still all I have now is a lot of regret.
If only we could remember the future and not what's gone;
would it be such a bad thing?
Would it be wrong?
We are born, we live and then we die, or do we?
No we are born, we die and then we live.
The time between birth and death cannot be life, it as no point.
It's as if we were all in a waiting-room on a train station platform.
As the people leave on trains the people at the back are all that remains.
But they move and shuffle across the floor, then they are the next to go.
The train on which they wait has no destination.
The people waiting don't know the name on the station.
Still they fight to reach the door, they know not what lies beyond but they are compelled to go. There's no going back, if you stand on a foot in your haste and don't say sorry then, that moment is a waste. It's gone forever, you'll just have to hope and pray that you meet that foot at the end of your train ride. Then; I'm sorry, you can say.
Be sure to take heed in the waiting-room of life.
Don't be too keen to catch that train, hang about and see who turns up.
Hold on to the hand of your wife;
or before you know it she'll have some one else's hand
in that waiting-room of life.
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Prison life but just one year
This is one year in the life of a prisoner, it gets no better, honest!
Prison life but just one year.
Out of a total of twelve in stir.
Two hundred and forty two days locked up in a cell.
All alone it's worse than hell.
Days spent working in the shops.
Sixty five; just enough to keep you alive.
Recreation days number, fifty four.
Including visits that's very low.
Strip searches number one hundred or more. That's one hundred times your manhood's on show.
Offending Behaviour, well that's zero.
The four days left are very well spent.
Education, Education, Education, if that's your bent.
Prison works on a numbers game.
Every year it's just the same.
Two hundred and forty two days locked in a cell.
To be away from the screws; it's maybe just as-well.
Fifty two toilet rolls that's one a week I don't know how many times I take a leak.
My razor is given old for new, I don't know what they think I'll do.
That's prison life but just one year; out of a total time of twelve in stir.
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God is everywhere
One Christmas I was asked to do something for the church service, this is the result of that. And is he really in here? I still can't believe it. When you meet people like Rita the questioner's answered, yes for Sure.
God is here, God is there.
The Lord our God is everywhere!
So they say.
I often wonder if he is.
I often wonder if he's there.
I often think he's not.
But that's when I'm in despair.
See; if God is everywhere.
That would mean he's here.
It would mean this is where he lives.
But how can he live with robbers and thieves?
He's done no wrong, committed no crime.
How is it that God's doing time?
He can't be in here by chose.
No one on earth would do that, I'm sure.
He came to earth and brought a cure.
He lived as a man a life so pure.
As a shining example to us all.
That we might mend our ways and stand tall.
Who of you would do the same as he?
Who of you would be nailed to a tree?
For someone who doesn't even know you.
For someone who doesn't know your there.
He did; he did it so we would be saved.
By that act our sins are waived.
He paid the price for us all that day.
He chose to go, and not to stay
He stood in the dock and was accused.
As many in here have done the same.
He was put into prison and his body abused.
Why would he do that for you and me?
Why would anyone chose to be nailed to a tree?
You must have heard of "the sins" there are seven.
If you have just one on your soul, you can't go into heaven.
The gate will be closed.
The way you wont find.
God knows this and because he is so kind.
He sent his Son, Jesus, to take them away.
Then he sent the Holy Spirit to stay.
So let's see; we have God.
The Holy Spirit, And then there's he.
That was nailed to that tree.
That; with my counting makes three.
If there's three they could number infinity!
We'll just call it for now; The Trinity.
Is God everywhere?
Where was He when Mandela sat in his cell?
Where was He when Africa had no water in it's well?
Where was He when the towers fell?
Where was He when the bombs dropped on Afghanistan?
Why doesn't He stop all this if He can?
As Mandela slept in his bed amidst the war.
God was there; asleep on the floor.
When the drought fell on the African people.
God stayed and in came the Aid.
Eleven O'clock the towers no longer stand.
God was there holding their hand.
God is the word "we" call our Lord.
It's sometimes a different word if you go abroad.
Allah is God to some who pray. Just as our God; Allah will stay.
We all have free-will to do as we would.
But we don't always do as we should.
I leave you with this; on which to ponder.
If God is all around.
Not just in heaven but here on the ground.
This is the house of God.
I find that very odd of all the places to dwell.
Of all the places to be.
He chose to be here with me.
This truly must be the gates of glory.
And that my friends is the end of my story.
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Love is
This is a short list of what love is to me. What is it to you?
Love is in our heart.
Love is to some a small part.
Love is to some, like putting a horse in a cart.
Love is given for free.
&
nbsp; Love is as strong as an oak tree.
Love is standing tall.
Love is a slave to no call.
Love is unconditional and will not fall.
Love is all around.
Love is in heaven and here on the ground.
Love is not earned by anyone.
Love is there, if you think it's not, you're wrong.
Love is taking down walls from round your heart.
Love is sharing your whole self, not just some parts.
Love is not hiding your weaknesses away.
Love is emptying your mind and knowing your love will stay.
Love is forever and not just one day.
Love is kind and good.
Love is giving as others would.
Love is giving as you know you should.
Love is having a heart of gold not wood.
Love is not receiving.
Love is not leaving.
Love is not deceiving.
Love is truth.
Love is letting someone know you as yourself.
Love is not something bought by wealth.
Love is not something invisible or stealth.
Love is an aura a glow.
Love is; well if you have it, you'll know.
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Reality of life
In prison you sometimes wonder what's real and what's not. 1 wrote this for the chapel and read it out on Sunday. Some people just wont face reality.
There's no escaping reality.
Or the inevitable finality of life.
You can run and hide.
You can keep all your fears inside.
Reality is what is real.
It's not what we think, or feel.
Reality is the way things are.
It's all around both near and far.
If you try to escape the realities of life.
By running away from trouble and strife.
You are entering into escapism.
An unhealthy desire to escape, to within.
For within yourself all reality's gone.
The only thing that matters in there;
Is the reality of your own.
But reality is truth, like it or not.
It's always there to the grave, from the cot.
Without reality in your life there’s confusion.
You live your life under a vale of illusion.
Reality is like a dog on a lead.