Step into the Rainbow by Colin R Brookfield (read 50 shades of grey txt) 📕

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The stable door closed upon Ned ‘till the morning,

this was a new home, not the one he was born in.

There seemed plenty of room, the bedding was fine

and sweet smelling hay on which he could dine.

 

Ned was quite startled by movements close by,

as another horse rose from the stall where it lie.

“Goodness” said Ned “You gave me a fright,

I’m new here you know, my very first night.”

 

“Ben is my name” the other horse said,

“I’m very old, and have to be led,

It’s not pleasant alone I think you’ll agree

but now it is fine, with your company.”

 

“Did you say Ben?” Ned almost gasped,

“Ben from the Great War?” his startled voice rasped,

“Your exploits are legion and whispered with awe,

you’re the last to survive, the last one that saw.”

 

“Now listen,” said Ben, “there’s things I must tell,

I must pass on my stories of actions, so fell.

My working life started in coal yards and dirt,

pulling great heavy carts, I had whippings that hurt.

 

But just like so many, the bedlam dragged on,

until sold at auction, then the bad years seemed gone.

My new master said, “You’re not fit for the plough,”

though in scarcely a year, “you’re a lovely horse now.”

 

Those times were so dear, with my master, a friend,

as I worked in the fields, my well being he’d tend.

But rumours were flying there soon would be war,

then the army procurers knocked on my master’s door.

 

I was sent with the others, and moved place to place,

our numbers kept growing, concern marked each face.

They put army marks on us, instead of our name,

it made us feel lost and filled us with shame.

 

Another thing wrong, that made noses sore,

was that everything smelt like an old army store.

The army liked shouting and made lots of noise,

our peace was the victim this bedlam destroys.

 

But things got no better, we were packed aboard ships,

then sent off to France, fear venting from lips.

I was given a job at a horse transit sector,

the far away guns raised a frightening spectre.

 

The horses in multitudes poured in and out,

there were awful things waiting we had little doubt.

Now horses all know, at the end of their day,

they return to their stables, their oats and their hay.

 

But when these horses left, they didn’t return,

and this wasn’t right, it made our stomachs churn.

One day with the rest, I was sent to the front,

a war, not of our making, where we bore the brunt.

 

Now terror stalked us, with survival in doubt,

for the earlier horses lay dead all about.

With exhaustion we slithered through great seas of mud

and saw our friends dying in pools of their blood.

 

Then luck paid a visit, they moved me away

far from the guns and oceans of clay

and that’s where I worked till the fighting was done

and repatriation at last was begun.

 

I returned with the horses, all older than I,

whose spirits were left with their comrades to die.

Five hundred thousand died in that mire,

and who knows what anguish, to survivors transpire.

 

But time took all those veterans, leaving just me

and I still see no future, that will set horses free,

The only small glimmer, is the vehicles they’re inventing

so the need to breed Horses, may be less unrelenting.

 

So the future of our kind, which the signs all agree,

will see our numbers whittled down, faster than the tree.

Said Ned “This paints a picture, too sad to contemplate,

why did ‘Big Horse in the Sky’ saddle us with such a fate?”

 

“Very droll” said Ben, “I like a sense of humour,

but there’s more to ‘Big Horse in the Sky’ he isn’t just a rumour.

He attends our final needs for the round-up in the sky

and there we’ll roam in freedom, where none will master you or I.

But until that day arrives, it will never leave my mind,

that for all those awful people, some were very kind,

And that includes the people that now own you and me,

so goodnight and happy dreams, like your future here will be.”

 

God’s Wonders to Perform

Once the world sparkled like a crystal,

all its waters glittered and were clear,

creatures teemed the lands in freedom

long before the trap and spear.

 

Life held magic all were touched by,

where is it now and all those creatures,

lost in sacrifice upon the altar,

to those who changed the worldly features.

 

Farewell world, sparkling like a crystal,

goodbye waters flourishing and clear,

adieu the natural world and creatures,

God’s wonders to perform is why we’re here.

 

Iconoclast

Weald thy hammer shatter false design,

Winter quake and lash to no avail,

Spring’s bringer strikes away the icy time.

 

Patrimony

There’s an abstract jigsaw puzzle

within the minds of most mankind,

with pieces forced together,

calculatedly assigned.

 

So this fallacious picture

of what’s purported to be real,

is the heritage of every child,

the truth from it to steal.

 

Too few will reach their closing days

that flung the picture to the ground,

then placed with care, each piece together,

where they should rightfully be found.

 

One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

The smart apes left the jungle

and built another one,

wore rose tinted glasses

whilst they used the gun.

Many words were spoken

in favour of their kind,

keeping thoughts assured

they had a moral mind.

“Stock in trade” excuses

when things were going wrong,

more anachronistic lyrics

and futile wearied song.The apes that weren’t so smart

stayed right where they were,

never wore rose glasses

that carry such a slur,

devised no superstition

to make a mind ensnared,

what you saw was what you got,

what was real stayed unimpaired.

Never wrecked their world

or the world of others,

also kept to nature’s rules

unlike their smart brothers.

 

Sophistry

The common consensus

will always insist

that certain realities

do not exist.

 

Whilst what is unreal

it doesn’t resist,

in common consensus

the two things persist.

 

Born in the Image

Born in the image......

so it must be blessed,

a dangerous pedestal

upon which to rest.

What takes on a mantle

of that which it’s not,

something festers within

and won’t be forgot.

 

What’s covered, is smothered

and cannot get air,

What’s unventilated

will fester and flair.

What carries errors

Nature then spurns,

She has her laws

of flawed returns.

 

Blood’s Thicker than Water

I heard a man say blood’s thicker than water,

he had a bad son and an even worse daughter,

he fought by their sides although they were wrong,

spreading rancour and hurt where it didn’t belong.

 

I heard people say blood’s thicker than water,

Their country is right, give others no quarter.

They’ll fight for their cause, they’re never wrong,

spreading rancour and hurt where it doesn’t belong.

 

I heard a lone voice; blood’s not thicker than water,

in my home, I am not an injustice supporter;

my country when right, but never when wrong,

I’ll spread no rancour and hurt, where it doesn’t belong.

 

Ambivalent Species

Sanity and shadow twin,

creative and the ruining.

Nations into greatness bloom

lesser things they also groom.

 

And strange it is a tiny few

can hoodwink millions through and through,

for those that rule are those that war,

what’s lower down, won’t know the score.

 

Softened up with propaganda,

disinformation dressed in candour,

thus hosts confront ‘till none will yield

in enmity upon the field.

 

Then shadow throws its loaded dice

and sanity will pay the price.

 

The Bovine Child

I was a child who was born with a dream,

who needed a mother and fields quiet and green.

But I’m a commodity trapped in a crate,

as tender white flesh with a hideous fate.

 

The beasts from the shadows are stalking the lands,

brutes with electrical prods in their hands,

Is everyone deaf to our abattoir screams,

are we flesh on a plate and that’s all it means?

 

Agreeing Kind

The tacitly agreeing kind,

adjunctive to another’s mind.

 

Along a Separate Way

The family of creatures

set upon this earth to live,

were an integrated whole,

taking no more than they give.

 

But evolution took one species

along a separate way,

that endowed these privileged creatures

with over weaning sway.

 

They plundered all before them

including their own kind,

raped the land, the sea, the air;

to their future they were blind.

 

These creatures had a conscience

its purpose to constrain,

but they devised devices

to circumvent its mental pain.

 

Their faiths gave useful service

as self deceive creations,

as sanctuaries where consciences

acquired dispensations.

 

Tenets of Reason

My colour creed or nation’s crimes,

were theirs that did them,

not yours or mine.

 

my colour creed or nation’s virtues,

were theirs that earned them,

not yours or mine.

 

Thought’s Great Ocean

Thought’s great ocean,

a myriad data interplay,

Every mind swims therein

and determines its own way.

 

Currents fierce abyssal depths,

the way that’s sought by some,

the safety of the shallows

is where the shoalers come.

 

Along the foaming shores

is where illusions lie,

where unsupportive bubbles burst

leaving flounders high and dry.

 

Cross-fertilising issues,

ever-new evolving shapes,

exalted forms, plebeian too,

to play their part each escapes.

 

Truth is a Bird

Truth is a bird with a beautiful song

that never is heard, where it doesn’t belong,

truth is the Phoenix that rises in some,

known for the company it is among.

 

But there are birds that fly very low,

mendacity over their tongues seem to flow,

sowing the air with a discordant squawk,

birds of a feather, tongues with a fork.

 

The Arrogance of Office

What wishes to own will tell you it serves,

lavish and pomp for itself it reserves,

no matter the system, no matter its name,

bureaucracies play their time-honoured game.

 

Societies fleeced, pockets are lined

by those that build palaces for their own kind.

Officialdom low and officialdom high,

burgeoning presences going awry.

 

The loss to the few whose motives are pure,

their credit enhances the other kind’s lure,

ingenuous populace farmed for a crop

by confidence tricksters that climb to the top.

 

A Secret Ploy

A secret to another’s ear was lent

and begged to stay where it was sent.

My chosen one was known to prate

and secrets sure to resonate.

 

I knew this ear, a leaking barrel

and its mouth, with want to carol.

Through every ear, off every tongue

as secret as a church bell rung.

 

Now I await upon fruition

those words I sent upon their mission,

and whence my pigeon to its nest,

‘twill see how wise I did invest.

 

Vengeful Demeter

Most every living creature,

every plant and every tree,

part of an integrated system

‘pon Earth’s epidermery.

 

Its air, its water and its land,

part of the same equation,

to view this mechanistically

’tis hoped has validation.

 

For everything upon the earth

unites as one machine,

resolves its own malfunctions,

such things have always been.

 

Now its parts are being damaged,

many more have been destroyed,

the machinery is rumbling,

more to come it can’t avoid.

 

The blame lies with one species

that’s long defaulted on its rent,

with little heed to others’ needs,

’tis over-numbered, over-spent.

 

But planet earth’s not sentient,

of what’s upon its skin,

what dies or thrives is ineffective

to its orbit or its spin.

 

When Apprentices Play

Whilst the Wizard went off for a very long stay,

the apprentice was having a magical day,

but playing alone can be limited fun,

so he read from the book and a spell was begun.

 

With a wave of his wand, he made more of his kind,

but they did the same, he was caught in a bind,

he could see there would soon be nowhere to stand,

so he sent them in groups to every known land.

 

But once they were there, they had to be fed,

they eat with a vengeance, the animals fled.

Soon some of the lands had little to eat

and only a few, were more than replete.

 

Their numbers kept growing, increasing the score,

five point five billion, at the year ninety four.

In scarcely four decades, their numbers would double

and bring in their wake, some unthinkable trouble.

 

The air and the seas and the lands felt the strain,

some lands weren’t so green, they were losing their rain,

there were things going wrong, wherever they turned,

warm places went cold, cool places were burned.

They prayed and they hoped, the Wizard would hear,

for without intervention, their end seemed quite clear,

but the Wizard was late, and he didn’t stay,

for everything living, had perished away.

 

Dream Time

When numbers few did here abound,

’twas from their dreams all answers found.

Numbers waxed through course of time,

conspiring to the dream’s decline.

 

The more that numbers did enlarge,

the more that chaos then took charge:

no longer each with guiding vision,

having fallen foul of thought revision.

 

’Twas those with self reward in mind

that sowed the seeds that served their kind,

inventing fearful superstition,

mind entrapment was their mission.

 

Engineering thoughts collective

to rout free minds that were perceptive,

time expanded on this theme,

all thoughts were trained which way to lean.

 

Through gulf of time, false thoughts ingrain,

life of their own they then attain,

in future far ‘twill still survive,

for cultural lees keeps them alive.

 

Few will care so few will find

the answer left so far behind.

The first scant numbers of our kind,

each owned an individuated mind.

 

Large numbers now are here to stay,

much gain from thoughts that interplay.

Distortions from collective view

ensures that there are losses too.

 

Upon those within a shared domain

must be some fair collective claim,

unseen by mind not quite in focus,

collective claim is often bogus.

 

The route to individuated mind

is not an easy one to find,

for every modern mind still wears

antiquity’s coverted snares.

 

A snare will hold a