THE COCKNEY BARD'S BLOG

I have burnt my fingers in the writing of truth. I have worn my mind to borders of madness in its quest. But I would rather burn the soles of my feet with the fires of hell than let a liar bring me down. Indeed I would.

You cannot be a master of the sixth sense, which is what the ability of foresight is! Intuition is something I greatly understand but only in the confines of a human understanding. And from my knowledge, from that perspective, the sixth sense could never be mastered!

On Marilyn Monroe - 'You can never make beauty look stupid but many tried with her. It was her amazing ability to last the test of time, which proved that stupid was something that never did!'

Opinion angers some, but if you can't have an opinion you are not free, and if you are not free, you are in all essence a prisoner to another’s thoughts, actions and ideologies. It is what makes you the person you are. The voice of identity. An identity which says that you, I and everyone else are entitled to voice an opinion. Opinion is merely an opinion. How do you avoid an opinion that neither hurts or offends someone, somewhere, in some way? But I am reassured that it ha

Praying for this day to end as death surrounds me. As scared as any man, yet I no more than a child. Suffering each friend’s demise as in horror I reel. Sacrificing my sanity and all I once knew, little as that was. Cold bodies, charred bodies, faceless bodies abound. Hearing the screams of fallen mates and those I know not. Every sound I hear magnified in hell’s tortured mind. Nearing death oneself as shells descend. Good God! Dreams, optimism, youth’s filled hope, banished

F Did ever more beauty speak words, than eyes touched by heavenly spheres, where beauties eyes did gaze their most important deeds. Were ever more beauty to descend from creative imagery, where pictures of mind do cast a visionary sight, enfolding dreams of night. Stars and moon, sun and air do share your beauty and if perchance thy vision end, thy mind forever its beauty send.

The world is full of mind numbing depravity to acts of great love. Mankind reaches from the beautiful to the most abhorrent. In the making of a human being from a child of innocence to an adult of love or hate we are to define humanity as neither a substance of love nor hate, but a voluminous mixture of both.

There are too many who judge you, and too many who think they know best. If you have a passion for anything in life, you have been a success. Perfection is in all essence, an unattainable desire. For that which is perfect to one, will have flaws to another. Always be happy to get as near as damn it. For it is there that a certain degree of happiness can and shall be found.

Give me rational and reasoned argument and I will listen. I will give you rational and reasoned argument but will you listen? I will question you, will you answer me? You will question me, I will answer you. Does that make me better than you? Or you better than me? Is your truth more worthy than mine? My answer is all truth is worthy. We as human beings just need to know when it is found!

I know nothing of the rules of poetry, but I do know the language of love, inspiration and the fires of muse in which my soul thrives.

I am as art but a mere canvas upon which every thought is detailed and given substance. The colours excel in my desire to fulfil my dream of a painting that defines what I am as a man. The brush moves like a ballerina in graceful pursuit of the perfect dance. I can be forgiven my weariness at times, when the day's long, long hours play mischief with my mind. A reluctance to sleep that weary head buried in an object desire for perfection, where my soul can delight in a pleasur

I Once Was I sat looking at someone I knew I knew, but somehow I know them not. Each page of each day has lines that diminish one by one. You are not you anymore and I not I. I look in the mirror of time and relate to so little. The I that I use to be is not the I that I am now. All that is me is coiled in a spiralling oblivion of what used to be. My mind races with thoughts of what I am to you. Expressions seem the only way you know, but know not, of what I think, feel and a

As with all seekers of the truth like myself they will know, if it has a flaw or contradiction, it simply isn't truth!

James Randi once a world famous Magician and sceptical debunker of the highest order offered a 'One Million Dollar' challenge to anyone who believed they could prove they had a 'psychic or paranormal ability'. I challenged him 32 years ago and here was his reply. The reality was there was no million dollars and Randi would not entertain the Cockney Bard. I wonder why?

I can't believe it was all those years ago. An appearance on ITV and then hugely popular show Blind Date. Can you believe at its peak it had 20 million viewers. Here I am crushing Cilla!

The Cockney Bard reads an inspired piece from his book Dead Poets Pen. Video Courtesy of Andreas Yiasimi.

If I were a soldier If I were a soldier and cradled in my arms was a dying man, would I thank my lucky stars I was still alive? Or would I think for just that fleeting second of the child you once were, and the mother who held you like I do now? Would I then lay down my arms? Would I weep uncontrollably? Would I be half the man that I am now? I wonder if I were a soldier would I feel sympathy for that life lost? My enemy, my foe, or perhaps my friend in another lifetime? Woul