Night shift had finished much earlier than expected, not many people looking for a taxi, five thirty am on this dry but cold summers morning, he let himself into the small first floor flat as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his wife or any of their three small children at this early hour. As is normal to some night shift workers, he opened the refrigerator where he retrieved an ice cold can on Tennents lager, the small stool became his perch by the slim kitchen window, he smoked and supped for five minutes, relaxing after the boredom of his shift, financial worries and tiredness trying their best to invade his thoughts.  The lager tasted good, as each mouthful slid down his neck he could feel the cold liquids journey inch by inch, he sighed 'haaaa' the sigh of semi-contentment. Suddenly he heard someone attempting to open the rear door of the Victorian tenement building, situated directly below the kitchen window, this door was kept locked on a permanent basis,

The Wishing Tree. Part One: Gnarled, knotted, with twisted limbs, her branches over up and out, in several arm like coils, no longer able to bear leaves or buds in the summer time, brittle if touched she may crumble and fall if pushed too suddenly by the strong coastal winds. Her position among the bulls in the field, 20 feet from the iron fence on the secluded roadway  at Glasserton, outside the Town of Whithorn, Wigtownshire, meant that those who passed by who were out for the day or walking dogs along this dry and level dirt road sometimes hardly even knew that she was there, some of course did, those who had imagined her to a mystical entity due to he unusual demeanour may have thought wishes possible, but that sort of thing is only a fairy tail. The last who had made his wish was about to receive it, she could not understand why this young man had wished for such a thing.  " I am here to serve!" her mantra ran through her structure. The time approached. Abov

In the nineteen eighties when I was but a lad, I began every Saturday to go along to various venues in Paisley, where I and many, many others were witness to some quiet incredible musicianship, from a multitude of bands, the representation of different genres was astonishing.   The blues scene in Paisley at the time was something to be very proud of for those who attended and for the many talented men and women who played an active part, Dennis McBride, Jukebox, Gordon, big Al, The Sons, Brazil, too many bands too remember.  As a regular spectator, ,usually too pished to truly appreciate the brilliance, but giving it my best shot, I started talking one Saturday to a man called Craig who along with his wife was always in and around the music scene in paisley.   Craig, despite being a bit older than myself and my friends was always a true gent, never any bother to be around, and as many of us will remember from those times that wasn't always how gigs rolled JINGS!!  Craig a

Warmth and kindness Not social blindness Charitable intentions Oppose, greed and deception Altruism Is never selfish Honour Towards all around Feet planted firmly Upon fertile fruitful ground Knowing who you are Not what others would believe you to be The true self Shines through Beauty In every aspect of life Of thought Of feeling Breaking free The false glass ceiling Limitless Being a human Not religious There is no need No false prophets In which to take any heed You are who you are They cannot say otherwise Sometimes foolish In your own heart wise Smart as a tack Blunter than a spoon As bright as the sun And as illuminated as the fullest moon You Me The man next door Or the woman down the road Your mothers child Your daughters son Grandparents who have experienced Decades Before you were born Everyone is everything In this life Here on earth Capable of loving Or of be

Why are we here Spinning so fast Working for the penny Taxed to the last What is it That says that it is OK For millions of people To pay and pay and pay Taxed for our comforts and for our care Revenue's gone crazy In every single way Levy the punters Take twenty percent of a wage The VAT man is mental He steals from us each day The wealthy Have riches and that is just fine If they've earned it they deserve it Each man to his ain A government that values Stripping away The rights of the poor man Who eke's out and scrapes Is less than inhuman Its my right to say What price to be settled How much should change hands For the honest and forthright To believe that they can When children go hungry Families seek help From charities who offer Food for their mouths Cut backs are one thing Taxation is another Utilities are expensive They will get dearer The competitionless Conglomurates raise tariffs No fear of anyone Telling them to st

Morning they call it When the alarm clock erupts Startled from sleeping Rudely, It interupts   The dream you were having About all kinds of things Faces and meetings Vividly seen Once your awake You'll forget everything     The warmth of the duvet The pillow so soft Outside the rain lashes The windows a drum A tune beat too quickly Rhythmically thrummed   You press the snooze button For nine minutes more Aware as you do so That you won't have much time to snore   Just as sleep takes you Back towards nod The shrill of the demon Awakes you, Oh god!   Dragging your carcus From out of the bed The carpet beneath you Hair wild on your head   Thoughts of your purpose Today in the world Appointments and driving This grey early dawn Overcast and down-cast This week will be long     AGL       

Solitude and The Farmed by AG Leyden,  released in 2011 is still available on amazon and from most online bookstores.