A.J. Walker


Wake Up

Wake Up

The landscapes in which we live are lies told by poor memories
and unfulfilled wishes.
If you could really see the truth though it is
- and always was -
Wake up and smell the coffee, hear the birds, and hear the bin trucks down the road.
Clean out the dinner waste from the plug hole. Wash the car, and cut the lawn.
Take the smooth with the rough. Enjoy the rough for what it is:
Wondrous life.
Wake up. Wake up. It is beautiful. It is once in your lifetime.
It is once:
your lifetime.

Going Home To Bed

Going Home to Bed

Sculptured isolated hardness,
skyscrapers of tumbled fossiled ocean-life.
Sea rumbles in relentless.

Sonic booms when the waves strike just right.
Jurassic souls separated from their sedimentary beds,
Restored to the sea by its might.

Ode to Winter On Fazakerley Station

Ode to Winter on Fazakerley Station

Reflective workmen sit beneath a tree,
smiling and laughing - on a tea-break high.
Bitter cold breeze sends shivers right through me;
a pale yolk sun smears the Wedgewood blue sky.
Winter freshness always invigorate.
Clarity of the light, sharp as a pin,
train from Kirkby visible along the straight.
Meanwhile a lone blackbird jauntily sings.
Fleeces keeping others toastily warm,
while screeching brakes make me shiver again.
Stresses melting on the railway platform.
There’s something comforting traveling by train.
These relaxing moments precious to me,
but I’m gasping for a cup of tea.

Night Football

Night Football

The kids don’t play football on fields anymore,
And they don’t play it late at night.
They stand on street corners, scaring the locals;
There’s something here that’s not right?

When I was a kid we played football,
From when we got up ‘til passed nine.
I even ate extra carrots,
To make the Night Football shine.

We’d stay on the field ‘til our parents
Came storming down the road,
“You can’t see in this!” they’d shout,
but we would never be told.

Somewhere kids lost their taste
For this nocturnal football game
Playstations, X-boxes, crap telly....?
but it’s mainly the parents I blame

All the fields I pass now
remain dark and empty;
And all the kids seem bored,
and drink alcohol aplenty

Well, it’s time for a change,
Take a stand, one and all.

Lets take the alcohol back for us,

and give the kids Night Football.

Super Sunday

Super Sunday

Sundays always used to be
dark and dreary in memory.
Black and white movies on TV,
giant roasts, as big as me
Now grown up,
well, nearly,
it’s still spent with the TV

Super Sunday footy heaven,
in the pub until eleven
with a pint, or maybe seven,
kebab later?
well that’s a given.
Footy’s on, so get a bev in,
check out the girl who is servin’.

Sunday’s for football, not for church,
no need to leave me in the lurch
if you want to do some praying
footy’s what to put your faith in.