she spent her life being a ghost
trying to live a life just like most
passed around like a leech
from host to host
burning bridges not giving a dam
she the ghost is what am I

she survived wave after wave
of the badly timed persecution
she drowned in many cold River
with the eels a primitive sort
of electrocution
she the ghost that’s what I am

she ran for miles when the country was poor
climbed every mountain mapped every moor
she knew every cave and hidden waterways
she could. go off the map for many days
she the ghost that’s who I am

she survived child birth maybe also the plague
a couple of droughts when the rain didn’t play
not many showers of fortune a few blood baths
too many tears and not one minute to laugh
she the ghost that she always was

she watched in the shadows as the world evolved
saddened by her view as humanity was dissolved
helpless to intervene as the world faded away
the buffoons without spirituality wanted to pray.
she the ghost but more human than me.

as the skies exploded in the middle east
as the deadly virus grew in intensity
as world leaders fought over a weak ideology
everyone forgot about the basic rule of humanity
she the ghost more soul than you

when tears fell from her nonexistent eyes
angered with all the humans lies
feeling bitter more and more every single day
but she refused to flee or fade away
she is the ghost that wants to stay.
© Darren Hobson 2020


ghost watches from afar
friday night promenade
the residents in masks
the roman tourists without
virus is fighting back
the population tired of rules
fear of lockdown in the air
most people don’t care

ghost watches a scene
at three sirens at play
trying to make a web for men
hoping they can pay
a nobel cause for poverty
they want a constant stream
of euros from me
I fell in the trap hopelessly

ghost watches the Englishman
squirm in the trap
looking for a lucky escape
he wasn’t good at that
deeper into trouble he goes
he must have a weakness for the ladies
trying not to lie or lay down
he seems to be a little crazy

ghost watches as the man flees
with his tail between his legs
knowing he has wasted their time
deep down he is upset
feeling hurt for being manipulated
feeling dumb for being a fool
he wants to help the world heal
but in the end he feels so cruel

ghost senses everything everywhere
sometimes people really do care
she hopes that he can forgive Martina
and in turn she will not be so offended
of the madman from england
who wasted her precious time
she hopes her kindness reached those in need
in deepest darkest Africa.
©Darren Hobson 2020


ghost has seen it all before
a smile a compliment and deceit
the ancient art of deception
to knock someone off their feet

a promise too good to be true
you know they are playing with you
someone gets rich from your weakness
abusing your bloody kindness

it only takes a young ladies smile
for a man to open his purse
just like a demon song of the siren
put in a trance and cursed

today like yesterday always the same
people learnt the ancient art again
like magic candles or trinkets to ward off evil
miracle cures to stamp out all your ailments

in these years the ghost has haunted these shores
she has noticed the same weaknesses in man
the monotony of the daily grind
always playing tricks on an unsuspecting mind

and the ghost knows this man
she had watched him before
he shows lots of promise
even if he’s fucking raw

he can’t control his perverse emotions
he always was negligent with his behaviour
falling in a trap like a half dead lame wolf
digging deep into a blind alley crater

she knows he just wanted to smile
feel wanted when he feels old
his growing girth a fucking curse
his internal organs are getting worse
his addiction to alcohol and female smiles
has placed this poor fucker into denial
just for a word from a strange young lady
might make his whole existence worthwhile

only the ghost knows that
a stranger in the street bids farewell
she knows that he is ready to collapse
she knows that all is not well

she sees something different in his facade
a delicate soul in a head far too hard
no matter what his addictions may be
he has the balls to set us all free

but he doesn’t know it
he has his head too far up his arse
if only he knew that
his destiny was poetry
and the best by far

so she sits ghostly in the wings
waiting for the time is right
hoping the cunt and his poetry
will finally light up our night
© Darren Hobson 2020