The story will die with us

The story you’ve kept secret all these years
Dies with you
Caught on the tongue
Stung on your heart
Like a bee
I talk to myself
All I am left with a voice and story I can’t say
I pray I will meet you to talk to you in person
but our fears have worsened
You are a part of me that never goes away
It is our story that sticks in my throat
Like a bone
I am cold and alone
naked without the story we fashioned
Ashened and sack clothed
In my jaws of justice
I can’t say how I feel
I kneel at the gates of heaven
or hades
hoping that the trees will shade me
I talk to their branches and leaves
but does any one truly believe?
I was a messenger once
Cursed to talk of love
But never know
What it means
Even in my dreams
I cannot grasp a sense of success
if my story’s true
Then the colours of the rainbow belong to me and you
and I am your guardian.

The promise

When the rain cries for me
would you follow my story?
It’s not ordinary.

I trap them in my fire, in my hell
I broke into her house just to tell her
I loved her soul to bones
I just can’t leave her alone
old Father Time was sleeping in his arm chair
but I found we had traded places
the woman with many faces
and many time lines
my crime is I wasn’t able
To put all my cards on the table
I am the life you never lived
the man you couldn’t forgive
for leaving you alone on your marble throne.

The road

The road we are heading down
is a totalitarian nightmare
homeless being less well treated than a stray dog
polluted rivers and dreams smog covers the sky
as we are born into slavery and die
no accountability from our governments
the poor and disabled laments
as we fall into the garbage of the present tense
we are human don’t you know we were all born this way
the love in hearts falling through the hour glass
cast in the depths of hell
the rich get richer we are no deeper than the graves
we fall into
the sins of our generations will be remembered
as our bodies our broken and dismembered
for capital gain
trespassing on the lands of shame
we are guilt ridden if we don’t fight back
we might as well draw back
the smoke from a crack pipe
and die masking our pain
we are human we are all born with a brain
and a soul
but money has us under the Kosh
and we are squashed.

Playground games

The flower what might have been hope it’s but a label
the adult I am a fable
slowly growing unable.

my words can longer stand
like petals in the wind
love like life sin, missed targets
and getting a grade F
fucking it all off in jest

life is a test paper
but we all have to get different scores
life is unfair and that is the first law
I learnt to remember
life’s first lesson
I keep

it doesn’t matter how beautiful
or big your heart is
or how nicely you kiss
conform or be hit with reality fist
for we all abuse the different
the playground is my reference.

We are Boys

man up?
When did our yearning to protect and serve
and keep people safe?
turn into rage and wanting danger?
We are no stranger to tragedy
avidly wrestling with our desire for violence
was it taught by society and our father, are they keeping silent?

Soldiers growing colder each day
to the god of man we pray
to teach us a better way.

Anger our, “man up” emotion
lost in its devotion
we need different role models action man won’t cut it.
As we destroy ourselves fighting and wrestling with the anger inside
as we collide with the alternate worlds we hide
inside the potential we have
and are told to bite at ourselves
as “man up” is the only thing we hear
we disappear from the innocence
we held dear
the blood stained tear
gives way more often to anger and fear.

A punk prayer

A punk prayer

A leather studded glove
A love for the obscene
I’d like to f*ck you it’d be my dream
Mohawks and tats
Never mind the bollocks you tw*ts
Chains of thick metal
and studs and hoops
Groupies and groups of the disaffected
Reflected in the eyes of your sunglasses
Tartan mini skirts and asses
Anarchy in the eyes of the youth
Paint the town red
Amen in the eyes of new gods
men and women