The devil on a cross

The whisper of a shadow song

Morning star no glory

just a story

I am just lived backwards

hidden track words

scars like lines across paper

can I save her?

I am not what you think

drinking from a cup of agony

no God can save me

but death won’t enslave me

I am midnight verse

nails won’t surrender to my skin

the truth they told you the lies worn thin.

We are gathered here today

We are gathered here today

To bear witness

to pray for the best of ourselves

we buried

so we could fill our food shelves

and work jobs we hate

but not abbreviate

our own sadness

madness caves us in

we are lost

in depraved cravings

as another migrants ship sinks

where is our humanity

we are on the brink

of degrading and hating our own species

or has that ship sailed on its own sea of faeces

I don’t know so say a prayer

for the people we could have been

if life wasn’t so mean

and we hadn’t of adopted

and been co-opted

into ideologies of hate

as we masterbate

over our own tribal race

and forget that we supposed to love every face.

This wasn’t the life that was advertised

I am surprised

and yet lies

are a belief of some kind

they advertised this life but it has been unkind.

They teased social mobility

the agility to move into the middle class

but aspirations

fall short

they distort

where realised truths stands the door

to the psychiatric ward

where holidays abroad

stand a benefits trap

a DWP map

with no way out

I doubt

I will find a way

into a future a brighter day.

This life isn’t as advertised

through google goggles

through YouTube models

I don’t have a car

three kids and a wife

I have pain and strife

Pessimism is my crutch

no offers or as much

No one gives me a chance at a job

they just call me a benefits slob

I look after my Dad as carer

they swear yeah

even when diagnosed with a serious mental health problem

they think I robbing

tax payers

and no amount of praying

will solve

when the life as advertised dissolves.

Honesty

People don’t want truth

delusions and illusions

are more loved

more accepted

more respected

Honesty, a fools game

people douse you in shame

a repulsive mix

stick and stones

may break my bones

but words will dethrone

a king from his own throne

and people will turn away

and leave him alone

the mirror of truth is always distorted

we want to keep it that way

we aren’t objective

we want to be respected

but our public relations feed on Facebook

would bleed away if ever we showed who really are

Our fragility and our fragile ego

Break like a dropped model of Lego.

Undead poetry

whispers of poems in every generation

long forgotten

bodies may decay and become rotten

But the words hang in the cold fresh autumnal air.

The undead poet from their grave may save

humanity still

it’s a battle of wills

selling poetry at bookshop tills.

softness and grace left in memories of one’s who knew them the most

although it’s his words live on like ghosts

a gnarled wizard staff

summons the poets craft

summoning words and stanzas

and questions rhymes and answers

Pulling them from sleepy faded ink

to relive times and make us think…

It’s all in your head

It’s all in your head

the schizophrenia

the uncertainty

behind the curtains of your mind

to be special,

to be magic is to be tragic

to be alone

than one of your drones

is your superhero ability or curse

left in the storm of denial

we are all crazy here

with broken smiles

token, broken people

who believe in science and logic

So pluck your theories from the air

and prove you care

you make the meaning

even if your dreaming

It’s all in your head

so drive yourself mad

and stand alone

even the devils throne

is not comfortable but it’s home