Change your fate

Suicide an shiny empty packet

War on the poor and disabled the governments criminal racket

What we leave behind only pollution

Only distortion

Only a walking abortion

Change your ways and your fate

Don’t give way to hate

Stand firm

We are not worms food

Don’t regret your life in any form

You were given a life from when you were born

Not empty

Or tragic

Give birth to magic

In this pen tangle

Create an angel

Out of the ashes

Of heart shaped gashes

Love is the twin sister of hate

and the dark is to light

Learn to master the fight

and hate inaction

Be the master of action

Leave the page full of words

and the sky full of birds

Which nest in the tree

We have grown

Don’t die alone…

Your Angel

they said she would hold your heart

in the deepest darkest part of her soul

her love for you burning like a curse out of control

but they lied or was it fate

because love is hate

war is peace

and you are still free

but dumb in this land of the glum

A setting sun wanting to be her equal

by the quill you write with

you fight with

you love her with respect

does she respect you?

for you were her favourite

where you depraved right?

To turn and walk and away

when she seeks other men to kiss on her pillow

you are just a weeping willow

she cries on

a somber song she lives on

But when is all said and done

you fight for her when the worlds unfair and wrong

you are her strength

the love given that makes her strong

and when she finally sees

the forest from the trees

will you guide her

keep her stride

for you and her make world collide.

The fabric of our being

Two eyes that see

One heart that feels

Is the soul real?

Or do we have an existential crisis?

in the very fabric of our being

I suppose that’s the cost of dreaming.

Reality is stranger than fiction

it is my addiction

to believe in both dreams and reality

but both are restrictive

because both our limited to habits and thoughts

and we are caught

in their spiders web.

Haunted spouse

In a house on a hill

there was a married couple

with woman who’s will was broken

domestic bliss

started out with one kiss

now she’s haunted by the ghost of how her life should’ve been

he said he wished they never met

he yearned for a life of adventure

he says he’s been held back

through the crack

In the wall of their house

She believes she can see the stars.

Her eyes puffy from tears

her heart putty to fears

which shape her into clay pot

of wasted memories and time

why didn’t she travel the world?

instead of having marrying him

though she doesn’t regret having two boys and a girl.

She’s a haunted spouse

who will one day haunt a house

with memories bitter sweet

and taste the the pain of defeat

of eyes that shouldn’t of met

his stare

she yearns for another man to hold her and care

love and life are both unfair

and don’t hold her gaze

she sits and smokes her life to ashes.

Sandwich board lives

From skid row street
to death row and where they meet
you’ve exchanged your life
For a dollar sign and strife
crack alley coloured black
devil cries into your pipe
where shit travels
and you forget to wipe
where is the contrast?
Life for rent
Broken and bent
the colour, the shape of your heart
Before it was torn apart
Give me the child of hope
not the man who copes
with life emotions cut loose
the tyranny of time’s choice
you’ve lost your voice
chasing the dollar
forgetting to holler
about your dreams
while your desolation screams
sandwich board lives.

The title is “sandwich boards lives”because people in this sort of crisis have lost their voice and yet they wear despair and loneliness like a sandwich board you can see it in their face and how they present themselves.

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.

Lament of the sparrowman

In a down and out town
Lives a man not occupied enough to be a clown
the jokes on him
and the joke wears thin
living in the past
cast in the jaws of hell that last
and captures all his virtues narrowed
by fate in acting up too late he is a sparrow
locked in a cage
Mindless and in a unconscious rage
he may tweet on Twitter
and he has a lot to witter
on about
but his mind is full of doubt
and opportunities don’t come often
to soften
the blows which rain down from people with agendas
who will take advantage of misadventure
and misfortune
he is a drunken loon
not by alcohol but by the moon
insanity is casting aspersions
and his friends leave and desert him
he yearns like the sparrow to fly free
but he hasn’t got heaven’s key
medical sedatives don’t inspire visions
What he needs is a decision
to break with the past.