Exceptional

In the days when the exception they say

doesn’t need correction.

we are all creative

but some have it beaten out of us

at some stage

the war the exceptional person rages

is either to have their words heard

or to keep their creative side alive

and not have it brutalised or strangled

an Angel or messenger of light

has to fight to maintain their angle of light

and their perspective and sight.

The gobble de gook monster on your shoulder

The gobble de gook monster on your shoulder

do we get wiser when we get older?

I remain stuttering mumbling

my mind rumbling

with thoughts

I can’t actualise or realise

I cannot translate between mind and pen

and even when

I try to speak my tongue drags across the words

like a flat tyre on a bike

I wish this gobble de gook monster would take a hike

but he’s a part of me like the stories I tell

and even hell

is something I can’t be without.

My Garden

Tears dry up easily

but my love is still fragility

I tend to my life like a garden

but sometimes you just have to let it grow

even the with the weeds you know aren’t good

life is better when we are understood

and sometimes we have to accept

the trauma that lies dormant

except for times of stress

when it grows nevertheless.

My search has ended

My search has ended

When two worlds collided

I expected fireworks

but they burn away

Fiz pop and bang

then no longer are a thing.

I love you but colours fade

I love you

my deeper shade my midnight blue

I know this life’s a prison for some

but I love it’s sweet bitter agony

sometimes

it’s the loneliness I hate.

Raised by cartoon heroes

Here’s a hand here’s a slap

here’s life without a map

parents too busy discuss

never mind get to know their children and trust in them

stem the flow.

I was raised by cartoon heroes

and superhero shows

and the games I played

sonic on the mega drive I never strayed

from their ideals

but my happiness was stolen

by those who created my tears

I missed out on my parents knowing what I could have been if they had of listened through the years.

Who gave you back your swagger, mcjagger

Who gave you the glints in your eyes

the tints of blue skies

without clouds

the angels couldn’t shroud your beautiful soul

I often take strolls

but doll your soul is gold

I am often left with fire when I reminisce

we never kissed

I made a promise like a watcher in the dark

your smile lights my way like a spark.

If humanity stood for kindness

If humanity stood for kindness

not for the awful blindness of thinking they were better

if love entered our hearts and we wrote love letters to the earth

in the form of actions and weren’t distracted

and cursed.

then I wouldn’t be a Poet against humanity

I wouldn’t ask questions about our collective sanity

I’d only ask for love and peace

for life is unfair but we are beasts.

If we evolve into beings of light

then we must ask ourselves to fight

for to preserve justice

for that is humanities only hope.