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

The erosion of empathy

You play hero I will play villain

though shades of grey exist and the truth not always willing

to rear it’s ugly head

filled with the expectation of being cancelled

and being heard

or Amber Heard

is different from being adept

or Johnny Depp.

we are divided down many lines and labels

and what we are being told merely a fable

when we can’t take it with a pinch of salt

and we halt

and can’t show a sign of empathy

How did life and judgement get so unjust

and all cards we hold are bust

because we no longer care just lust over celebrities

while our empathy is eroded and no treaty

or thought police AI can save us

from not understanding the people we see before us.

Pestilence

I am a prison of puppets

muppets who can’t free themselves

Supermarket shelves bare

I am cursed

empty pursed.

lips dry and empty

swept under the Carpet of artificial grass

I can’t be arsed

freedom is too hard a task

I am can’t save myself

for all grasping

rearrange the letters in my name

it spells denial

I can smile

but happiness won’t change a thing

I can’t stop dreaming

scheming

a way out of dread

but pestilence fills my head…

Voiceless child

I was wild and free once upon a time

a child with time and rhymes

but my parents can’t listen

just thought of me being bad

curbing my behaviour

they couldn’t be my saviours

I went quiet wanting to start a riot

It could have gone two different ways

but life strays on to one path

the aftermath of which

made me a background poet

my poetry is the ink I bleed

from wounds I don’t need

My parents need me to be their counsellor

but I can’t

I just can’t…

cycles can be broken

when loves awoken

but sometimes I want to fight back

to see the crack

of light through the walls.

The Emergency Poet

The feel of the pen

on the paper

the poet grabs a verse.

the dripping of morphine

the flow of endorphins

flow of electronic lines

across the monitor

let’s hope we don’t flatline

this mere mortal

needs a portal to the stars

this mere mortal needs

defibrillation to the heart

the way the poetry forms

in the lungs and the mind

the way life needs beauty

is sometimes unkind

I am the blood transfusion

the illusion

of poems

bells chime

Electrons flow

Radioactive X-rays know

Poetry opens doors

I am the emergency poet

I will take flight

in flames

never shall I be tamed

But I will make that heart beat

and get you out of your seat

And on the road to recovery

and discovery

Because poetry heals

and steals back our songs

what could go wrong?

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.

Humanity

People like little rivers and tributaries

flowing to the sea

entwined in words with faces dripping in kisses

but I sometimes wonder about what the eye misses;

contact between humans

sometimes we go bone dry because of the shyness of our eyes

which flow with tears

with our fears

which ravage our souls with plastic aspirations

and metallic and jewelled frustrations

has the black phoned mirror stolen our souls?

Or is the water the constant flow of love enough to water our souls?

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.