When Facebook…

When Facebook is filled with memes

broken pictures and shattered dreams

when you respond with a haha like

but no one recognises your plight

when they are too busy finding out their character is that of a potato

and you get ignored but don’t hate though

when they share posts like who would narrate your life

and you want to get out of that conversation because it probably be piers Morgan and his wife

remember you chose to live on Facebook and be a troll

and life is out your door and off your phone which is sucking away your soul.

War on myself (reverse poem try number 2)

In the war on myself

Its my dreams that matter

compassion is a choice

I choose to believe or is it that a lie?

In my 30 years or so of life has always been a battle

But my dreams matter

and that “Once upon a time” is a land where my heart exists

But unless I grasp at my ideals I will never reveal

What people think of me

I do love me

In the future I will still take myself to task

It will be clear that I may fail

only fools presume I don’t have the strength to go on.

NOW READ BOTTOM TO TOP.

Centrefold

Are you as warm and inviting as your picture?

your eyes inciting, emotion

yet a photo is cold to touch

as offers so little, not as much

as a warm hand

and a offer to understand.

You demand attention

with your style and made up grace

But i long to touch a real face

and place my lips on hers

but am not sure

that you’d like me if we met

chances are you and I would regret

see life and love are built on tender moments of time

spent drifting into conversation

not living in frustration

of meeting a lingerie clad model

life is not that kind of movie

But feel free to prove me wrong

with a character to match those looks

maybe I should just keep my head in my books

what could I offer you

but my dreams and poetry all the while

after all I struggle for style and grace

and where your face is pretty

I am ugly and with a worn out smile.

Chemical lobotomy

Inside therapy if I ever had

an answer to a life so sad

in the mirror cold to the touch

we clutch at straws, we miss so much

I am your answer for now

chemicals causing balance

but still the illness wakes

shakes in answer to the sadness

which I cannot shake

I am the mist the fog

of depression

the court is in session

and I see chemicals

a prescription

an covert addiction.

When having someone to talk

to in the early days

May have prevented my fear and depressed ways.

Greta

In the emotion pouring through your words

I can see the love you have for this world

as the liars stoke the fire

and set about dismantling your message

and it’s essence

we need to change we are killing not only ourselves

but eco systems we rely on to stock supermarket shelves

we are killing our future and choking future generations with plastic

We have to make the changes now or our casket will be closed

under a sea of rubbish we all know

should have either never been made

or just recycled.

There are no Hollywood endings

I am sending you my hopes and prayers

but I swear there will be no Hollywood endings

I am sending you my dreams and aspirations

born of perspiration

and tears

But there are no fairy tales here.

Set sail for distant lands

But it’s all just dust and sand

I know there is magic I heard it on the freezing breeze

in the coughs of old men

but life can’t give you a happy ending

you have to find it yourself

and accept it for what it is…

Ghost

In the doorway I can’t escape
I can’t walk through the door
to reset my life.”

my life has game over in the title
it’s sometimes all too frightful
I am ghost of the man I could have been
can you feel my afterlife come along?

It is overtaking me, I am feeling wrong
I know I have to face the demon in the mirror 
I know I can forgive her and myself
my dreams are still mine and I have their wealth 

But can I go the distance alone?
I know my heart beats like a living stone
but I know from the earth
I must ground myself and find my worth.

The shadow behind the sword

In the words we say, a shadow longer than midday sun is cast

Beyond the grave the sword that saves us from the axe

Beyond the taxes and tax collectors in this country vast

though we are but mortals

the books we read our portals

to lives we’ve never lead

our blood runs thick and red.

The shadow behind the sword

is the words we said sincerely

they are the nearly

meant songs of another world

A parallel world when utopia was cast

into years that lasted.

My guide

My guide

I know you won’t believe me.

I know you probably won’t see things from my point of view

I know your heart is beating faster than freight train

but I am you.

As the universe divides and fragments

I can see things that were meant and never meant

that were and never were

in your eyes,

the dreaming of starry skies

the Sunday morning rainbows

the sun that glows

the words permeating your story’s pages with ink

the way we sunk and sink

into grasping the everlasting

you by no means are not a failure

you are the sea the ship I sail on and yeah

I know it’s a sea of salty tears

blown by the winds of love and overblown fears

but you are my guide

a force I cannot hide

as I take my strides

you are my power of three

and my truth I long to see.

Politicians

Card board cut out of humans

would you choose them?

they deny, won’t answer the questions why

because fake news and lies

are easier than

telling us, we fucked up man!

all across the lands

they cling to power

while the environment goes sour

and pollution paves the way

for all our graves

and science to them doesn’t mean a thing

because they are dreaming of fat salaries

from corporations

and tax breaks for themselves

shopping carts and working class elves

we are broken when we can’t tell the truth

they hide behind a smoke screen aloof

but we should get the children asking the questions

because it’s their world not these clandestine people

who yearn for power and are evil.