The colours that bleed into one

The rainbow becomes white light

All we love we long for and fight with

pages torn, we try to forgive

and live on.

The anger we once held

falls away in the cold light of day

We preach to the pavements

that people walk on,

they point the way

chalk quotations written on and on

can’t you tell?

Love is the only sanity

the only truth we lean upon.

Hope bends like a trees branches

but the light on the river still dances

we flow like water

whether sons or daughters

we catch the light that’s brought us here

pigeon toed we may walk

The road the pavement goes on

Serenaded by destiny’s song

we are the children of the roads

we walk.

But for every rainbow

There is a price

living each day as it comes

and fighting to not be numb

but when all is said done

We are our shades

the river water the blades of grass

heaven has always been here no need to ask

grab my hand feel it’s warmth

in the chill cold air

I know you care

when you clasp my hand in yours

I know life the great teacher will settle the scores

and for all it’s flaws

it still has the power to open jaws.

I am your gift

Gifted to you

not in the greatest wrapping paper

but I am person you can savour

not aesthetically pleasing always to the eye

but to you I would never lie

I speak the truth

I can make you smile

all the while

you can’t buy me from any supermarket aisle

I am your gift

you can’t find me under a tree

I am too big

I am messy but no stig of the dump

I work hard for you walking in trainers my pumps

I am your gift

remember me when your having a bad day

I will come round and lighten your sadness as much as I can, ok?

for I am a friend the greatest gift of all

is when you and I rise and walk tall.

The narcissist trap

I stare at my phone screen

dreaming, scheming

I need constant attention

what a wonderful invention

I need likes and comments

I can write sonnets

to myself

in my Instagram posts

I can puff my chest and boast

but all my dreams are toast

I am narcissus staring at my reflection

on further inspection

I only love myself

and this phone is an extension of me

I shouldn’t choose to die

but this life is self absorbed lie.

Just thoughts

Thoughts

Thoughts should fill my mind

but I am blind.

my words just hot air

and my tears just water

I sink beneath the autumn leaves

I am just caught here.

my sentiments just cliches

my ideas yesterday views

the true artists leave me

they pick apart my clues

My brain just wreckage

my poems just spoken

all thats left of me is shopping carts

and Tesco’s tokens

My wages are benefits

My unemployed gains

I am picking apart the drains

for my blood stains

everything I do

I haven’t even got a clue…

Her gardner’s hands

Time may pick her locks

moths eat her frocks

and her splendid looks may fade

but she will still hold my heart

like the spark of her voice

hangs like an echo in the Everglades

in Elysium fields her flowers grow

Only the roses know

the gardeners hands

we nurture the voice we want to hear

even if it is the one we fear

we grow all of what we know

I loved her so

but I was fearful of losing

the ghost of her out of my head.

For if I lose her voices dulcet tone

I will be truly left alone…

End of Era

Records and tapes

times that were great

when mobile phones didn’t exist

or were brick like

we went on hikes

long walks

football games in the park

until it got dark

we played board games

and weren’t board

hero quest and chess

Droughts snakes and ladders were the best

Rubiks cubes

Ice pop tubes

frozen lollies

going to the beach

with a brolly

being active roly polys

watching 4 TV channels

going to grans who always had the radio on

feeding the ducks and swans

with my Mum

Dad taught to ride a bike

without stabilisers

play fighting with siblings what could go wrong?

feeling invincibly strong

and a feeling of hope

the future wouldn’t be a joke

and it was the end of era

a 80s child a 90s young man

somethings you have to experience to understand.

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.

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