Ghost stories

Rain falling on the decomposing leaves
cold autumn air breathed in warm lungs
the wind blows muttering ghost stories
into our ears.

Pumpkins carved into wickedly twisted smiles
we dress up for Halloween discos and parties with style
gathering sweets as we go
while the full moon glows

Bonfires built as we wait for the 5th of November 
when fireworks will explode and sparkle in the night sky
we remember the gun powder plot 
as we toast marshmallows on the bonfire.

You are darkness

You are darkness

but there are stars shining in that darkness

the night gives the stars room to shine

and heaven is a heart that mines

all the diamonds in the sky

for us when we die

you cannot have the light without the dark

you cannot have light without a spark

which illuminates the dense darkness of night

we gravitate towards the light

we need it’s warmth like a beacon

otherwise we weaken

but the dark is place of growth also

and we grow in the dark towards the light.

A man filled to the brim

A man filled to the brim

with importance like a full pint

waiting to have his glass smashed

and the contents on the bar room floor

in a bar room brawl

or drunk or consumed

by time

I unlike have had my confidence dashed

my pint glass gone it’s contents drunk

I skulk in the background

I was only ever a lemonade man

in the shade never seen or scanned

by eyes

my life never pretty lies.

The change from boy to man (my journey)

I remember my dad calling me a hobbledehoy

neither man or boy

teen ageing is hard
I became a wild card
bottling up my emotions and becoming unstable
I remember the good days and bad
But at sixteen
in my wild dreams
I broke down in sobs and screams
at eighteen
I was diagnosed schizophrenic
but I realise that madness is a pandemic
and most of us will flounder
in its sea of tears

I love you beyond

I love you beyond the life I lead

Beyond the daydreams I had as a child

Beyond this cage of bone

Beyond the words I pray

I love you beyond the fabric of dark matter

Beyond the earth which houses my body

beyond belief and believing

beyond the sands of time

beyond gravity which holds me down

beyond the demons of desperation

I love you beyond separation

Beyond my eyes which gaze

beyond music which sings out

In the blackest hope I will find you

and I will grasp your hand

sit with you and make you understand

The Character we are

In Stories written

I am smitten by hero or heroin

Life is stranger that the art we stare in

fairy tale romances underneath the surface glances

uncovers a setting

But I am betting you couldn’t of picked a better villain from your library book

But look,

and you will see

that there is a reason behind

their evil mentality.

It starts with there parents story

as it recycles on

Unhappiness detachment from love

is a somber song

sometimes played from a harp.

We are not the people who we thought

we are the stories we tell ourselves

the book our character is the one we tell ourselves we ought to play

but in the light of day

and in the night time

we hold onto the person we’ve told ourselves

we are,

whether we are lion king

or scar

we are not the character written on our forehead by god or the stars

we are the character fashioned and shaped by life our parents and ourselves

But do you know we can change our fortunes by changing the way we think

about ourselves in our own head

by burying the past and leaving it for dead.