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.
Sounds the same
dubstep bass sound gains
the themes of songs will they run out
recycled like words of revolution
films and their titles
characters and dance recitals
books and villains
psychosis and chilling vendettas
is anything really new?
colours and musical spectrums
songs on the radio, a selection
the human condition and reality
dragging out themes
they generate our generations dreams
can we be different
can we be new
can ideas be lost
can they grow inside of you?
In your eyes the tragic reminder
that memories fade
into the void
and get destroyed
I loved you more than my heart conveyed
though time is a blade
it cuts out the good and bad
memories or leaves scars
the stars that aligned
now fate has mined
and we with left separated when we should have been entwined.
A National scandal
that’s hard to handle
with powerful people used as toys
billionaires with their terror wrists write cheques
disabled people die with no respect
media moguls cry wolf
when they are predators
preying on our petty fears
making us cry fetish tears
we are the children who have no power
soured by the failing democracy
an autocratic dictatorial government
who no longer view as people
an evil view of us as merely slaves
to a system
which will make us redundant
which AI and robots will make abundantly clear
through a narrow lens.
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
Radioactive X-rays know
Poetry opens doors
I am the emergency poet
I will take flight
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
Because poetry heals
and steals back our songs
what could go wrong?
When billionaires are sitting on more money than a lords hoard
and their money is in a tax haven abroad
can a billionaire work harder than overstretched nurse?
and the nurse has to go to a food bank because of their empty purse
It’s exploitation of peoples hard work.
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?
turn the page before it burns away
cinders, words charred
Life is fire or is that an illusion?
Love the unquenchable desire
to form flame
to gather that person’s many names
and love them all
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
The ash forms a tree
Yggdrasil the ash tree of life
Forming us anew
The flames that burn in me and you
No matter how you change the font
words stay the same
I know I am not your type, am I to blame?
I could be made of muscles with six pack and broad shoulder and arms of Steel
but I am not
I could be a scientist with a silver tongue eloquent or just very well hung
I am me there is only one version of myself
I can’t change
I realise my limitations
I won’t be able to perform and act as an imitation
I am who I am
Love me or let me go
for its you I love I know you know!
The God detective
Through out my life my abstract mind has been able to detect and find patterns in life and the words people say. I know that life is a deeper mystery than people in the field of science and psychiatry think.
I have battled with my demons, demons which I still battle. I rattle the cage fight in the desperate stages and write in the pages of my own story. I maybe a dragon falling off the wagon of sanity. However I am intrigued by her she is the greatest story I will ever gain. I know her name is Sophia she is the girl with many faces.
I still see her sometimes though it’s strange the voices quieten and sometimes even stop. Is this a coincidence?
Art by Zoe Zass