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.

Is anything really new anyway?

Beat box

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

daydreams scream

they generate our generations dreams

can we be different

can we be new

can ideas be lost

can they grow inside of you?

You look at me with eyes that don’t remember

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

A National scandal

that’s hard to handle

Eton boys

with powerful people used as toys

the ploys

of system

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

of hypocrisy

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 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?

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?

Fire burns

Fire burns

turn the page before it burns away

cinders, words charred

Stars burn

Nuclear fusion

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

I can’t be the man you want

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

or rearrange

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

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