Darkness and Thorns.

The sky has dropped its foul, grey hue
Upon this world and me;
And when the wind comes howling through,
It brings no felicity.

The birds have lost their will to sing,
And mourn this darkened hour;
The sun becomes a had-been thing,
Which once had supreme power.

Those clouds that touch the earth are dark
And cover the surfaces of seas;
While ashes billow with each spark
And hound all like swarms of bees.

The world has no more flowers to offer
And there are thorns, thorns in my way;
And, I know, my blooms lie in a coffer,
But my thorns will not wilt away.

4th August

How You Deal With Confessions.

When you know what has been on my mind,
Insecurities and heartache, I let you find,
You behave as though a fly buzzed past
Which was more insignificant that the last.
My exposed heart burst with frantic pain,
So I pick it up and squeeze it once again.
I don’t like to see it fallen at your feet,
Your nose turned from the smell beneath.
I don’t like my blood upon your shoes,
You’ll be hampered if your laces come loose.
And I wouldn’t want you to soil your hands,
They are needed to care for your sought-after glands.
The appendages of others, too, need your tending,
So I pick up my heart – it’s just a matter of bending.
I want to let the poor, smelly thing die –
But I can’t let it – I don’t know why!
Perhaps some other hands
Were made to let it rest –
Hold and love it, seal and protect it,
Though within my chest.

8th May
10pm

None and Every.

The air begins low and then sings high,
The birds soar skyward and then swoop by.
The sun melts yellow and mellow shines,
The light shoots through and evades the pines.

Mountains loom, snow falls and water gushes
Through crags between rocks and on rushes;
The chill is duly warmed by the beams,
Heaven on earth … or so it seems …

Concrete and tar rise upward, majestic, ugly,
A cold light of their own gleaming unceasingly,
A stoic hindrance to humanity, no doubt,
A human necessity they can’t do without.

The air lacerated with darkened soot and mindless smog,
Breezes stilled, beams dimmed, breath blocked,
Desolation crawls within as do suicidal tendencies,
Life’s utter folly, its own vagrancies.

The aimless thirst for what is not to what is,
To take from another what was never his,
Lie for no reasonable and explicable cause,
To exist, to not just live, but just because.

A child’s laughter so pure, almost divine,
Leads to beauty, joy and happiness sublime.
A man’s grown chuckle so virile, so morbid,
Resembles inborn greed and all that’s sordid.

A daughter’s anguished pain and her incessant weeping,
Her father’s grin and his forced ignorance constantly creeping.
The burst of metal and fire, the end of a living thing,
Existing billions blown from being to nothing.

Though the Mother still survives and lives on,
Though the Blessed Faith carries upon
A ruthless world, Hope remains and moves
To etch within Destiny its lovely grooves.

And the sun still shines and burns bright,
Just like the stars that burn at night.
The sand still sifts as the wind sighs,
And people still cry when love dies.