The stream (all workshops)
Chaotically clustered
cage of cards
covering all
cynically
silent sides
of life plainly
plastered before my
persistently
passing
presence of the
present day.
Thoughtlessly
thrashing out the
leisurely
overlapping lanes
of possibilities
prancing through
the pressuring
palms of probability.
With a
single stern
stomp taking back
the cross mask of control.
There steadily
stumbled down
the obliquely
built walls
of ambiguity
it was a beautiful flame
and it had to burn
the paper with our names
it had to wash away
each side of the coin shall always remain
I had a vision of a lonely Man
Who on his shoulders weight was laid
With every sadness that sorrow can
That in his eyes was Spirit made
To capture time and tame the rage.
His pouting mouth formed early age
But in his blood he sought the fight
And always knew a sense of right.
I read his words and heard the shout,
“Not yet will I turn about!”
I looked long for him, his never die
And found him in the wind’s dark sigh.
The creator of mortals, but only of men it is said...
Instigator through portals, of many flames blue to red.
Punished by Zeus, his liver a feast for the birds,
Left alone and not heard, but actions are louder than words.
The epitome of honour, eternal pain to help men
Out of the fire came knowledge, progress, and then ..
Pandora opened a jar, out flew much evil and sin
From then women were shamed, the men would win.
Tattooing Biscuit coloured
Backs with haphazardly soul
sunken prints, feet bars getting
kissed by rolling rushing turquoise
waves with white foamy caps.
Its froth briny toungue pushing
out jellyfish and crab cones
Weightless driftwood surfing
aimlessly, sheets of golden
light rebounded off the sluggish
warm highway sea.
THE BULLY
Being a bully is a state of mind
Not always physical you’ll find
Nor even aggressive behaviour
I wonder, who needs a saviour
And who’s the real victim here
Bullies are bullied it may appear
Yet is this all psychological fluff
Those affected have had enough
Not long before one might snap
And react with more than a slap
To pursue a permanent solution
Finally ending all the persecution
When I'm in a depressive phase
the whole world gets duller
like everything is muted and grey
music no longer sends chills up my spine
I can't concentrate on anything
long enough to satisfy my senses
I can't read or watch TV
or even write...
I just lie in bed
existing
waiting
for the voices to quiet enough
that I can sleep
Logs crossed to meet
their fiery destiny.
twigs added
to aid the match.
Failing, the logs
are bathed in fluid
to make their future
come in the form of light
and the scent of smoke.
People ring the bonfire
with marshmallows
on metallic sticks to be wed
with chocolate and
graham crackers.
For the cloak of spontaneity,
Is often born of impropriety,
Lest...
A heart withers to form a wisecrack in character.
True to the core.
Once there was a man
Who wrote beautiful music
He wrote the music because he was sad
He was sad because he was all alone
But he was noticed for his music
He ended up being loved for it
And in being loved
He lost his sadness
And his music soon after
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