Yellow Brick Road

It may seem like much to behold…
If I had my way I would find myself home,
Back to the days of old,
When time was by my side, each season my bosom friend
And we never made hay within the constraints,
As despite the rain, the sunny days never did come to an end

Yet in hindsight, I suppose,
I’m at a stage, coming of age
Where I’m probably better off
Should my memory fail or this lifelong show is curtailed to a close,
When I’m older than I’ve ever been, younger than I’ll ever be from this point on…
And so I wade on, through the murky waters that define the path I chose

I remember when I sallied forth,
With the pennies that I took the time to hoard
And dawning ambitions, impossible to relinquish, in tow,
Embracing the pursuit of what is, at best, concealed by the morning mist
I left the comforts I enjoyed and the certainties I had so grown fond of…
A Wizard of Own; if I find nowt, I shall be tested, discover myself at the very least.

Advertisements

Will This Be A Problem: The Anthology #2

will this be a problem?

Small

Will This Be A Problem: The Anthology Issue # 2 is out now. All new poems & short stories.

READ ONLINE HERE

EBOOK DOWNLOADS

Epub (iPad, Andorid, General apps)

Kindle Reader & Kindle Apps

PDF

NB: If you are reading on an android device I would suggest avoiding Aldiko Reader.  For some reason the ebook doesn’t render very well on it. It worked well on every other reader I tried though

Small back new

View original post

Free will

The illusion of free will

Sold to you as a promise of change.

 

But beneath the veil, the ageing recycled,

Octogenarians the puppeteers

Ties too strong, binding, too strong to sever

And those professing youth dangling off their strings,

To whose tune they dance vigorously when strum

 

But hands remain too limp to effect

Choreographed speeches laid out merely to lure

Beneath which lie the lies that obscure

And guide to a pre-determined choice

All are pawns behind whom one is king

 

Only through democracy can this tyranny be conquered

Exercise your right to vote.

Broken

This time round it will be different, I said, as I hoped,
Latched onto your kisses, floating away on wings as gentle as butterflies’
Sad how it always ends like this, I love the starts much better, though
Had we been honest, we’d have stood to lose everything but the truth

Latched onto your kisses, floating away on wings as gentle as butterflies’
As I lust for your heart to grow more open, and eyes more closed to all else
Had we been honest, we’d have stood to lose everything but the truth
It seems like there’s more for me, a fool, but it’s merely a disguise concealing the lies

As I lust for your heart to grow more open, and eyes more closed to all else
My mind strays, wanders, and consumes, in breadth and depth, the emptiness
It seems like there’s more for me, a fool, but it’s merely a disguise concealing the lies
Resident in the soft whispers, endemic to every other promise

My mind strays, wanders and consumes, in breadth and depth, the emptiness
Void of what it deserves, yet what haunts me is very much present,
Resident in the soft whispers, endemic to every other promise
This time round it will be different, I said, as I hoped.

A Soul Immersed Truly

A smile as jolly as a soul immersed truly
In a deliberate monotony of him,
His words the Psalms, hymn to her mass

Yet it is the same adoration
A devotion that excarnated her very being,
Excavated, taking advantage fully keen
To amass the favours that she has to offer,
Plundered, the coffers of her emotion
Now somewhat a derelict mine

If only had she brushed aside her reservations, oh so exclusive
Distinct, the instinct at the moment,
With the desire to amass a love that now could have been a mirage, fleeting

A cacophony of lust, lure and love previously oh so elusive, enslaved her
Oh not me, he said, to be a cause of any future pain
Ready to yank her soul out from its confines
The loss is the only way out,
At the sermon, staring at his face, over the open casket
A smile as melancholy as a soul immersed truly
Friends and acquaintances concur, she really loved him

Song of the Day

First ray, a loving smile to the world
That lights up my wall, pierces through the blinds
The achievements of yesterday equate to a bar heightened for today
A new day nonetheless, and opportunities await

Propped up, staring at the bedside table
The lamp, my Bible, the ashtray and the crooked fag
A fire ablaze in my mind, it keeps me warm as it burns all despair
Into the ashes out of which new ambition arises

Maybe it’s the music,
Or the voices that soothe my spirit
But it sounds like a song, so I hum along, I hum
I’m ready, as the world beckons, ready to dance to my tune

Epiphany

No sadder, these tears

Whose bitter taste still lingers in my tongue,

A tingle, oh sweet not

The tingle that comes when the pain is yet to depart

I am but a shell of what was me

When you were a part of all I was, etching out all I thought I could be

A sculpture, for you, that soon bore not even a fleeting resemblance to who I am

A realisation, for me, of a contrast so sharp, piercing, like a ray through the dark

With the difference so stark, I was not even a piece to that puzzle

I am the definition of me

The tingle that stays on when the pain is long gone

A tingle, oh so sweet

Whose distinct flavour I savour and continually long for,

No happier, this smile…