Onslaught

Psychological dependence sows only decaying seeds of progress

Disturbing developments
Deluge of thoughts
Immobilize
Efforts
To formulate
Regulate

Forces
Bedded in fear
And hope
Rear up
Stifling
Progress

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Year’s end

Grey, nebulous clouds
Frozen by early winter’s breath
Move lazily through pale blue shivering skies
The shortest day approaches
Soon to pass
Before the days of Christmas
Fill the glass

 

“Peace on Earth!” I hear the cries.
“Good will to all!” And then the sighs
as hopes for better things to come
rise up inside each dad and mum,
and eyes of older generation
look inside in contemplation.
Small ones play as only they
can, conscious not of words that pray.

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Bad company

A life of wrong decisions
Of strangers all around
Feet that once rose so long ago
And never came to ground

A life spent with illusions
Of dangers all around
Thoughts born of hope so long ago
A safe home never found

A life of work and searching
For answers all around
To questions forged so long ago
That when cast just rebound

A life spent chasing phantoms
Those prancers all around
Who mesmerized so long ago
But can no more astound

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Seasonal whims

Late September, summer hesitates
As autumn freshness brings both dew and mist
To longer nights,
And in the afternoon is warmth to swoon
That turns back time with memories of June.

Oh time, you marching, so untiring host,
Do you hold no regard for one as I,
Who watches as the clock’s about to chime,
And hopes the minute hand will slow its climb?

What will the autumn bring to those who hope
That better times wait just around the door?
No one can tell, I fear, for no one knows.
In human mad affairs, that’s how it goes.

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Apprehension

Do my prayers all get diverted
to that region down below,
heard by those with tails and eyes red
gloating ever midst the glow?

Is up there the door closed to me?
Messages no more received –
if they ever were, I must say.
Have I truly been deceived?

Faith one must retain, they tell me,
to secure a better life
filled with joyousness and laughter
at the end of hope and strife.

Hypocrites most seem to be now,
those who others must condemn
to feel free for just a moment
from desires that eat at them.

All around there is confusion.
Help still seems so far away.
Will HE, if HE comes, be met by
only goats on judgement day?

As you see, I dare to question
though I feel then so alone
when the doubts return to haunt me
stronger than truths that have flown.

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Protected species

The invisible prison walls are materialising

Safe in that prison behind locks and bars
Enjoying the freedom, no more threats or scars
The warder protects me from life’s so cruel ways
As long as I’m willing to do as he says

Grey walls and windows high let in pale light
Dreams of the sun and moon come in the night
Memories of yesterdays hope no more bring
Feelings that filled my heart no more do cling

Happy to be alive though now alone
No use to dwell on doubts, no use to moan
“Things could be worse” is the thought that provides
Some peace of mind to the one who still hides

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Dust Bowl

February, cold and gray
As is the news
Of pointing fingers
Guilty thoughts
Seeping intrigue
Weeping hearts
Empires crumbling
People stumbling
Rocks and rubble
Nought for trouble
Hope in vain
Striving pain
Enough of rhyming
Hitting words
Stir the ice
Thawing slowly
Apathy

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Countdown

Oh, Old Year what a time we’ve had.
The hope for better things to come,
that there might be an end to fear
and joy would spring from every tear.

Oh, Old Year thanks for moments dear
that brought light to the darkest days.
Now as you fade, soon to depart,
a certain sadness fills my heart.

Oh, Old Year will you leave us now
for one so young, as yet unknown,
that may, in passing, bring us peace
or more injustice n’er to cease.

Hah! New Year’s peeping round the Old;
I see his wide and gentle eyes.
We’ll meet tomorrow face to face
and follow time’s unruly pace.

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What’s new?

The sun is always rising somewhere on Earth

Image courtesy Francesco Marino

Nothing significant to report
The same old boring news
Death and destruction
Feeble minds
And lots getting their dues

Nothing significant to report
As Nature rushes by
Waves of expectance
Pushed aside
No ears to hear them cry

Nothing significant to report
As laughter rings in halls
Fantasy staging
To forget
A silence that appals

Nothing significant to report
As cracks form everywhere
Daylight to daylight
Space unfolds
Revealing man’s despair

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Elusive love

Photo courtesy djcodrin

Is love a word and nothing more,
something to send via semaphore?
I ask, ‘Why must I be denied?’
A heart left in the cold outside.

One voice within the multitude
that yearns to end its solitude
another ever-searching soul
sharing what seems a simple goal.

I pray to gods in still of night
that I might see that telling light
within the eyes of one who’ll bare
those feelings deep, the will to care.

Hope lingers that he’ll come my way
the one I’m thinking of today.
I see a face before my eyes
the mask that hides his true disguise.

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Terminal

Cumbersome baggage
Carried so long
Hates, fears and rapture
Lyrics and song
Words thrown in anger
Soft falling care
Sunlight and moonbeams
Shadows that dare
Sadness and longing
Tears in the night
Bright sudden laughter
Hope can ignite
Worlds ever waiting
Dreams hold below
Footsteps receding
Heard in the glow.

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Rodent residential

In a cold empty room
lives a mouse called Jerome
at the top of the stairs
in a place he calls home.

And he often feels sad
when he’s nothing to do
sitting thinking of her
of the one who’d be true.

Still he hopes, eyes alert
while he’s seeking for food
lower down where the smells
help him out of his mood.

He has searched everywhere
that was safe to explore
but no scent has he caught
of Miss Mousy Galore.

She might suddenly come
through the crack in the wall
the gap under the door.
He might just hear her call.

How his little heart beats
when he sees in his dreams
those bright eyes full of love
and her soft coat that gleams.

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Eagle’s lair

Photo courtesy Mayalilie

Oh wondrous creature, hearts delight,
take my yearnings now in your talons strong.
Fly, fly winged warrior into those heights unknown
o’er mountain peaks, and sunken valleys wide,
snow-specked green, leaving all sighs behind.
Sever the ties of an ever aging hope.
Free these eyes made frail by a ceaseless mind
casting occulting shadows on the face of truth.
Let there where silence reigns peace come at last
so I may rejoin that which knows no past.

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Quarter to ten

Photo courtesy Matt Banks

The church bells say it’s time to rise
and enter walls of cold gray stone
to sit in whispered stain glass glow
with thoughts for which we must atone.

I look round at the gathered few.
Smiles mixed with sternness gaze my way.
Just muffled talk and coughs disturb
a reverence the leads to pray.

The organ wails and as all stand
the one appears to whom we clasp
with faith that now the words will come
to free us from old Satan’s grasp.

And having listened, urged and sung
we shuffle once more to the door
into the warmth of springtime sun
and back into that world once more.

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Rising damp

Picture partly thanks to Dr Joseph Valks

 

I’ve written a lot on injustice
but still it’s increasing each day,
no sign of the change that some hope for,
the message for which many pray.

The mountain of lies is still growing;
the truth buried somewhere beneath.
The few, grin at those who are groping,
and fear no more to show their teeth.

It seems that a miracle’s needed,
a big one to light up the sky
with letters built up out of rainbows
saying something like “This is goodbye”

Where angels descend with hair flaming
and devils rise up from their lair.
Another fight in the arena
while all we can do is just stare.

When minds are purged it will be over.
No more will a fist meet a face.
No more will a boot find you kneeling.
No more will to fail bring disgrace.

I long for a fresh start for mankind;
farewell to hate and all that jazz.
I trust you’re not one who’s just laughing
at this one man’s razzamatazz.

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Escape from hope

It’s rising up to heaven
or falling down in sin:
the one true firm believer
no longer held by skin.

Its former expectations
will now be put to test,
no one to know its future
or one to be impressed.

To speculate is fruitless.
Thoughts are of yesterday.
Religion’s of tomorrow
when we at last must pay.

Hope is the only doorway,
forever locked in life,
the gateway for immortals
who never know of strife.

That matter of creation
contains our troubled minds,
the memories of daydreams,
ideas of different kinds.

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Empire of the Sun

It’s emerging from that place,
dimensions moved from home.
Rising? Falling? Who’s to know
in that pleasure dome?

Empires: Persian, Roman, Greek,
the many wilted, gone.
Blood flows on of promise strained
that they will be one.

Eyes of fear peer to the sky;
bones rattle down below.
Stilled the last cries of those who
were too wise to know.

Hope the bandage for their wounds
or sword for might that fades.
Futures lost in emptiness
aging thought pervades.

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The enemy within

If I could make a wish come true
then I would now be there with you
to stand together hand in hand
before what could have been so grand:

a future different from the one
I’m living where all hope has gone,
where only dreams of yesterday
can bring a weakened smile to play

upon these lips that still recall
the touch and wonder of it all.
Somewhere in frozen time I see
that moment when thought lead the free

and hesitation born of fear
merged words of doubt with those sincere
until what seemed no force could shake
began to tremble and then break.

If I could make a wish come true
then I would now be there with you.

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Year of truth

To those who celebrate New Year
one wish must be to end the fear,
uncertainty, and worldly woes;
to hear more from those who oppose
injustice in whatever guise
that in the face of kinship flies.

Look into eyes that try to read
in yours the trust that they might need
and smile then with your inner light
to show your willingness to fight
to preserve values on the wane
that some look down on with disdain.

These thoughts I share with you out there.
As fellow humans we must care
enough to make a difference now
and so I hope that you will vow
with me to further liberty,
bring truth to those who do not see.

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Belief

Inspired by a scientific analysis of the Bible’s Old Testament message.
(The helix refers to the Earth’s true orbit through space)

An ancient text not understood
just symbols to an alien mind
that dredges thoughts from rivers deep
to paint worlds of a different kind.

Myths, legends, show a truth disguised
from those to whom the written word
emerged from Nature’s wondrous hand
and voice that beckoned to be heard.

Three thousand turns the helix makes
as on they speed to journey’s end
those motes searching for paradise
that’s waiting always round the bend.

Perhaps one day when hope’s denied
these revelations will be clear
and man will see with opened eyes
what lies behind the web of fear.

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