Spinning.

The sky was once blue

The water was once clean

The rain…well…it didn’t burn

And there was grass, green grass.

I remember a thing called tree,

And wishing the summer days would last.

I remember the outdoor smell

Before the scent of grime.

I remember fish that swam,

Before the layer of oil.

I remember a world of light.

Before the world lost the fight.

Shed a tear

The end is near.

 

 

 

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Is It?

Is it too much to walk on a path of thorns

When the well-travelled road is like industrial porn

Is it wrong to refuse the shoes

When they were bought in endless queues

Is it okay to swim against the tide

Rather than accept they lied

Is it out of style to sing out loud

A different song sung by the crowd

Is it okay to be me

And remain myself and free

Is it wrong to want to be odd

When most worship the golden god

Is it too much for me to want more

Than what is churned out by the media whore

Is it okay to question the status quo

Than to drown while going with the flow.

 

 

 

 

Lean to the Right.

Lean toward the right

just a bit out of sight

feel my gaze search for you

in that shadow that is a bit new

if you lean toward the right

there is a chance I might

see you in that dark place

see the beauty left on your face

put away the fury of the past

step into the light at last

and let me see the you I know

don’t be afraid to finally show

the you that was once full of light

make the move to the right

end the long drawn out chase

accept the warm and tender grace

a shadow will fade away

along with the last of the grey

a smile shall shine through

and I will be with you.

A Tiny Hand

Your tiny hand

held in mine

so small, I still remember…

Walk with me

hand in hand

as I get grey and meager…

My tiny hand

aged and frail

so small, you may remember

No matter how grey

or stooped with age

there is something always familiar…

Your hand hold true

is never grown

It’s just what I remember…

A tiny hand

held tight to mine.

A love that lives forever.

 

 

What ifs…part one.

If there was a way

to open the doors of time

to shuffle across a dusty floor

kicking up the ashes of memory

turn back the lost days

the hurtful ways

all the cuts that scarred

all the things that marred

in that room of time

could i bring myself

to pull back the curtains

let light shine on the dark

and change my life…

 

 

Wake and fail.

In a flurry of unconscious meandering,

Drifting through the known and unknown,

No light to speak of,

No sound to strain to hear,

No awareness of anything,

but the the blank…which is something,

Confused…I swallow,

Hard on pride,

I choke…too loud…

I wake…still here…

I cry,

Only a bit,

As the light peaks through the curtains,

I am awake?

I blink,

Pinch the skin of my arm,

It’s supposed to hurt right?

Too much volume out of sleep,

I miss the blank,

Hit the button on the strange box and drift,

I will try again,

When it isn’t too bright,

and much too loud.