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.

 

 

 

 

Backward.

I like to walk backwards through a life less told,

Through rooms that have cobwebs from being so old.

I look over shoulders at days left forgot,

I shake my head slowly at memories for not.

I say good-bye to people easier than most,

Remembering them as you would a ghost.

Some say I have demons that hide in the dark,

I think I show them with an impersonal mark.

I have never been true to people or me,

I prefer to never let anyone see.

The masks I wear I hang in my mind,

Always at hand and easy to find.

For a time I was free and able to share,

Like a child acting out on a dare.

But as dares go they tend to hurt,

And leave you face down in the dirt.

So I walk backwards locking some doors,

Left to die on forgotten shores.

 

Everyone Else.

To a whisper I say hello

To a wind I say follow

To a storm I say hold

To a wall I say break

To a word I say repeat

To a child I say live

To the old I say give

To a friend I give love

To an enemy I give a hug

To the lost I give the way

To the night I give the day

To myself I say…

To myself I give…

nothing.

a man…once

Once upon a time

It is written in this rhyme

a man had more to be

though never did I see

Once upon a time

a man becomes a friend

no secrets in the end

just road that curved to bend

Once upon a time

the man became much more

a child opened that door

and a heart took wing to soar

Once upon a time

as its written in this rhyme

I sit on ages throne

a mile not lost or alone

 

 

A whisper, A tear…

And I heard it as a whisper,

Rustled in the leaves,

A tear that came from nothing,

A moment in the breeze.

I felt the warming light,

Lost within the leaves,

Like spots of molten gold,

A shadowed golden weave.

And what did I hear in that whisper,

I barely made out the words,

I strained to listen closely,

To be sure of what i heard.

The tree was being thoughtful,

Reflecting on its years,

It saw the world in silence,

And that’s what made the tears.

For a tree does not know violence,

It doesn’t know how to hurt,

it lives beneath the sunlight,

It eats moisture from the dirt.

So when it sees the sadness,

Caused by those that hate,

All it can do is whisper,

And hope to change man’s fate.

 

 

 

Simple, Love.

Did you wonder how I flew,

Across the sky to be with you,

Did you wonder why I stay,

Between the Sunshine and the grey,

Have you thought about our fate,

As we forget all hints of hate.

Have thought about our smiles,

That never fades even with the miles,

It’s simple to see why we are,

whether close, whether far,

It is love simple and true,

What made me fly straight to you.