April 27, 2016

The shadow crawls
The shadow moves
Across the hall
The shadow seems
So innocent
The shadow plays
With your mind
Suddenly dark
And not on time
Slipping back
To the dark days
Forgetting about
Better ways


December 20, 2015

I’m at a loss
For what to do
My heart has grown
So fond of you
It hurts to feel
So unsure
Of what is right
And what is pure
But that’s the pain
Of being lost
Hurting bad
Mind in frost
Never clear
Like great blue skies
Just cold and foggy
And paralysed


August 8, 2015

I miss you
It’s been a year
Since we spoke
It all seems
Like a cruel joke
I’ll never great
Your voice again
The tears that brings
Are filled with pain
You loved me more
Than anyone could
You were so thoughtful
And understood
I’ll miss you
Til the day I die
I’ll never really
Say goodbye


July 22, 2015

Won’t equate
I miss you
It’s true
Pain is real
You must feel
Lost my path
Felt wrath
Mourned more
I’m sore
Too much pain
All in vain


July 9, 2015

Pain burning deeply
Felt far within my body
Not sure what to do


June 24, 2015

One more time.
One more loss.
One more time.
One more loss.
One more time.
One more loss.
When will I get the point?

The Deep South

June 23, 2015

The dim lights
Illuminated the dank
Run down watering hole
Located in the heart
Of the deep south
Sitting with his worn heels
Propped right up
On the old brass rail
Long tarnished
By years of neglect
Sat the bar stool prophet
Sipping a plain brown bottle
Of some three percent poison
Pondering possible purpose
Never forgetting the issues he’d seen.
“This South Carolina business
Is no different than it’s ever been
The south still thinks the red flag
Is a symbol of pride and power
Not of problems and persecutions.
Until the people down here stop
Thinking they won the revolution
And start realising we need to accept people
As just that,
They will never really change.
The community of good, noble, southerners
Who really believe in helping their neighbour
Regardless of race, religion, or really anything
Will remain a staunch minority
Until we start educating our children
And our children’s children
How to be tolerant and accepting.
Until that happens,
The south will stay the south
And the hate will still boil over.
But what do I know,
I’m just another wanderer
Sipping my brown bottle
And blowing my steam”