We fight over what we want
At the expense of what we need.
Crippled by whims,
Lashed by whips of greed.

Love, compassion.
Food, water
And shelter
After a fashion.

No Falchion will safeguard our walls
Until we know what they are for.
No cheap parlor tricks , No following a flag
No cheap death, No bugle call.

Rigging taught and water bilged,
Sails snap stubborn in the face
Of Gaia's force.
Sailors gripped in terror forlorn,
Sailing round Tierra del Fuego,
Cape Horn.

Limes are long since rotten
And the *** is watered down,
At least three men overboard
Shot to depths where all will drown.

The captain stands to lose his crown
Cursing into the storm.
Cursing at the ocean wall
And the day that God was born.
Tacking starboard long into the dawn,
He releases rudder and draws his Sword.
As if the world his steel had hindered
He grabs the wheel and turns to windward.

The lessons in school,
They come not in the classroom
But in the playground.

When our love for life is lost,
The joy long since departed
And all around us crumbles
Like the one who is broken hearted.

When our fears are finally found,
So much closer than we thought
We will cling to what we can
Though it is never what we sought.

When we spend our nights in darkness,
And so to with the day,
We must find ourselves a beacon,
A light to guide our way.

I knew it all along,,
The passions fire song,
Has long since been sung.
A turn, another riverrun.
Currents up to speed, A hegemony's
Life force bleeds.
Entropic blades of iron
Coated in gold lions
Of Zion.
And prophets lost yet found.
Reality abounds,
Prophetic or not,
Subjective thoughts
Achieved, not sought.
As time trickles on.
A dream?
Perhaps....
Perhaps not.

Give a parent a website
And they will browse till their heart's content.
Teach them to use Google
And they will never bother you again.

There is a power in words,
That lie in hushed whispers
As much as those roared aloud.
We are prey to the rumor,
To the secret our head is bowed.
We stumble over truths,
Ideals that are never spoken.
Lest the utterance of dreams
Dissolve in the real
And with it all hope is broken.

One day I made a deal with 'The Devil'
I sold my soul for the bass and the treble.
He came from the flames,The original rebel,
We chilled, got blazed, Got ****** like a pebble.

It turns out that he ain't half bad,
He just went and had a fight with his dad.
I think you know we can relate,
When god got ******
And the devil got a fist in the face.

It's quite a feat, walking through the
Graveyard of the Gods.
Buddah takes his time playing majong
Against Thor, his hammer near but at odds,
While Yam keeps ear near conch
Lest the Phoenicians hear his song
And pray his way once more.
They fight over the attention they receive,
A whisper by the heralds
Behind closed doors.
A hint of what may have come before

The brave are always the first to die.
So as it was it came as no surprise
That the last man left on earth alive,
A coward to the core,
Who sold it all, for the twinkle of an eye.
Alone with the wind and tumultuous sky
He looked to the heavens and prayed to die.

Left to pick up all of the broken pieces
Of yet another fallen species,
Adam walked disheveled and defeated.
Picking off the scraps of fallen bones,
Humanity long forgotten and disowned,
Foraging through ashen fields
Where the seeds of death had long been sown.

As thin as a rake,
Vultures followed in wake
As he warred and carved his way.
Through ghostly roads
Derelict towns and abodes
Down past the streets of decay.
And just when he felt he could endure no more
He found himself at an abandoned mall.
The word 'Eden'
Carved upon the wall.

Ravenous in hunger,
Adam slathered and growled
When he stumbled into the reptile house
And saw what he had found.
A snake rich in protein,
Sustenance abound
But Adam was not the only one
In that house to be found.

A scurry,
A shadow,
The faintest of movements in the air,
But yes,
Something stirred,
A woman in rags, teeth bared.

Adam handed her half of his snake
And for a moment all was still.
Till she wolfed it down at the speed of sound
A feat you would never believe,
She looked sharply at Adam
Eyes narrowed and said,
"I'm Eve."

This tree is no evergreen,
Though its roots run as deep
Through emerald soil unseen.
Branches bare witness.
The seasons ebb and flow,
Creaking and curling
While the north wind blows.

Leaves cling for dear life.
Fragile, fading
And yet dancing with light.
They grow and blossom
Only to falter one day.
Crinkled and trodden,
Swept up and blown away.

There's a searchlight in the sky,
Casting watchful
Yet pock marked eye
Upon the weary wanderers
That roam under the light.
Suspect by nature
When you navigate the night.
Guilty by virtue of where you
May retire,
Or not as the case may be.
Under streetlight
I follow foxes.
Or do they follow me?
Among dreams of clocks
And mirrored razor blades
Rusted by the sea.

Once down the old Caledonian road,
There walked a broken man
Who walked all on his own.
Entombed in tattered cloak
Against Decembers cold,
The man fell to pavement
Fell to pavement all alone.

None would descend from
High misguided thrones,
Have a heart and pass the starving
Man a bone.
And not a soul would stop and save him.
Once down the old Caledonian road.

Just because you break
Lines in odd and obscure
Places.
Does not mean you are writing a poem.
No rhythm,
No rhyme,
No structure
Nor Metaphor.
Just a stream of consciousness
With an occasional literary flourish.
Now I am not one to adhere too close to the rules
But shouldn't this all be in one paragraph?

Little boy lost,
Among the valleys
And the fens.
Took shelter under cloak,
The elements to defend.

"Mother!"
"Father!"
He yelled into the air.
"Brother"
"Friends"
But there was nobody there.

The boy marched on into the torrent of the gale,
As tears entwined with rain
Drops.
Whispering forgotten tales.

Alone.

Kind of,

But the wind has a way of bringing the world to life.
As little boy lost shivers in the pale moonlight,
He comes upon a brook from the corner of his sight.
Just enough to make him stop.

Inquire,

"Where just is this stream among the mire?"

No matter where he looked, whether,
Left
                                          or       ­         
                                                                ­                       Right.
The stream remained unbidden,
Forever out of sight...






Forever is never as long as it seems,
When we are but young with youthful dreams.
The little boy no longer as lost as we.
Finds a guide in the sight of that once brook,
Now Stream
Meandering into that river to the sea,
Flowing tidal
Through waves of possibility.

The words don't come as easy anymore,
As if the very act of utterance
Has now become a chore.
Words that once slithered
From my mind and from my tongue,
Seem wrapped in insignificance.
Like the vacuous distance
Twixt our planet and our Sun.

Oh yes,
There are enough faint marks
That we can trace constellations
In the quiet of the dark.
Finding meaning that was never there,
Seduced by mediocrity
With just a pinch of natural flair.

I feel the muse has died,
The last ember of a humble
Fire,
Now fuel deprived.
So I shall trawl through the
Musings of others.
To find a spark and kindle
My lovers.
The spoken and written word,
Perhaps entwined
With a musical accord.

Perchance then? If my ego may be silent
Perhaps I could take pen again
Assault the salient!
Then if determinism agrees
I may once more feel the words
Flow through me like the breeze.
I will ink my conscience once more.
Till my mind is left adrift,
Treading water to
Distant shores.

Angels and Demons
Whispering on your shoulders.
My shoulders lay bare.

There was a blinding light,
Then silence,
Then a hiss.
Air escaping,
Gasping bliss.
Glass shatters,
Shadows play.
A nuke hit the stern,
Evacuate!
No delay.

Days passed,
No one came.
No one heard the message,
No one 'brought the rain'
The solitary escape-ship
Suitable only for one,
Headed forlorn to the next
Inhabited sun.

"Nine thousand, seven hundred light years away"
The computer said in its monotonous way.
"And what of our air,water and fuel?"
"Approximate range is 6.2365r light years,
Will that do?"

"No" he said with a sigh.
Confined to his coffin
Not much to pass the time...

Internal recording 00001// lifeforms:1// life support: 97%
"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."

Internal recording 000012// lifeforms:1// life support: 88%
"It's been a while now just me alone,
No contact friendly, or otherwise
In any nearby zone.
The quadrant is quiet....cold..."

Internal recording 000021// lifeforms:1// life support: 67%
"The stars....They....
They look so peaceful...hehe
What do you say?"
"Was that directed at me?"
Said the ships AI.
"Not you, the ones outside silly!"
"............?..........."

Internal recording 000037// lifeforms:1// life support: 24%
"Row...row...row....
Your...mind......
Gently out to space....
Lonely lonely lonely lone
Life is but a race...."

Internal recording 000042// lifeforms:0// life support: 0%
"..............................."


The farmer heard a roar
And stopped his toil for
A moment,
No more.
He saw the heavens fall
And knelt in prayer and awe.

He hurried to the hole left in his land
Where a voice spoke in a language he didn't understand....

"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."

All nations are born of blood,
Baptized in a font of fire.
The pyre is lit
On what once was.
Heritage fights with progress
Till the fulcrum is met.
As societies digress
From there anointed paths.
The history lasts
Till the last generation dies,
No more tales are told
No more lives are sold,
Now the new nations rise.

The answers we find
Shall never be as grand
As the answers we seek.

The rain may fall hard
But do not close your window.
Open it instead.

The stars are falling
And yet you fail to see,
Playing naughts and crosses
In the sand and shale
By the sea.

Deaf to the thunder,
Stick in hand
You made your move.
Circle in the centre,
reflecting the moon.

Your enemy?
As oblivious as you,
When the dunes had parted
And the rift was in full view.
I knew then
There was nothing we could do.
Each locked in the embrace of
The stalemate that shall ensue.

The maelstrom whipped in and above,
All around our ears
As the salty sea spray was mixed
Among our tears,
Sodden upon forlorn beach below.
Sticks and stones
Forgotten
To the Undertow.

Always pay your debts.
Whether it's money owed or
An apology.

To say someone is weird or different
Is to then claim us all the same.
This is naught but folly at its finest,
One game we all have played.

What is it we do,
When the bottle is empty
And the baggie too?

I picked the suit,
The darkest I could find,
Black jacket and trousers
An even darker tie.

She's not even dead yet but
My wardrobe is prepared.
As the pain gives
Your morphine drips,
Your lips move
Chapped and impaired.

Do I dare to see you like this?
I long to kiss your forehead,
Tell you not to be afraid,
As my own terror rises,
Escapes onto display.

I'm drawn back to times gone by,
Sat on ancient couches
Just a child who cried.
Warm lemonade was the remedy
I believe,
With just a single dollop of ice cream.
I would almost scream in delight
My ailments abandoned,
Vanished by the magician
Only a grandmother can imagine.

But of course it saddens,
So many rose tinted memories
Blurred and yet pristine,
All rolled into the hazy image
We retain within our dreams.
Please don't cry
As I grasp you tight
And the drugs and spotlights
Pull you deep into the night.

I'll hum a tune,
Something soothing
I presume?
See it as rest and not into the gloom,
I know by your god you think
You'll see me soon,
And for once dear grandmother
I wish with all my heart
That it be true.

Much is lost in times of peace
As shepherds shear their flocks for fleece,
As farmers tiller and toil their soil
And kitchens bubble with pots O' boil.
The ways of war are best not forgotten
For sooner or later the barons boot
Shall have trodden,
Upon that farmers land.
Arm in arm and hand in hand
With brigands and brutes In armored hides of tan.

Though the pastures now lay golden
Beholden to the setting sun.
Keep your scabbard close,
Blade keen not blunt.
For far beyond yon neglected walls
The winds are rising,
The ocean's tidal breath
Brings tidings of war.
This time it may devour us all.

They come now robed in mirrors
That are polished to a sheen,
Doused in smoke
And smeared with gasoline.
Each mirrored shard reflecting dreams
Of chances lost and what may have been.
Their own are nowhere to be found,
Veiled and hidden,
Safe and sound.
But,
Pry back those mirrored shards
And beware what you may see,
The forms of  frail men
Disfigured and diseased.
Their minds had long since set them free
From the warring of beasts
And the powers that be.
And,
Yet it holds them fast,
Mind tethered and lashed
As a sail rigged tight
And firm to mast.
At last!
Their mirrors stare back.
With all the veracity of history
The shame, the pride,
Whatever it is they lack.
Whatever it is they say they need.
They say they need,
And so then they believe.
No matter the hypocrisy...

I say they,
Perhaps I mean me.

What is wrong with us?
Maybe the question should be,
What is right with us?

I was thinking...
Potential is nothing
Until it is realised.

The Aces check their sleeves,
Hearts rippling across the breeze.
The Queen arises
Slowly,
Torn dress ripped at the knees.

The Jack saw his fill
And quickly took his leave.
Stood trembling in a doorway,
Mind struggling to believe...

The King was an alcoholic,
It was widely known to be so,
Each eve he would sit solemn,
Wine in hand and sword on show,
Clapping to the Jokers' japes
As he danced and sang
About love and fate.
But how was the King to know?
Not two rooms away
His wife had lain,
With a smile and a *****.
Creating a cuckold and a fool...

The Jack had had enough
And promptly marched
To the throne room.
Armed with only knowledge,
Unleashes inevitable typhoon.

The winds will rise,
This house shall succumb,
Imploding inwards
Till the house is done.
And all that remains
Among ash and decay,
Broken hearts and broken spades,
Is the Jokers last laugh.
A mockingbirds call as daylight fades.

We are mules,
Moving matter here and there,
While men in suits and pristine
Combed hair,
Wax shined shoes
And a plastic smile,
Say  "no, not here, there!"
Followed by some monotonous management bile:

"Yeah Ted, great squash game
Your blue sky thinking will pave the way!
Yeah bye..."

"Christ, that guys lame"

The office applauds and cements his fame,
While the mules keep ambling on,
Moving matter that doesn't matter
Until the last days light has shone.

Seven deadly sins, they say,
Those vicious voluptuous ways
We shall all share and spend our days
When the devil is at our door.
For I am guilty of six,
Perhaps more.
And if I plead as guilty
Than I wonder what you say?
"Oh none" said ever so sweetly
In the glowing piety of the day.
But what would we mutter
As the shadows come to play?
And light is but a memory
A silhouette in dark decay.

Would we lust for the last
Vestibules of light?
Would our greed lead us toward
Rage and pride?
Would we fight to the end
For that last bastion of light?
Treading over fallen fables,
All to escape the night?

If life is a ride
Then I wish for it to cease,
Just for a moment
Let its chains release.
Let all of its highs,
And all of its lows
Roll solemnly off the breeze.

If life is a game
Then show me my red card.
The training never helped,
The fight was much too hard

If life is a race,
Then let me fall behind
As the dust from all their feet
Creates a storm and casts me blind.

If life is to be conscious
Then confine me unto sleep.
Mind locked in the tallest tower
Forever out of reach.

If life is to be loved
And to love again in turn.
Then rip this failing *****
From my chest and let it burn.
For these are some life lessons,
Those lessons hardest to learn.

A light in the dark
Shadow of your former self.
Red iron rusting.

"Connect your charger"
My phone commands, I obey.
The power was off.

Turn the other cheek!
I did though my pride was stung,
Then you struck again.

We shall sit upon our throne
In all its debauched desire.
Tapping beats upon the arm
Inwrought with gold and iron.

The court may sway
Curtains draped askew.
The courtiers façade
Shall fade anew.
Those lips that spewed
Sweet suckled honey dew
Shall slather and harden
As truth comes to view.

It comes not in words
Or sweet music to our ears
But rings from steel,
Sharpened by our fears.