Origins

I was born in '86
The product of a mod (and an infinitely cooler) punk
Born twixt two sub genres
As I grew
I never really had to choose 
Between an anarchistic ideology or the modernist scooter working class ethos
See the thing is 
I've my Daddy's features 
But my substance is my Mama's soul
Those same blue grey eyes of hers
She always had this look
That, with a mere glance
You could tell 
If all was well, or your plan was doomed to fail
From birth I have heard ''you are your Dad's twin " 
But the truth is, in my heart, in my soul
I'm my mothers girl
It's through her courage
Her strength
That I carry myself in this world

Mother

I was born in 86
The product of a mod and a (much cooler) punk
Born twixt two sub genres
As I grew
I never really had to choose
Between anarchy and a (though a more stylish option) one of the two
See the thing is
I’ve got my Daddy’s eyes
But I’m a carbon copy of my Mama’s soul
The middle ground she never took
Those same blue grey eyes I have
She always had this look
That would
In a meagre glance, tell
If you were cool, or doomed to fail
All this life I have heard
You’re your Dad’s twin on this thing we call Earth
But the truth is, in my heart, in my soul, I’m my mothers girl
And it’s through her courage, her strength
That I’m the ruler of my world

Hold steady

Persistence and a positive attitude will carry you through 
Even when dawn seems so far away 
The newly born day will always come  
If you can just hold on 
Wait for the light 
Hold steady 
It can't always be night 

Only You

I went to the country

Looked up at the skies

At all of those stars

They seemed to burn so bright

I thought only of you

Felt the pulling, this yearning deep inside

Knowing instantly 

It was you

Only ever you

Always you

Nothing before 

Nothing after 

Nothing in the inbetween 

Only you

All I ever knew

Was all that ever mattered 

Searching for meaning

When meaning was home 

I should have just trusted 

All I had ever known 

 

untitled

Well, the world has taken all I have
So there’s literally nothing left
She’s bleeding me dry
I’m cast aside, left bereft
But yet I keep laughing
Tell me, in earnest
What is the joke?
I’m penniless, soon to be homeless
No magic genie to solve my situation, can I evoke
But I’m loved and I’m thought of
So for much more I can’t ask
These things we are “losing” are just material
And there’s nothing that, forever, lasts.

Conditional. Conditioned.

Freedom (supposed) in all things
The crux of what is truly wanted
The nature of this human desire
to look away from that….from them….which cause discomfort
Lock up truth in tall towers

Though this freedom be the desire
There’s much to be said
For the futility of imprisoning those
Already locked inside their own heads

Hidden society

Wine them, dine them
A well dressed table
Hides a multitude of sins
Dry your tears on the corner of the tablecloth
Whilst the wine causes their gaze to swim
Keep your grimace of a smile, plastered on
Until the last taxi pulls away
You are always the hostess
You always win

Polite society.

This undercurrent of vague niceties
That aren’t so vague
Those platitudes of the ilk of “we’re fine”
“Everything is ok”
Scream-whisper of hidden, heavy meaning
While their glassy eyed smiles, though wide
Split at the sides
And you know “things” are anything but ok
Yet evermore, the court of common courtesy holds sway
We continue, on and on
Bursting at the seams of polite society
With each passing day