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
Labour of love
Sow your seeds in silence
Diligently digging, deep down in dirt
Without expectation
Without bated breath
May beauty grow with patience
Lest haste be met with death
You can’t
You can’t stop a fire burning
You can’t stop the tide from turning
You can’t stop the yearning for change
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
