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
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
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
.
There’s a little of you left in me.
It never went away.
It hid behind blood and bone.
digging deeper until
In my very essence
It found a home
How can something so small swallow up so much of a life?
Poem No. 39
He’s the quiet voice
That I need
But can’t always hear
Yet when my being is heavy
He lifts up my burdens
Helps lighten my load
Deep in my heart I feel Him
Deep in my being
He’s always near
When I’m cast adrift by the cruel acts of man
He’s always there to take my hand
To soothe my soul
Quieten my inner turmoil
Others may mock
Make jest, make light of the solemnity of Faith
But my saviour; Our Lord
Him, above all others
Will I never forsake
You have carried me through the deep
Through the darkest nights
My love upon high
My guiding light
Isolated
The world has been forced to take stock
While chaos forces us to remain locked…
Inside.
The freedom of man has been contained
We want to rise
Break free
From our boxes of inhabitation
But can’t, for fear
Of the fall of civilisation
The light
In the darkness, they found me
Though I uttered not a sound
I am the light that binds love to soul
That seeks out sinners to absolve
Suffer unto me the darkness in your being
I will take it into my heart
Light will fill your world once more
As if bearing witness to mans first dawn
A simple promise is all I ask
That you try, every day
To keep a little of this light to light the way
To light the path to righteousness
This is all I ask of you
21 jan 20
None of us choose
Choose to take that first breath
That yell that hails your entrance into this world
In the words of Billy Idol, with that rebel yell
will you cry “more, more, MORE”?
Is your voice
A war cry
Or just…
A mere sob?
What else can you do
but scream
Scream for the world to notice you?
