Halfway There

When I was only seventeen,
And young enough to hope and dream.
I saw the diamonds in the sky.
I told myself that I could fly.
I reached out to the promised land,
With open heart, and empty hand.
Believing in the Seventh Way,
I passed beyond the judgement day.
And looking back, it sickens me,
To think of what I tried to be.
Just when the answer seems so clear,
The view is hidden by a tear.
The tear which stains the glass of life.
Within which death can cut the knife.
If I return to peace of mind,
If I could ever be so blind.
Pass time in a tranquil state.
Without the need to love or hate.
If I could rediscover this,
Returning to a perfect bliss.
But truth has made it's ugly mark.
My mind is plunged in solemn dark.
Memories flicker, start to fade.
The price of truth is fully paid.

The Dark Secret

It makes me sad to see the flames,
That burn up little children's games.
Their silent pity stumbles round.
Their hopes lie scattered on the ground.

The simple world the children see,
Can echo back the past to me.
But now they hide their thoughts away,
As night entombs the light of day.

The feelings falter through my mind.
As though the meanings cannot find,
A place to recreate the dream,
Of things that might, and should, have been.

The wasted life of which we know,
Cannot sustain, it has to go.
But if we heed the warning cries,
We see the way the youngest dies.

Our values bend and sway likes trees,
As hopelessness provokes the breeze.
And all around, the victims stare.
And you pretend you were not there.

But I know you, the things you've said.
The thoughts that thunder through your head.
Soon your world will shed a tear,
And children will unleash your fear.

Apricot Wine

Faltering on silent stars,
That whisper like shadows in the night.
Weaving your way through time.
Leaving a trace of your presence, that we might
Believe in our fears.
To strengthen our views, as we did in the past.
And find with dismay,
That our hopes and our dreams couldn't last.
You sit here and laugh,
And you tell us strange stories of old.
Stirring our visions,
Of freedom to do as we're told.
In the blink of eye,
You destroy all we have, and our trust
Is broken and left
To die, in the road, as it must.

The End

Folding his arms to the mellow sun,
The old man gave a sigh.
And through his mind now flowed the thought,
That life had passed him by.
The dying sun across the sky,
Had crawled its weary way.
And now the time had just begun.
To face the final day.
He was the last, and all alone,
He sits and wonders why.
The breeze upon his weathered face,
His gaze fixed way up high.
His choice was clear, he would remain.
To sit and stare this way.
He could have joined the multitudes,
But felt the need to stay.
And now he knows the end will come,
He sits and waits to die.
And all the answers seem so clear.
His mind at last can fly.

Turning Point

Folding away his head,
On a Sunday afternoon.
In his deckchair world of silence,
He has found himself immune.

Shutting out frustration,
From his water-tight cocoon.
In his shell of dried emotion,
In this baking heat of June.

The fortress creaks, his mind implodes.
The sun forgets to shine.
In twilight haze, his scattered thoughts
Begin to intertwine.

While lesser men, as he himself
Would like us all to know,
Have given up their brainwashed lives.
Now his begins to grow.

Love

Love is a frail, broken creature.
A thing to be cared for,
But pitied.
Never think to nurse
This poor broken thing
To health.
For it will surely die.
Forever must it stay,
Fragile and in pain.
For this is the way
Of all true love.

Release

People came from miles around, to see
The hanging in the rain.
Rows of faces motionless.
Filled with bitterness and pain.
The sky is grey and overcast,
And through the dark and gloom.
A sense of overwhelming doubt,
Despondency and doom.
And so the haggard faces stare,
From hollow sunken eyes.
The softened sound reverberates,
Of many mournful sighs.
Then came silence, as the volunteers
Were each led to a noose.
Until ten thousand bodies lay,
They're necks all limp and loose.
The crowd, fulfilled turned away
And trudged their way back home.
Unburdened souls for just a while,
Their spirits free to roam.

Creature within

If I could wish upon the light
That falls within your grace at night.
I'd find you staring softly through
Those fields of wheat and pastures new.
I couldn't find a way that's clear,
The way that sheds each passing tear.
Like wind brushed snow in winter's bright
But cold and sterile moonlit night.
Shadows chase the dancing feet,
As children flit on down the street.
The sadness grows, entombs my heart,
As I begin to play the part.
The role from which there's no escape.
The children stop, the children gape.
I feel their pain, it feels so good.
And now the snow is laced with blood.

Home

Last updated: 27 Dec 2001 11:43