Red-taped message.

Why do you care,
How I live my life?
Keeping your tabs,
On who lives and dies.

The records show,
The numbers are clear.
In the mind of the people,
All that's left is fear.

Why do you care,
How many drinks I drink?
Feeding my brain,
Telling me what to think.

Stay in your temples,
With your holy idols.
Don't tell me what I do,
Is wrong by your morals.

Who are you to say,
The world is going wrong?
Does everyone have to sing,
The same damn song?

We don't need you,
To show us the way.
No need to tell us,
What to think and what to say.

We're better off,
With a lack of your kind.
We can put our troubles,
To the back of our minds.

With you gone,
There's a chance for peace.
A chance for silence,
A hope for relief.

So leave us now,
And take your pawns with you.
Your day has come,
At dawn we're through.

We're finally better off,
With peace in our minds,
The problem you are,
Will be the last of your kind.

I Miss You

Last night I had a dream of her,
It was the one thing that made it better.
I hated the morning bird and it's call,
Now I wish I hadn't dreamt it at all.

I can almost feel her nicotine kiss,
I can almost feel our bodies meld.
It's been a while since I got my fix,
I'm wishing soon we will be well.

I miss the scent of us making love,
I miss the hint of gin on her breath.
I hope that soon I'll hold my love,
And I wont let go until the end.

I can feel your eyes on my skin,
I can feel your smooth hair in my hand.
I can feel a pain deep within,
And I know no one will understand.

So let me lie and just dream of her,
Think of a day when I'll be with her.
One of these days we'll cross the miles,
And we will live it out, together.

Wall Street Hooligans

I see your white collar,
Under piles of red tape.
Getting away with murder,
Loot, theft and rape.
You’re unflappable,
Incorrigible,
You’re The Man.

You bought the world,
And now that it’s been sold.
You’ve got time on your hands,
To get a shiny new soul.
Sooner or later,
You’ll think you’re finally whole.
But that’s impossible,
Coz you’re The Man.

You have friends in high places,
Dark hearts and smiling faces.
You bet your money,
On high-stake rat races.
But sooner or later,
The cards will crash down.
You’ll still rise again,
Coz you’re The Man.

You’ll find a pretty dame,
Who will give you fake love.
She likes the size of your wallet,
It fits her like a glove.
One of these days,
Your wife will find out.
But it doesn’t matter,
Coz you’re The Man.

You feel you’re quite immune,
Safely on the wheels of good fortune.
Soon you’ll sing a different tune,
When we take it all back.

You’ll see when you fall down,
As we crush your plastic crown.
You’ll walk all the way round,
In feathers and tar.
You’re not invincible,
Not untouchable.
You’re just a man.

Thumbing my way.

"Life is a journey."

We keep hearing that phrase but we never really give it much of a thought. I mean we wonder about it, but have you ever really considered how literal that phrase is?

Life is essentially a constant journey from point A to point B. Now, I'm not getting metaphorical or philosophical, I'm getting geographical. We are, in this life, constantly looking at two things; where we've been and where we're headed. Life is the constant act of changing our location and wondering about where it's going to change to.

Every morning we wake up and we think about how we're gonna go to the next room, the bathroom, the kitchen and eventually out of home to the parking, then the bike, then the road and finally office. Within an hour we calculated so many changes in our location and actually acted upon them. The journey of a morning.

But that's not enough for us. When we've finished this little journey we still wonder, at times, about how it could have been a better one. Could I have cut some time at some point in the morning? Maybe I should have gone to the ATM first and then the cigarette store. We're constantly worrying not just about how to get the the next location, but also how we got to the current location. Why don't we ever stop?

Take a moment here and think. Where are you? Not in the 'answer to life' kind of way, simply in the 'Holy shit, I'm in office in front of my PC writing stuff' kind of way. There isn't a deep message here at all, it's just a moment of introspection. Take a moment to realise you are 1 person out of 6 billion. On one planet out of 8. In one solar system out of potentially 100 billion. In one galaxy out of potentially 1 trillion. You are... no, We are, enormously insignificant.

Everything that we are doing on a daily basis, this so called journey, is immaterial. So then, what is the point of it all? I guess we have to do the best we can, we enjoy it! So stop thinking about where you've been and where you're going or all the places you wish you had been to and all the places you plan on going to. Just take a breath, stand in a spot and wonder; Where are all the roses you were supposed to stop and smell?

Writer's Blocked

Tuesday, May 03, 2011, 9:14 pm

It's been a while my old friend. You, my words, that used to be my one vent. I don't even remember the last time I wrote for the sake of writing, the act of writing for myself and not a purpose. These days that's all I seem to do, write for someone or to achieve something. My writing has turned into the means to an end and along the path of adapting myself I seem to be losing something far more important, my ability to write.

There was a time when I could sit down for a few minutes and polish off a page full of words that left me happy, left me satisfied. I haven't felt that in a long long time, the simple feeling of being happy with what I've written. Even right now I can feel some change come over. Like these little darkening pixels are taking a little bit of darkness away from me. My writing is my therapy. It is the one thing that stuck by me and stuck with me, helping me through the worst of times and keeping me up through the best of them.

These days I doubt the simplest thing. Can I write? Of course, not in the literal sense of it, I'm writing right now. I mean in the deeper sense of it. I remember writing things that made people wonder, I have vague recollections of people lauding and applauding me for a string of words. Where has all that gone? It's not like I've forgotten the words, I still use the same everyday. Have I lost my craft? That's it isn't it. But, I wouldn't use the term 'lost', maybe just 'misplaced'. Or have I become cynical, demotivated or just plain dumb? I refuse to believe that I have. I know somewhere, under a lot of filth and dust, lies that brilliant writer that I thought I was. I just have to dig him out and make him stand on his own two feet again. I have to pick him up and get him crafting again.

And maybe, the answer is showing itself. It's these words. The words I thought I'd lost, the thoughts that I fear had wandered away from me, these are what will bring me back. I need, I must keep writing. I must keep pouring my heart out on a blank white sheet and watching it fill up with the colour of my anguish. As black as ink, now I realise the weight of the term.

Burning Bridges

The echoes of a silent night,
Birds that sing and a rising light.

The memory of a perfect time,
The friend for you and you were mine.

Days that passed in lighter veins,
Merrier times and easier ways.

A friend I had so long ago,
Would change so soon, I'd never know.

I missed the telling signs,
That showed themselves everytime.
I should have known what would be,
How soon it would pass to memory.

A broken bond,
That seemed so strong.
Lost and gone,
So long, so long.

Self Appraisal.

Look at me,

I'm an ordinary man.

Doing something,

That anybody can.

Weaving words,

And hoping to find a way.

To get people to read,

And think of what I say.

We're no different,

You and me.

Or that vagabond,

Walking down the street.

A billion people,

A billion different dreams.

Living within,

And way beyond our means.

What sets me apart,

Is the choices that I make.

The risks that I,

Will or will not take.

The sweet love,

That someone will soon know.

The broken heart,

And the words that follow.

We all bleed red,

If you cut any color of skin.

We're all the same,

What we are, lies within.

But tell me this,

Are you like me or am I like you?

What's different,

In the things that we do?

If we're all the same,

Then why should I even try.

Like we all live,

Some day we will soon die.

We walk alone,

But we never truly are.

You may feel bad,

But others have seen worse by far.

So stop thinking,

That you stand above the rest.

They're all trying,

It's all an imaginary test.

So step back,

From the varied silent crowd.

Hear my voice,

It may not be that loud.

What I say,

Applies to everyone.

Have some patience,

Your time has just begun.

Look at you,

You're an ordinary man.

Someone else is the same,

You're not the only one who can.

Look at me,

I'm an ordinary man.

Words.

My voice has left me,
My words are long gone.
It seems like yesterday,
But what I write now, seems wrong.

I used to sing praises,
And write about the good.
Notice what was missed,
Understand what was overlooked.
My heart seems weaker,
Every day that it beats.
My head seems heavier,
With every line that it thinks.

Broken glass would inspire,
Remind me of once complete things.
Each moment would aspire,
To write of greater beings.
My rhyme is forgotten,
What I write I do not know.
Something is missing inside,
And my words refuse to show.

My voice has left me,
My words are long gone.
It seems like yesterday,
But what I write now, seems wrong.

I could dream of splendid days,
Made of beautiful things.
I could create a harmony,
Yet now I cannot sing.
The days now drag on,
Those times was what I lived for.
But I’m dreading tomorrow today,
There’s nothing new to be found.

I want my inspiration,
I want my dedication.
I want all that’s gone,
I want all that I’ve never known.
To feel the joy of something new,
These days the moments are few.
I struggle with words for now,
Where is my mind lost?

Someone give me my voice,

Fill up this silent noise.

Give me comfort,

Let me write again.