Wednesday, 19 August 2009

The Struggle

What have I done
What can I do
Where am I going
What can I prove?

Are you proud of me
Do you know who I am?

If you speak of me
What do you think I'd say?
When I'm gone
What will you dream in my place?

Why does my mind matter
If no one will ever guess?

I should concede while I am still just
Even these words fail to grasp the point
That my fingers are faithful I can only trust
What could be closer than this?

Healing Blues

Can you tell me why
I have suddenly lost
What was confidence
In my voice?

Is the answer simple,
Was it a myth to begin?
Was I blind,
Was I drinking straight gin?

I don't believe it's true
Which means for all of you
Nothing and nothing again
The one tale I cannot prove.

Just keep the rhythm going
Perhaps I will wake up
Only to question where I'm going
And spit in a paper cup.

Back and forth I wander
Wearing down my brain
I'll need new shoes by morning
Or I'll have to catch the train.

I doubt it is sincere
This crippling crutch of mine
A depth it lacks
And heart it attacks
Yet still it won't learn to rhyme.


You are the
one who
drains from me
what I need
to live.

Exhaust me, wait
you will be
rewarded soon.

Contend for hope
against your wishes
against all chance
to cope.

My means,
my dreams
what I cannot

Forgive the dead
for they do
not know
what you need
to live.

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

To Achieve Momentum in the Manner of an Object Without Propulsion

The gift is what keeps us moving
I once knew what that meant.
Now, in my single room, I adjust
When I think that it suits me.
The future has lost its appeal.

A journey. Soft and close but not.
Only the road could understand.
Only a metaphor.

My eyes turn outward
It is hard to turn in
We listen so readily
We forget our own skin.

Sunday, 9 August 2009

Count it on Your Fingers

I'm going to walk into my life
One day it'll all make sense
A dream faraway
Will carry me for a trade
And then leave,
So I can wake up.

Such selfless action
A thankless task
Giving it all for
What we daren't ask.

It remains to be seen
And it'll stay that way
If it can be
who it should be.

I'll then join in the fun
That comes from running long
And then stopping,
Breathing the air.

Each gasp then serves
To remind me of what
I have; and what
I can then surely be,
not and miss.

Escape, and laughter
The energy to live
A dream bent on
Succeeding at any
Or almost all cost.