Race of destruction,
Of want and greed!
Ruin is our addiction,
A beautiful yet hopeless plague,
As of now, our race’s future is rather vague.
We must change, because there is only so much, Mother Earth can bleed.
The Bully:
He chips away,
Every single-day.
Low self-esteem,
Is here to stay.
Picks on me every-time I go out to play,
Sick of living my life this way.
“Yes, I’m fat”,
I say “and what?”
He looks at me with dismay and punches me… I hit the ground;
My head hits the concrete and begins to pound.
I go back inside and eat some more,
I know, I’ll tell my dad I fell and hit the door.
I look out the curtain, he’s there waiting,
I’m stood here contemplating…
Should I go out?
Yes! Why not?
I walk out and he begins to swear and shout,
I rage and hit him with everything I’ve got,
With a whack, he goes instantly down
And I earn a new found respect and steal the bullies crown.
Pisses me off:
Annoying!
Sleep destroying,
Three times last night,
Hardly a delight.
Love the taste,
I need one of its elements to survive;
Can’t let it go to waste!
Water is the element from which it derives.
I love a good cup of tea,
But I don’t love how much it makes me pee!
Especially in the night,
When looking at the toilet bowl in the incandescent light, is an ugly sight!
Please Stand Behind the Yellow Line:
I stand all alone;
In the freezing cold.
Clear minded and in the zone,
Is taking one long leap bold?
Is it stupid and painful?
Considered shameful?
A miniscule moment of pain;
But no doubt there will be a lifelong affliction, from an inanimate train.
Feel the rush,
As the wind brushes against my weathered skin.
Something holds me back,
Is it because I wonder how many lives it would crush?
They say it is the soul’s worst sin,
To end it of your own free will.
Do I go backwards?
Or go forwards and take a brave leap onto this lonely track?
A Lovely Canine:
Her mighty snarl,
Her friendly face,
She was treasured like a pearl,
Always fond of a good bike chase!
Once knocked a tooth from her master’s mouth,
She knew the truth,
About that rotten tooth,
A friendly head-butt, but nonetheless uncouth.
Those begging eyes,
Waiting for a surprise,
Of tender meat,
So she could do what she loved the most, the old dog just loved to eat!
My Best Friend:
It walked up to me,
And I felt a strange feeling inside,
I could have cried.
She sort of smiled at me.
She reminded me of her, with her soft, greying hair,
And the way in which she used to be full of vitality.
This photo is all that’s left of her image… you could say she’s achieved immortality.
But I do not need an image, a photo, because I still feel, I still care!
For a brief moment, I forgot about her,
I think that’s why I almost cried.
Gentle, old, brown eyes,
I still long to stroke your fur.
Didn’t get the chance to look into those silent eyes and say my goodbyes,
I still miss you! You were once my best friend, my Sarah that sadly died.
Reactor Number 4:
Deserted waste,
Left a sour taste,
In the Soviets mouth.
Their shortened lives must have been tough.
Nuclear reactor,
Was it the key factor?
By man’s mistake the region was almost demolished,
The day will come when nuclear programs are abolished;
End of the world?
That is yet to unfold.
Left in a hurry no time to pack,
Time to panic,
People manic.
Horror, terror and vast amputations,
Reactor number four induced sickening mutations,
While the rest of the world looked fearfully on Chernobyl, and took a safe step back.
River of Red:
Fields that are now green,
Once shone as bright as Red Rouge.
History, not always clean,
Some wipe it away, others turn it grey;
Men, women and children sickened with courage.
The red power,
Infectious;
Like a bee to an un-pollenated flower,
The west couldn’t or wouldn’t protect us.
Thousands of voices lost and for what?
Mr Pol Pot.
Purge, repress, suppress, execute,
“Please don’t shoot!”
Lost to the dirt, only the worms hear the cries, the moans,
And wiggle through the not so forgotten skulls and bones.
The Rot:
Secret terror eats within,
Looking drawn, looking thin,
Young or old, your future it will withhold;
Only time will tell how your future will unfold.
Caught too late?
Drastic measures,
Operate!
They’ve cut off my private treasures…
Waited too long, the symptoms I ignored,
My body it will consume,
Placing me in my mortal tomb,
Without prejudice,
How fair is this?
The cancer has taken away my life and everything I adored.
Shire Folk:
A land and home, to the small,
Who would have guessed they were the bravest of them all?
Blood was spilt at tremendous costs,
Because the ring of power, possesses, the majority of its hosts.
A journey through the wild;
Friendships made,
Friendships lost.
They say the one who carries it resembles a child!
A war was wade,
Of power, want and lust.
In the darkness of Mordor,
Its master called.
“Come back to me and everything will be in order”
By the trickery of Gollum they were stalled…
On Mount Doom a legend was made,
And the evil of Mordor was erased,
By the small, quaint Hobbits of the shire,
And their bravery, honesty, whole-heartedness is something to admire.
The Spiders Web of Woe:
Crawling, creeping,
Out of the cold,
This warm place I could grow old.
I watch, peeping, as the house lords are sleeping.
Hungry I pray for a morsel to eat,
In this web of old,
Alas not a catch, but anything better, than that biting cold!
With hungry eyes I utter “Just one juicy treat!”
Buzzing and bashing into windows aimlessly,
Unfortunate for me it does not land in my net,
How I fret,
“I fear this creature will be the death of me…”
Withered and thin,
Alone this web I spin,
What did I do wrong?
No creature will heed my song.
Gnawing hunger, through the night,
Listen to my pain,
Oh aimless one, in perpetual flight,
Land in my lonesome net, so I can live again!
The Girl from Saigon:
Chop,
Chop,
Chop;
That’s the sound of foreign helicopters landing by the trees of palm,
Geared up soldiers ready for whatever mayhem may come and to cause great harm.
The good old boys enter a small village,
Ready to kill, rape and pillage,
“Mission objective boys, stamp out communism!”
But I ask myself, is communism better for the people than French colonialism?
The idea is good, but I think I’ll stick with freedom and capitalism.
Snap, snap, snap,
That’s the sound of when my camera flashes.
My heart leaps and then crashes,
As I see her young head resting on a broken soldiers lap.
He sat there crying…
I know this girl I danced with her just the other night, now she is dying?
Sick of life,
Tired of war,
The killing he could not and would not take anymore.
A young man with no foreseeable future, with no children or wife,
Picked up his gun, said a prayer and put a bullet,
Straight through his gullet…
Deceased,
Departed and bled dry, but nonetheless they’re both at ease.
Sadness dwells inside of me, with no immediate cure…
The Yankee Doodle would crow no more,
I had seen him execute himself and cease to exist…
Whilst day by day communism tightens, and clenches its fist,
But these events do not sadden me the most…
It’s the slow death of the picturesque girl,
Caught in the crossfire, never again to give me a twirl,
This is what saddens me the most; the inevitable truth that the girl from Saigon is gone, gone, gone.
Stranded in a Lonely Place:
On its perch, scoping for prey,
The eagle has landed,
And I hope it's here to stay.
I watch breathlessly, as I lay here stranded.
If I were an eagle,
I would soar so, so, high.
But alas, I am not regal,
Ever breathless, waiting to die.
The golden eagle lands by my feet,
Oh my! What a final treat!
Dear eagle, I once feared death,
Thank you eagle, because of you, I am no longer afraid to draw my last breath.
The Callus and I:
Thick skin,
Sick of it,
Gnaw it thin;
Plays havoc with my wit.
Bite it!
Cut it!
Rub it,
Pick it!
Rougher than a horses hide,
Ever returning;
The skin has died,
Your riddance I’m yearning.
Thick, putrid, callus;
Oh, how I wish to cause you malice!
The Counts Revenge:
In the darkness I loom,
All your life I will consume!
One beating heart,
“He will be my grandest work of art!”
Puncture skin,
In the cover of night;
Filling your corpse with rotten sin,
God will not hear you tonight.
Wrapped in mist,
Shadow of what was once human.
Blood you will not resist.
You will be reborn a new man,
Oh my, what a devious plan!
“Rise Mr Harker, you thought I was dead!
I snatched your human life from the comfort of your bed.”
“How can this be? I slashed your throat with a Kukri knife,
Whilst Mr Morris stabbed your heart and took your inhuman life!”
“Immortal I am, and now, so are you,
And to that, there is nothing you can do.
Come now, there is little left of the night;
Fly with me now to avoid the dreaded morning light!”
Back to their coffins, in the pre-sunrise light they flew.
A new slave for Dracula and Mr Harker’s thirst for blood ever grew.
The Final Waltz:
We dance together under the pale moonlight,
Oh my, what a beautiful night!
Seductive whispers…
He knows exactly what I want to hear.
“Anything,
Everything!
Wish for it,
And I shall grant it.
The world could be yours,
If you just say those four little words.”
“Here comes our final spin,
Make your choice!
And a new life for you will begin.”
I begin to cry, tears of rejoice.
“My soul is yours!”
I whisper into his ear, giving into his seductive temptation,
And without a shadow of doubt or hesitation.
Oh my, what a sensation!
For me he will open new worlds and closed doors.
“When my hooves stop, it’s time to go,
Because you’re time has come and I have tricked you so.”
His hooves stop,
With a heavy clip, clap, clop.
Blasted devil, evil seduction… I am to blame not him, curse me!
Yes, I am cursed. Stupid enough I wished for eternity.
And eternity I have received,
And dragged to hell by his servants, forever lost and eternally bereaved.
An Innocent Cock:
He stops,
He turns,
His stomach churns,
Innocent or not he is wanted by the cops.
Caught...
Did he do it?
No he did not...
His mind tormented by four walls and a wishful thought,
He begins to lose the plot.
How he cries for his mothers’ tit.
In his final stages of madness he laughs forever on.
Shackles and chain,
Death row is to blame,
For what made him erratic and insane.
The electric chair will take his suffering, his madness, his pain,
And the innocent old Yankee boy will be lost, forgotten... gone.
The Forest of Few:
The sun shines as I walk,
My arms move to-and-fro.
Wildlife tries to thrive, that is evident in their ‘talk’.
This path will take me anywhere I wish to go.
Cool air brushes against my face,
Summer air I can taste,
Now this, is my kind of place.
Where you can live for free and try not to waste.
Freedom of life,
Go hand in hand,
With this well-nourished land.
No judgment here, no strife.
In this forest of liberty,
I would rather be here and die, than be there and lose any remaining sanity.
The Mist is Thick:
One stray tear,
Is lost in time and in the darkness of space,
Forget it, nobody can hear.
Get off my case.
Clenched fists,
Do I implode or explode?
Keep it in, try to control the red mists.
My nerves are going to erode!
Adrenaline rush,
The mist begins and my judgement it tries to crush.
The darkness is in us all, the anger, the hate,
It explodes within all of us, but will you be able to control the mist, before it's too late?
The Monk’s Regret:
I approach her closed door,
And smell a sweet scent.
Should I le
t this love ferment?
Or give into her allure?
Yes!
No…
My pupils grow;
Time to decide, should I stay or should I regress?
Come in!
I succumb to sin.
Now I am only left with shame,
And I am the only one to blame.
The Regretful Ghost:
I look down at this stool,
I have been here before.
I felt like a tool.
This place terrifies me to wretched core.
Nobody liked me,
Time to go.
One kick, one final blow.
They all gaze straight through me.
I kicked the stool,
As hard as I could;
I was angry and felt misunderstood.
In this place, I am king, I rule!
I can only see now the pain and love for me,
Now that I am as dead as dead can be.
The Wolf to the Sheep:
No identity,
Or credibility...
Heard this nonsense all before,
Oh go away, you’re all such a bore.
Lead and they will follow,
No questions asked.
Minds are hollow,
And faces are masked.
No difference from the next...
My mind remains constantly perplexed.
Baa, goes the sheep.
Surrounded by billions of empty voices,
My soul takes a leap,
When I meet an individual who can make their own choices...
Transparent Liars:
I can see through you,
And your deceptive smile,
It doesn’t deceive me,
Try as you may,
You won’t trick me today.
Some are taken in by your flattery;
I’m too coy and would never turn my back on thee.
Moved by money and greed;
Because you say, “I have a whole family to feed.”