Read Inmate, Earth - I, Poet Series, Vol I Page 2


  Nothing kind,

  All entwined,

  This terrible storm

  In my mind

  ALL OF YOU

  To make your mark upon the world,

  Your personality unfurled;

  To be substantial, be something great,

  To not do this brings hate,

  Of yourself for not trying to succeed,

  In life, in love, with utmost speed;

  But maybe this is the wrong way to be,

  Fulfilled, it’s true, but with jealousy,

  Of others who’ve made it greater than you,

  Making you angry, bitter, blue,

  And all there is left to lampoon,

  Is an empty, colourless, soulless cartoon

  THROW IT UP

  Look in the mirror, what do you see,

  Is that a curve growing on thee?

  Surely that yogurt didn’t do this to you,

  So maybe it was that piping hot stew;

  You didn’t throw it up quickly enough this time,

  In future you’ll know, and you’ll be fine;

  With hair like straw, a voice like gravel,

  Pigment of ochre, too weak to travel;

  Such lack of self-worth, you’re heading for a crash,

  Hormones going crazy, growing a moustache;

  A pitiful sight, I think you’ll agree,

  Too much missed dinner, breakfast and tea;

  And too many magazines full of stick-thin insects,

  Calling themselves celebrities, and the way it infects,

  The feeling of self-worth in so many young girls,

  Locked in material values, in fashion and curls

  A TORTURED ARTIST

  I’m only a shell of my former self,

  Empty,

  Pitiful,

  Laughable,

  Like a comic book;

  An artist such as me, reduced,

  To this,

  To poverty,

  Wearing rubber soles,

  And rags

  It was to be so different,

  So magnificent,

  So inspirational,

  So innovative,

  Yet, they cast me aside like a discarded soapbox;

  Don’t they understand my brilliance?

  My talent?

  My determination?

  My yearning?

  But reduced to painting postcards, I am!

  Wish you were here

  QUITTING

  Don’t you dare, you cannot quit,

  We carry on, never split;

  We’re the Heroes of our life,

  Always conquering trouble and strife;

  Giving up is alien to us,

  Fulfilling a task gives us a buzz;

  But why do we always think this way?

  Of demons in life, fit to slay?

  Sometimes we do it ‘cos we must,

  Or our life would turn to dust;

  At other times we believe the brief,

  From others who’ve got us by the teeth;

  In this sense, not quitting can be a form of control,

  Giving us hope that we are whole,

  When really we’re only doing other’s bidding,

  Getting on with things, never quitting;

  So maybe we need to realise this,

  Quitting can be hell, not bliss,

  A way to be told just what to do,

  When really we just don’t have a clue;

  But when we know that we must do,

  Things in life that are so very true,

  Quitting is never the way to be,

  For we go through life heroically

  LOVE

  Autumn Song … Defences Down … Entwined

  AUTUMN SONG

  Autumn – we sway along,

  Breezing through our song,

  Intertwined so naturally,

  As one in perfect harmony;

  Memories enshroud us of our past,

  Nowhere near the very last,

  So many songs to dance away,

  Together, forever, in our play;

  Gentle tempo, light as air,

  Old bones retain their vital flair,

  Dancing on and on and on,

  Happy in our swan song

  DEFENCES DOWN

  Reconnaissance to Central – Target found,

  Thank you Recce, Manoeuvres go round,

  In position, in my sights,

  Battle commencing, strategy bites

  Peaceful day, all is calm, all around nothing to harm,

  Gently strolling down the lane, nothing here can cause pain,

  All alone, no one close, perfect time to be engrossed,

  In a change to this life, pure and simple, free of strife

  Target surrounded, no retreat,

  Ready to go in, mission complete,

  Projectile loaded, ready to fire,

  Hit the target! Forces retire

  On the ground, lying still, stars exploding, quite a thrill,

  No longer alone, surrounded by arms, mind is reeling, nothing calms;

  As the final move is made, the battle plan begins to fade,

  For Cupid’s arrow could never miss; thus entwined, we kiss

  ENTWINED

  Love, that greatest pursuit of man,

  Striking unexpectedly, destroying the plan,

  Of how you thought your life would be,

  Providing a wonderful destiny;

  Love, two people, their lives entwine,

  Some things forfeit, others divine,

  As one forever and a day,

  By night, with them we always lay;

  Love, the thing that can break your heart,

  When one decides it’s time to depart,

  Unbearable, the longing deep inside,

  A pathetic existence, no one to confide;

  Love, a constant search to feel whole,

  To bring the loved one back to the fold,

  So now I’m approaching the ultimate tryst,

  My suicide; I see her! It feels so nice

  PHILOSOPHICAL

  Homo Curious … The Guide … Everything Is Under Control … Camera-derie … The Curve … Nothing Outside … Fallen City … Star Person … Mind Plan … To Compose … Life

  HOMO CURIOUS

  What is that? I want to know,

  I’ve got to go where knowledge goes;

  I am curious, always am,

  Are things laid down as a plan?

  I need to find out what it’s all about,

  I cannot stand that thing called doubt;

  I’m not alone, there’s so many like this,

  Learning things can be such bliss;

  It drove that caveman out of skins,

  Insatiable appetite to know more things;

  It drove explorers to horizons new,

  Banishing myth for things that are true;

  It drove philosophers to think it out,

  And then ‘Eureka’ they would shout;

  It drove the scientist to delve into all,

  Banish the idea that we are small;

  Knowledge is simply what we do,

  Improving things for me and you;

  We’re Homo Curious. What’s new?

  THE GUIDE

  Going through life can be a bind,

  As our path we try to find;

  It seems as if we’re in a maze,

  Life going by, in a haze;

  We search for guides to help us through,

  Put us on course, strong and true;

  Sometimes they help, sometimes they don’t,

  Sometimes they can, sometimes they won’t;

  In our mind we find them best,

  Constantly working, never at rest,

  Deciding this, deciding that,

  Always wearing a different hat;

  Conscience, libido, ego, too,

  They’re all a definite part of you;

  They always answer every plea,

  But
are they sane, or insanity?

  This is the problem with which you cope,

  No guide here, only hope,

  That the one who rises is on your side,

  And not determined to turn the tide

  EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL

  A comforting statement, it does console,

  Everything is under control;

  Situation normal, nothing wrong,

  All is going nicely along;

  But there’s another meaning, another way,

  To define those words, without delay;

  Nothing is right, freedom stole,

  ‘Cos everything is under control;

  Whatever you do, wherever you go,

  Forces cram in, give you vertigo,

  Shaping your life in mysterious ways,

  Society, a frightening, controlling maze;

  So which is right, the sublime or malign?

  Which is the way, mysterious or all’s fine?

  Well, if you can see there’s nothing wrong,

  Begin to worry, they’re working you along,

  The road they want for their ultimate role,

  ‘Cos everything is under control

  CAMERA-DERIE

  Watching, always, two by two,

  Seeing, exactly, what you do;

  One on the corner, another down the street,

  Some you can see, others discreet;

  But those cameras are certainly always there,

  Not bothered if it brings you despair;

  You’re watched, so get used to it,

  Even if Orwell would have a fit;

  We’re the voyeurs of society,

  Happy with invasive technology,

  To know what goes on gives us a thrill,

  So scream as you like, no matter how shrill;

  We’re here to stay, with all our new techs,

  ‘Cos watching = power = sex

  THE CURVE

  Draw a straight line, an impossible task,

  Why is this? You may well ask;

  Draw it all across the world,

  You’ll end up back where it first unfurled;

  Even the universe adheres to this rule,

  Gravity bends light, as if a spool;

  It may be something that we really hate,

  But absolutely nothing can ever be straight;

  There is always a curve to it all,

  Whether it be big, or be it small;

  People believe we think in straight lines,

  But even here the universe defines;

  Be it science, religion, politics, whatever,

  Keeping it straight is an impossible endeavour;

  Always we go in neverending cycles,

  Forever repeating the human recital;

  Things are curved, undefined, never true,

  Learn this secret and we can begin anew

  NOTHING OUTSIDE

  I miss my shadow, it’s never there,

  Nothing hidden, all is bare;

  Where is my reflection? I see it not,

  As if skin and bone is all I’ve got;

  What is me if these things are gone?

  I hope they’re back before too long;

  I seem to be nothing more than me,

  Discarded, maybe, ‘cos of vanity;

  Where is anything exterior to my self,

  Without them I have nothing, no wealth;

  I’m just an empty shell of an original kind,

  A metaphor concerning what’s in my mind,

  Empty,

  Alone,

  And blind

  FALLEN CITY

  Oh, city proud, so vibrant, I greet,

  You as mankind’s greatest feat,

  Bringing civilisation to ancient man,

  Fuelling thought, an intellectual van,

  Organising people into a force,

  That negotiated history’s on going course,

  Forever evolving to something new,

  Providing all important social glue;

  Yet into this noble, mighty cause,

  You let so many darkened, evil mores,

  Politics to conquer, and empires created,

  Millions dead, we are so fated,

  And environment you shunned, knowing best,

  Sucking resources from nature’s breast,

  Damaging the planet along the way,

  Did you not realise it couldn’t last, I prey?

  And now the planet is more mighty than you,

  Rumbling constantly, ongoing and true,

  Shaking the city under your feet,

  Race away, quickly, you must retreat!

  For this is the might of nature’s blows,

  Felling your buildings like brittle,

  Inconsequential dominoes

  STAR PERSON

  We stare up high and wonder,

  What is above the sky,

  But remain on Earth and blunder,

  And never really try,

  To get up there amongst the stars,

  And journey, learn, explore,

  Instead we travel only in cars,

  And live a life we deplore;

  But one day we’ll exist in the light,

  Where today we only stare,

  Our face will reflect our true delight,

  And mankind will be aware

  MIND PLAN

  We see the world in all its glory,

  Experiencing things and placing our story,

  Upon our inner reflections of life,

  Creating mind, vibrant and rife;

  But how do we know where thoughts are hidden,

  Those that are friendly and those forbidden?

  Where is the map of our inner world,

  Its ideas, its dreams, all unfurled?

  To find them we must search a mental maze,

  Turning to thoughts that are otherwise a haze;

  But once we know them, they do glint,

  Shining bright memories, as they hint,

  The way to our inner fingerprint

  TO COMPOSE

  We compose, we do, we create,

  It is our inevitable fate;

  In all things, we try to make,

  For ourselves, and for others’ sake;

  Our ultimate victory in part,

  Is our skill, our craft, our art;

  Yet why do we do it at all,

  When it will all inevitably fall?

  With entropy the world arose,

  Which means everything will always decompose;

  So why do we do it, I pray,

  When it will all eventually decay?

  To show our existence, we do it, I say,

  And then for others,

  We make way

  LIFE

  Life, it grows, it dies, is reborn,

  The beauty of a rose, complimented by its thorn;

  It thrives in absolute diversity,

  Demanding no rights, no obligation, no fee

  Life is everywhere, from my toes to my hair,

  But of it, nothing can I declare;

  It remains a paradoxical mystery,

  From an ant, a fish, and even a tree

  From where did it come, this thing called life,

  Its dominion on Earth, its troubles and strife?

  Some say it came from a primeval goo,

  Others that God made me and you

  We know it only from its conscious upstarts,

  But life is greater than the sum of its parts;

  It is the ultimate connection of things,

  Ecology, together, it buzzes, it sings

  But if only it could speak to us so low,

  Allowing understanding of diversity, its glow;

  We may learn to treat it with more respect,

  Instead of being so brutal,

  Unthinking,

  And killing through neglect

  SCARY

  Windows … Phenomenal … Spooky Time of Year … First Time In Heaven

  WINDOWS

>   Windows are eyes that stare at you,

  Or portals to others, if you look through;

  Mediums that connect you to more,

  Seclusion something they totally abhor;

  Windows show how things can be,

  Allowing alternative ways to see,

  The beauty of how others exist,

  Or horrors disclosed, they always persist;

  But what if you’re neither here nor there,

  Just seeing a reflection when you stare,

  Caught in a world trapped in their glare,

  A window to nothing from nowhere?

  Shatter the glass! Escape! If you dare

  PHENOMENAL

  Ghosties, spooks, goblins and all,

  Stories told, often thought tall,

  But just how true are these cases, many?

  After all, they continue, ten a penny;

  Truth can be so relative,

  Evidence, oh, so tentative,

  Are they real or in the mind?

  Or somewhere inbetween, we may find;

  People who see such mysteries worry,

  But knowledge seems to be in no hurry,

  Believers believe and that is that,

  Scientists scoff, it’s all old hat,

  People, they say, should get over it,

  Don’t be such a stupid twit!

  Which leaves so many fearful and scared,

  What they saw cannot be compared,

  To anything that seems of this world,

  Madness, so often, is unfurled;

  We owe them far, far more than this,

  They deserve a life of total bliss,

  Free of non-understanding of what’s going on,

  So we can’t dismiss it when it’s not gone;

  So get a grip researchers, all,

  Work it out! Be enthralled,

  By the mysteries of the universe,

  Not just quasars, but what’s been in a hearse;

  It is not beyond our advanced mind,

  For a theory surely to find,

  Then the experiencer can be enlightened,

  For at present, you’re leaving them very frightened

  SPOOKY TIME OF YEAR

  Christmas comes, plenty of cheer,

  Not really anything to fear,

  Until you turn the pages true,

  Of Christmas stories old and new;

  Dickensian thrills come your way,

  Ghosties, ghouls on display,

  Gothic horrors in all their might,

  Giving you a terrible fright;

  But what is that bang that you hear,

  From the pages – or maybe near?

  The chill is on, creepiness ensues,

  It’s jumped out of the page!!!

  It’s behind you

  FIRST TIME IN HEAVEN

  To go there first, a magical place,