Temporary Grace

This surface has a temporary grace

a fingerprint, a name, a recognisable face

here’s a shoulder to cry on, when the world grows cold

here are my open arms, my hand to hold

While beneath my eyelids

I am always awake

the architect of my dreams

choreographer of the moves

tearing down and rebuilding worlds

the playwright, script and scene

The actor in costume

a child playing hide and seek.

 

So, count to ten, try to find me

try to find me where I roam

don’t weigh me up in flesh and bone

that’s like staring at the building

and never making it home

you need to dig deeper

for the gold

you need to dig deep

for the gold.

How Pieces of Me Disappeared

They set my feet in concrete when I wanted to dance

I lost my patience.

 

I was born to roam free, so they caged me

stole my lions’ roar and I lost my pride.

 

They discussed me like an abstract art exhibit

that they didn’t find aesthetically pleasing

I lost my imagination.

 

They cut out my tongue when I wanted to sing

I lost my voice.

 

They sent me to sleep with fairy-tales

of lands, they tell me, never really existed

there goes my happy ending.

 

Sing Us To Sleep

They’re putting up barbed wire fences

between you and I

they’re burning down the bridges

raising up the walls

they’re showering the world with bullets and bombs

they’re tearing the peace flag down

they’re coming for us now

waving guns in our eyes

well, how do you sleep at night?

 

I sleep well-

because I never truly wake up

the nightmare will be there

eyes open

eyes shut

I should be terrified

I should be truly afraid

but they’ve numbed my senses

to their violent reign

day in, day out

The news channel speaks of war

like it’s expected

any day now

but never on our doorstep.

 

Who are we kidding?

to think we’re safe

wasting life away on Facebook

or watching trash TV shows

where our main concern is how popular we are

to the online freak-show

in a quest for a taste of fame

we’ve been conditioned to crave

while they put up barbed wire fences

between you and I

everything we’ve been dreaming of

was a wicked lie.

 

They’re coming for us now

waving guns in our eyes

how do you sleep at night?

how do we sleep at night?

how do I sleep at night?

the nightmare is real

eyes open, eyes shut.

 

What lullaby will they sing?

when they send us all to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Regrets

Regrets don’t define me

they have a conscience

remind me

refine me

guide me

adjust, redesign me

they find me

walk beside and behind me

they change me for the better

wise me up

shake me awake

shock me real

turn me around

I turn on my heel,

they drop the hints

push me forward

give me reality checks

give me facts

behind the lies

behind the eyes

I’ll never deny them, but

they’ll fuck me up if I repeat them.

Waiting in Line

You reach a certain age and you realise

we are all just waiting in line

watching people die

waiting for our number to be called

the only certainty we have about life

is that life is a death sentence

so enjoy it while it lasts.

 

We dream,

as we pace about our waiting rooms

of perfect lives, perfect bodies

nice house and garden

the perfect love story

we work, in varying capacities

to achieve great things

weighing ourselves against the competition

comparing notes.

 

We get by

shuffling our feet, slouching in front of TV Sets

that feed us dreams and bullshit

we buy the bullshit-

hopeful of success but clueless on what it takes

mortality creeps up on us

as we sleepwalk

carelessly stumbling on addictions, habits and greed

we dance across the tightrope of time

as though immune to danger.

 

What a waste,

to spend a lifetime finding our balance

to slip, fall and find no safety net beneath us

what a tragic shame

we don’t love each other enough

to show respect, understanding and kindness

don’t appreciate each other

don’t care until it’s over.

 

we turn a blind eye until all hope is gone

wake up suddenly regretful, feeling sorry for ‘ourselves’

tears are reserved for the living, my friend

you were born to ‘feel’.
You’ll reach a certain age and realise.