I'm an apostle of broken things
of bitter blows and sacred stings
the night turns weary inside the dark
the taste of death come morning

I wake inside this unholy night
broken against a fearsome light
blinded by music too much too soon
the ache of love gone missing

We are walkers of the dawn
losing direction as the final star
fades from the night sky-
no internal compass to guide us
as we lose sight of the Milky Way

We are balloons children cut loose
to watch soar
above their bedroom window
with the hope one day
they will do the same      

We are billows of smoke formed
from catastrophes in our minds
when our fears take hold
blowing our dreams to smithereens

We are the Harvest Moon
suffocated by the shadow of Earth
starved of the light which reveals
our existence

We revere those we see
as greater than us
sweeping ourselves
under the carpet
no account for our worth

We discount our own gifts
push them aside
underestimating their power
to save others & ourselves

We walk in the shadow
of our demons
so burned by the chains
on our own ankles
we become nothing more
than cinders
where are feet once were

We cry to the moon each night
praying for a miracle
thinking the sky is falling in
& the world ending
before our very eyes

We are all just fragments
delicately placed together
by a maker on the Moon
walking this Earth
too scared to reach
out a hand
and embrace our fellow man

© Sia Jane

poetry flowing
scattering its joy
and sorrows.

as dark eyes close
the harbour
waits for the moon
to unlock
its hidden silence.

wrapped beneath
september stars
a ghost that watches
where the water
drifts.

whilst in the line of vehicles i'm stuck
the traffic won't clear anytime soon
the road broke down to the ground
in retaliation to the crumbling pressure
the parking space has been taken
i can hardly hear the birds sing midst this honking sound
the town that once was the abode of trees evergreen
seems to be just another city
overcrowded roads
advertisements and elevators and billboards
commercialization and traders
the din's too loud that sings
the tune of materialism to us
where compassion once was
and lives mattered over things
i can hardly hear the butterflies flutter by
or see the color of their wings
i'm blinded by traffic lights
development of a new order...how
the spirit is lost 'n layered
my baggage is becoming a burden now
my closet too small for the things i want
in the midst of all things
as i plant these saplings
the trees and the flowers say to me
"we are one, as we are, so are you"
SO I AM I AM
i'm not my mind, my desires
i am the color in the wings of a butterfly
i am the blue of the sky
i am not my cluttered mind
i am the clear rill that flows by
i am the silence beneath the noise
i am the still space's silent poise
yet i am none
yet i am
in mother nature's loving care i repose
yes i am what you are
and we are one
from the seen to the seer i turn
and i am that distant star
of the limitless sky
i am the space and the life...

sometimes your tongue is stuck to the floor
and its all you can do to lick at nothing
no insight tumbling from your lips
and then a dream reappears, like magic;
Last night,
I was in a Russian bar drinking lager
then on a train, still Russian,
talking in sign language to two old Russian grandmothers
And then,
something was stolen, and my companion,
some kind of James Bond,  
it was his fault the thing, whatever it was,
got stolen! How superior was I in that moment.

i looked in the mirror at my bearded face
and peered into my eyes.
and saw all the things I hated.
hypocrisy.
ignorance.
jealousy.
confusion.

in that moment
i became something I hated,

i can't be this person.