The sign said, “welcome”, so I opened up and I went in,
Thought I could move within and along.
But the faces were strange
And it seemed oh so plain,
Here was a place
Where I don’t belong.

There was a table before me where I thought I could sit
To devour the radish and bask in the song.
But gold brick shattered the plate
And the minstrels were late.
It turned out to be another place
Where I don’t belong.

And the next door led to another room
The lock was not so strong.
I wanted to fit,
Even expected it,
But it was another place
Where I don’t belong.

Down the street another stop to observe,
And I’ll wait among the throngs.
Perhaps here’s where I’ll see
Some people like me.
But it was another place
Where I don’t belong.

Alone on a walk, no need to talk.
Somehow isolation doesn’t seem wrong.
And it could be good,
This silent solitude.
Maybe
Here is the place I belong.

(The Stalking Song)

I’m doomed to be
Doomed to be your shadow.
Wherever you go
I’m doomed to follow.

I’m doomed to live
In your limelight.
I’m doomed to stay ten yards behind
And out of sight.

I’m doomed to peek
In your windows.
Wherever you go
I’m doomed to go.

I’m doomed to watch.
And I’m doomed to wait.
I’m doomed to wonder,
Plan, and contemplate.

And for reasons you never,
Ever could understand
You’re doomed to die
By my hand…

Those who know, oh so often don’t know what to say.
They might call you a hero, or tell you that you’re brave,
And that all love is unconditional.

We all have our values, see virtues, and work through vices.
We cement our beliefs through interactions on devices.
And start to think that some love is unconditional.

We’re remolded, reshaped, be it through purpose or providence.
We become robust, resolute. At times straightened, at others bent,
Believing what we do is traditional.

Respect for one’s self is essential to grow.
We must challenge the things we believe that we know.
And no love is ever unconditional.

And if we love ourselves than none ought to be.

I see the shape of things
As they shift
And slowly change.

I feel the weight it brings
As they chisel
And carve their names.

As the clouds move through their lives
They stretch, and pull apart.
No cloud will ever be the way
It was back at its start.

Maybe we are as those clouds,
Reshaping as we go.
No need to be ashamed nor proud.
Simply travel where winds blow.

Maybe we could learn from them,
Who exist but do not fight.
Face reality with grace, and then
Do the same in the windy night.

Oh say, can you see?
As they carve up your rights
Ideals once proudly held,
Now lay gasping and bleeding.
Future pride and bright hopes
Face a perilous might;
Those who rampage through life,
Destroying and feeding.
Through the raucous and flare
Declaring justice “unfair”,
Lacking proof that they’re right,
But they don’t seem to care.
Oh say, do you still think yourselves free and brave?
Or is it the land of the fee
And the home of the depraved?

There is no purple in my berry.
The winter’s cold. It is not merry.
There is no song left still to sing.
The summer’s gone. There is no spring.

There is no colour in the sky.
There is no answer to the “why”.
A songbird sings. There are no notes.
The words we say don’t leave our throats.

And when we yearn, there’s no relief.
There may be faith. There’s no belief.
There is anger stirred up without cause,
For there is not what once there was.

I swim endless in despair
So that I do not drown in it.
I breathe only to breathe.

I am suspended in sunlight with no warmth.
I am surrounded by notes that make no melody.
I fumble, falter, fail.

Heavy as a raindrop whose cold
Penetrates deeply into loneliness
Is the air, the light, the lingering.

I forget too much.
I remember too much.
I am too much, and not enough.

A shallow pool is that in which we swim
A void wants only to be filled.
Misery takes us all.