Is the pain of not knowing
worse than the pain of choice
Does hurt more to say nothing
than it would to raise your voice

To share yourself between two places
means a heart thats torn in two
It also means that nobody
will get the best of you

For the best of you is many things
far too many here to list
and to spread yourself too thinly
means that many will be missed

You can certainly love two people
just not two people the same way
so the choice to make becomes
which kind of love you want to stay

I think either is a lucky man
no matter which you choose
but choose is something you must do
else everyone will lose.

My thirst it has been slaked
my hunger has been sated
today I feasted on your words
drank all that you created

A drought it was that I had suffered
these past few lonely days
I had lived among the starving
missing your poetic ways

But today the rains came once again
and what a crop they brought
I hope it rains again tomorrow
so others see what I have sought

Who lies beneath this faded stone
That once this place they did call home

This marker now thats all remains
Of a spirit free of earthly chains

Alas we know not who you are
and if you came from near or far

Nothing to say how long your life
Somebody's husband, child or wife

Did you suffer much, was death release?
All we do is pray you rest in peace

Who mourns the dead
from days gone by
When none are left
is it only I?

They shaped our land
and gave their lives
Fathers, daughters
sons & wives

And now they here
undisturbed
neath weathered stones
with faded words

"In memory of"
the headstones say
but names and dates
most worn away

Remember those
beneath the soil
for whom life was
an endless toil

for had their lives
not come this way
you and I may not
be here today.

Every time I close my eyes
I'm haunted by your face
by memories of you and I
a better time, a better place

And now and then when I forget myself
I'm haunted by your smile
as you creep into my thoughts
and linger for a while

Haunted, taunted every night
by the memory of what I lost
too scared to try again one day
unable to meet the cost

Every time I walked these cobbled streets
its just after the rains
as if God himself is trying to wash
this city down the drains

Narrow streets and terraced houses
back yard postage stamps
overflowing dumpsters
cashless carry for the tramps

No vibrant colours to be found
just different shades of brown
the colour of depression
destined to drag you down

No wonder everybody leaves
can't wait to get away
escape this drab and dying maze
in search of sunny days

The demons mostly come at night
while he's lying in his bed
they feed there in the darkness
planting seeds inside his head

Questioning his every thought
casting doubt on all he does
raising fear and uncertainty
about the ones he loves

But he cannot fight the demons
for they cannot be seen
And never does he wonder
why it is he doesn't dream

Why unlike most when our eyes close
and sleep carries us away
he doesn't relive memories
or dream the perfect day

Instead he gets no rest at all
and wakes exhausted every day
after hanging on til overcome
hoping to keep them all at bay

But in those few dark hours
true havoc it is wrought
as deeper is he punished
by every little thought

He lacks the voice to cry for help
and writes poetry instead
to stay awake just one more hour
and keep the demons from his head