All roads lead to Calvary
It's three hours of agony
away from friends and family
To get there you'll need more than bravery.
A man did died there
for baring our sins
so we wouldn't have to.
We remember him in glory
for dying for us.
And we sinners turn to prayers
But this is a fallacy
Appeal to the stone
because it cannot be disproved.
I have no time for circular logic.
So live in ignorance
That only the dead man on the cross
can provide salvation.
Born to sin and die in sin.
Pin down by fervent belief
Even though he spilled blood
for us, makes no difference.
Say your prayers.
Meaningless repetition
Just as bad as the pagans
So repeat it till the day you die.

"Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour our deaths, Amen."
*ad nauseam

Good old rain
Is upon us again
Cold pain
is upon us again

We could melt away
Back to the black
If just for a day or more
Ignore what was felt

However
Good old rain has remain
And we should too

Darling, let yourself cry
Raining now but we have
All of our life to be dry

I have a headache
I can feel my temple shaking
Like my brain had an earthquake
shaking all my thoughts free

It can't be fought
The drowning bang of dreams and doubt
A never-ending thumping on the door
All dying to get out

And even after the earthquake stops
And all these thoughts are gone
I begin the tedious task
Of fixing the damage done

But I can still see the cracks
The damage had gone to far
And no amount of time will heal it

So I'll pretend, I'll be a fake
At least until the next headache

please don't make me think
turn the volume up
let me sink in noise
drown it all out
i don't want to hear you
call my name anymore

if i must live in this world
then i refuse to dwell on notions
i shall go through the motions
because it be hell if i stopped
and hell if i think

All my walking and talking leads
Me to the shore but what for?
Dawning on me is the morning light
Streaks of gold breaking over the horizon
Instead of being awed, I am only tired
Eyelids heavy, pulled down by dark bags
Life, slowly seeping out.
Spilling into the sea
Dying it red.

I've been awake for too long
I waited too long for nothing to arrive
And now these bags weigh me down
Little dark anchors
Bringing me down into
The murky waters of fatigue
Even in the darkness
I can still see those dark eyes of Mel
Glimmer, like stars shining darkly over me.

Out of reach of Sleep's long hands
Only got scratches and yawns
But tides change and so does time
And time has caught me by the neck
Drowned me like a terrible fish
Maybe now I can close my eyes
And avoid the world and its thought
I've wasted too much time on thinking
Useless emotions.
Too much time crying
But trying all the same

So Sleep,
I greet you like a welcoming friend and
I hope you'll stay around for a bit.
I will remain unlit till you do leave so
I close my eyes.
Fall beneath the waves.
The lights go out.
The moment has come, the end.
There is no finality, only dissolution.

You won't catch me – while running through the rye
I've got nothing to lose - only everything to gain

Maybe I'll end up in miles of traffic waiting for the lights to turn
Like a yellow ladybird, waiting for the red light so to leave
The daily grunt and anxiety of simply going from A to B
My stomach churning at the thought of such a terrific possibility

Alternatively, away from the city, there's the sea.
I do always hold I was a French sailor in a past live.
Even though I've never been to the Côte d'Azur
I'm sure I could find a second home there

But I’ve never doubted the fact I do like my hometown
Could I really sway away from Bray?
I’ve never been down when walking along stony beach
Or over the Dargle at night, swans floating about without care

Learning is synonymous with Leaving
If I am to strive in this life maybe I need a push
To drive myself from my comforts
And feel that rush upon discovery one’s worth
In living than mere surviving.

Although I must admit, this poem is full of ****
These ramblings of single stream of thought
Not dreams per say as I am aware that
They do tear at the seam and unravel quite brilliantly.

No, this is not my dreams and hopes
Or some sad reality check
About how tempting the rope can be
Or what can be done before one is dead

No, these words are quite frankly, just words
They represent my world at this present time
What one can find on my mind
Nothing more, nothing less

There is danger that tomorrow
It could all change
Stranger still, it could all remain the same.

Still with all this said ---

You won't catch me - while running through the rye
I've got nothing to lose - only everything to gain

Intoxicate your feelings.
Leave yourself reeling
With the truth.
Don’t run in fear
Of the sobriety of pure thought.
For it is near.
But it is not something sought,
By you.
But rather something fought.
For how could one bear
Such truths.
Youths know no pain
And you make sure of it.
Drain your brain and hope the truth doesn’t remain.
Maybe it will be misplace and you will not have to face it.
So run, fight and drain.
Do whatever you can to avoid the truth.
And live that little bit longer?

Before I went in the morning
I left you my heart
Not wanting to disturb your rest
I quietly ripped it out of my chest
And stored it in a cardboard box
I'd imagine you'll be quite flummox
Debating whether this was sane or insane
So allow me to plainly explain:
I had to depart from you
But my heart could not bear to be apart
I felt it distressing in my chest
For it loves you so freely and pure
Tearing it out was the only cure.
Don't ask why or how
Just know it is yours now
I don't mean to impose on you
Just propose you care for it
Like one would care for roses
Place it at whatever spot you feel it should grace
Treat it right and it will treat you right
Just please, please don't let it go to waste
It won't last forever - for my heart is finite
But there is still many fine nights to come
So enjoy it while it lasts

The only country
where the people do complain
more than it does rain.

A lantern can only go so high before it must come down.
A smile can only last so long until it becomes a frown.

Happiness eventually turns to sadness.
But the opposite is true too.

A frown can only last so long till it becomes a smile.
A lantern can be reignited.
and it's only a matter of time until you see that lantern floating high in the sky.

I'll get the last train home
I do not wish to outstay my welcome
I really don't mind - I actually like it
Can you like sad and lonely times?
There's an odd feeling when overhearing friends talk
It forms the static beneath my thoughts
As I hold on tight to this solitude
And try to like it as much as it likes me

I am always late.
I wish I wasn't but I am.

My friends, they wait for me -
This time.
But they won't always be there.

The day they stop waiting -
Is the day I stop being late.

Walking the same way as always
But different all the same
Stopped looking
And started seeing
Perceiving for once
Not an ounce of ordinary complex
Was there to look at
I saw extraordinary simple
And that made all the difference.

It was like I never left.
It made me uncomfortable,
How easy it was, how familiar.

There was meaning to it when you strip it down.
Compassion.
Plus the urge not to be sad for a little while.

It's hard to escape the past,
Ghosts linger in this room.
I hear them as you sleep.
Whispering what I already know.

I think I may have to bury you,
Once and for all.
But maybe not right now

Soon I will bury you into this poem as a grave warning to all.

But for now, we do not have to be ourselves in the shadows.

T'as raison,
Sur les saisons.
Le printemps est à l'extérieur.
Mais l'automne est dans mon coeur.

My jaw came unhinged
and spoke **** that made them cringe.
Words like flaming oranges, that singed my mouth
as they fell out at all the wrong time.

O, bring me a comforting wine to soothe the pain.
A sip of blood, I loathe the taste
but drink it to the bitter end.

The unchanging cycle of comfort.
Who dares abort this flawed system of coping?
Copying eveyone else at the party and continue to suffer.

A slient prayer for change goes unheard.
I wouldn't hold my breath,
for Change and Hope have met their deaths.

I have stop dreaming of that beau ideal.
Orange peels remind me of my Achilles' heel.
Sealing my fate.
For once you let go of the steering wheel,
it isn't long till the crash.

There comes that moment of sudden awareness
When you raise your head and see the bigger picture
See the links between everything in your life
And make the connection that makes the most sense to you

My connection will be different to yours
Some will see undeniable proof that the Earth is flat.
Others will see a plan of salvation lay out for them.

It does not matter about absolute Truths.
Chasing such is absurd
Because if no one can see it
Nor perceive it
Then does it really exist?
All people see are their own truths instead
Ascribing meaning to the Chaos

That's the 'real connection between us all
The interconnectness of all things lay in the connections we all make
We are all bending reality ever so slightly to fit the narrative we have crafted for ourselves
Telling ourselves stories to make sense of everything - and we all have stories

I will not seek solutions by a judicious study of the discernable reality, looking for The Truth.
I will act and create my own reality
Until eventually, everything connects.

Don't let me down
Let me keep this crown
Just for a little while
It does make me smile

And with you beside me
I have never felt so free
Then I do now
So lets make a vow
Hand in hand
Promise to never disband

That is all I ask
Such a simple task
I don't want to be needy
Or seem greedy

I don't mean to cause a fuss
All I need is us
So love, lets fly
High in the sky

Please, don't let me down
I would surely frown
And turn blue
Missing you.

And your fingers in mine
A touch devine.
A touch I adore.
A touch no more.

Dear Me,

I got your letter today
Two years late.
I knew it was you from the handwriting
The same barely legible sprawl, half formed letters made in rush
Trying to transcribe your thoughts to page before their gone

You asked a lot question.
I got the impression that you couldn’t find any answers of your own
Sensed the hope as you in turn asked me.
It concerns me how much you yearn
However, I have no solution still.
So sorry for my lack of contribution.
We will have to pass them on again.

If I were you, I’d dismiss that list
That consisted of regrets passed
Yet, you never did forget.
I say let bygones be bygones
Don’t fret over them, making you sweat.
They feel dominating, and absolute
But these are merely antonyms
For what they really are.
Surely you can see pass these phantom pains.
I’ll spare you the apophthegm ‘It gets better’
For you will see yourself

There are some things you cannot save
No matter how hard one tries.
There are some things you shouldn’t save.
You will have to learn when which is which

Hindsight makes all the difference
Might you had it
And not the hindrance of self-pity and lethargy
What happened to yesterday’s energy?
Went into the sprawl and lost it all did we?

Don’t worry, that source hasn’t dried up
Blurry days await you, died I didn’t and neither will you.
Find yourself. Company can help.
You don’t have to be alone.
You always have me
(As narcissistic and cliché as that sounds)

You got to beware of isolation.
Neutrality tends to dull the world
Numbing yourself from the agony
I don’t need to remind you of them
That’s what memory is for.

But do you want to know what I think?
I think the world is great
There is so much possible joy to be found
Love to be shared and happiness to feel.
Books to read, plays to see. Poems to write.
Stay awhile with good friends
And you’ll know what I mean.
Remember our other good friend Edith?
She said La Vie En Rose
There is good in everything,
Forget about half full half empty glasses
Be glad for the glass and what ever is in it.
If You could just wear rose tinted glasses you'll see.
And then look in the mirror and see a clearer image.

What will be will be
And you’re going to be fine
When things get rough and you’ve had enough
Take a break and have a coffee with me.
When you are ready, you can start again.
You won't have all the answers
'Cause you won't need them.
Even then, you’re going to be fine.

Until next time,
Mizpah.

On one of my daily walks
I spotted a little daffodil – perfect and yellow.
I didn’t realize that the season had changed.
Been so busy just trying to survive,
I didn’t notice that it was Spring.

Looking at that little daffodil,
My thoughts went to you - as they do.
And made me feel a little less alone.
Sometimes it is the smallest of things,
That keeps you going, keeps you alive.

As sure as the daffodils are to bloom.
I am sure I will see you again soon.
Until I can safely say hello,
I’ll keep you in my thoughts.
Every time I see some yellow.

Must we lust?
Can we stop
this deadly sin within
from showing on our skin?

What are we even lusting after?
Daughters and sons
and the untouchables.

They say lust
is the root of suffering,
devalues love, devalues you
to nothing more than
merely a lust of the blood
and a permission of the will.

They are right, of course.
But O to be lost in delight, even for just one night.

Then - when we've quenched this lust
- then what?
Move on the next thing that takes our fancy?
or move on with our lives?
what's the point?
We're already guaranteed our own special circle.

Must we lust?
these things we lust
do rust and turn to dust
only to blow away
at just the smallest of gust.
Causing more suffering.

Yet, we lust on.
We trust in lust.
We must lust,
even if it kills us.

I found my marble.
It was hiding behind old books
A place I never thought to look
Up high on the shelf
my little marble, a piece of myself
a clear marble with a black core
but if you squint your eyes
it would appeared to be pure black
I remember rolling it forward and back
up and down my wooden floor
until it got stuck between my door
then a rescue mission would commence
to save my marble I needed great confidence
not to get injured in the process
to my five year old self
this is what being bold was like
so this cycle repeated itself
recycling the same pattern
roll, stuck, save, repeat
but then one day I lost my marble
and then I forgot I lost it
I forgot that small part of my childhood
playing marbles on the wood
I thought it was gone for good
until I found my marble
I realised I didn't forget it at all
it was just stored away
up on a tall shelf
and when I was reunited
the memories began to reload in my brain
restoring a place in time
where losing a marble
was the biggest crime
I time with no bore
Playing with a clear marble
with a black core

I drink in the sweet light
Of the honey coloured moon
as it floats high at midnight
hoping it doesn't leave soon

As I stare at the full moon
The world falls away
and I lose my peripheral vision
bathing in the moon's rays

Sliver beams of light
That reflects off the ocean
And seem to be too bright
to be moonshine

I began to see now
understand how
myths and legends
of the moon began

Egyptian, Aztec, Celtic and Greek
Khonsu, Metzli, Elatha and Artemis
And even poor Starveling
with his dog and thorn bush

All trying to capture the raw beauty
that is the moon and it's light
The rarest jewel of them all
Shining bright through out the night

But all attempts of personification
contain to much complication
to represent
to simplicity of the moon

So I'll stop trying to convey
what I can see
because no matter what I say
will not match what floats above the sea

Wake up from eternal sleep. Wake me up when I need you. Infernal sleep renders you tender. Broken fenders keeps internal clocks from working. Now dusty clogs covered in old dialogue webs from time spent walking in the waking hour when you didn't dream enough. Little dreams, sure, by window sills overlooking shadow hills. But no big dreams, no high hopes, no plans. Until now. Dream is all you do. So silently slumber still you do. I'll have to wait patiently watching you do. Until you tire of dreams, as you did living.

My map seemed bigger when I was young.
Among many things from my youth.
How often did I hung from your tongue?
Believing words to be gospel truth.
I was, as you say, uncouth in sooth.

My map seems smaller now.
The edges closing in on me now.
Black lines crisscrossing me now.
Don't know what to do now.

My map is gone.
And I'm to afraid to move.
I could step on a percussion cap,
gain a concussion or worse.
The unknown is overgrown with death caps
beneath my feet.

My map is gone and I do bemoan it.

And I know it is true - my soul is arriving
Wanting to take hold of this human frame
Shake loose those dark doubts in hiding
That grants the pain that comes with looming shame

Dare I ask - Is this me now taking control
Of the internal workings from being led astray?
Or maybe I am just giving in to the expected role
Accepting the external forces at play.

When my soul arrives then I shall begin again
Born anew sans sin so to be ready
Obtain contentment and maintain
Then it may grow and bloom steady

But I was wrong – my soul is not arriving. It is here.
Yet nothing changes. My dark doubts do not disappear.

I feel like I am on a train
Watching life speed past me
I only get a glimpsed of the view
Before it is replace with another

I pass busy cities and quiet country sides
These pretty images guide me
And provide me with distractions
A bona fide offer to occupy my mind

Then the train would go through a tunnel
And I would be surround by darkness
Out the window, I am faced with my reflection
A grim ghost, staring into my soul

Head filled with the meaningless
That when I have nothing to distract myself
I am forced to dwell on my thoughts
All my misery pushed away returns

Attracted like moths to the light of my reflection.
They flitter about, rapidly gnawing my clothes and skin.
Who knew misery had such a voracity.
My reflection only looks on with apathy.

Thankfully, this encounter is only brief.
And the train comes out of the tunnel
The sudden light banishes my reflection
And I can continue to look out at the view

Watch as I speed passed it
Without thought nor worry
For the moths have scurry away
Leaving me in peace, for today

Although this train is on a straight line
It feels like it is going in circles
Darkness seekers must be the conductor of this train
As it won’t be long till I return to the tunnel

For that restless wanderer there is no common ground

On Sundays - when family rest and friends play - he has no where to go.

He hath ears and hears all
That is more painful than mere sight alone
Conversations that he will never partake in again

Through this suffering may wisdom come
Or else eternal punshiment for the restless wanderer

My best laid plans
Are often ephemeral
I attend many a funeral
On raining days with cloudless sky
Soundless mourners try
To hold it together.
Ignore the water gather
On the coffee coloured coffin.
Drops drip down drumming
A hollow, empty sound.
That makes me wonder
What really is inside the coffin.

I fear me
Because I do
Not know me

Who is me
When others
Are not around?

I can be others
The son, the worker
The old friend, the lover
These are roles
I can control well

But when you
Strip the actor
Of his roles
what is he?

There is just me
And that scares me

Mystery are the prongs of jealousy
When struck rings and sings like a song.
Mystery still is why such innate sea of emotions
Overcomes me in such a fashion.
What does this say about me?

The prongs rings out -
I doubt -
I've ever felt this wrong before.
The prongs rings out -
I know -
Singing of everything I want
But will never had

I cannot change the song
Or tune these prongs
To another key
As the ringing is too strong

And it's been too long
Since I've heard sweet silence
All I have is neat violence
In the form of a forlorn song.

He stopped sleeping one night, alone
Keeping his eyes awake, watch
As he lies vacantly, treading
Through tough thoughts, though
Knowing less by knowing, more
Memories fleeting by, now
He begins to itch, finally
Fingers twitching like moth's wings, fast
Scratching at sin scar skin, alone
Until he sleeps forever, more?

and this is my reality

the promises i brake
the choices i don't make

i blur the lines
to keep my mind straight
losing myself in others
when i don't want to be me

right now i am smoking outside
with these strangers disguised as friends
these cigarettes aren't for me
but for them

i have lost myself along the way
i haven't been me for awhile now

and that is my reality

the real truth is
i want to feel
i want to cry

the real truth is
i am lone
but surround by friends I'd die for

it used to be so neat, so nuclear
now it's hard to see clear

i am a bundle of habits
of sins, of needs
your favorite culprit

i should go
so i can be good
i should go
but not forever
(god no)

i need to try
i need to cry

This is a pure hurting that can't be avoided.
It demands to be felt.
Pulsing waves of sadness radiating from within.

It washes over me.
It floods my body.
It cleanses my mind.

And in the morn -
I am reborn.