The seasons keep changing
She said
Green slowly turning red
Quickly falling as nature bled
I want to catch them, keep these leaves from
spinning about her head
A pretty, delicate dance our mother holds
calling us to get fed

Fruit of the spirit
Father preached
Stretch up and pluck your pick
A peach for each
Keeps the grey night at bay
Avoiding a breach
Fight the seasons or look up and pray for
Earth can never be impeached

The seasons continue to pass
Sister sang
Clouds roll through the grass
Sun shines dim as thunder clangs
I bring a basket through the fields
Out of the rain, slam the barn with a bang
Sit down and nourish
The seasons change but our seeds
Will flourish

We're just soaring on this earth.
Without course, a floating asteroid,
with no worth, it's our planet of birth.
Of meaning, all there is, is void.
Always wandering to some north,
pretending life of merit is not devoid.

I'm not writing full of depression,
it's just the same old realisation.
Don't wanna die, just a bit whatever,
waiting for a change in this monotony.
Tired of waking up, wish I'd sleep forever
or that something would entertain me.

Be who you want to attract,
Before you start "searching" for the right person,
Be the right person,
Find yourself,
Be comfortable with who you are,
Find happiness within you,
If someone is the only basis of your joy,
I'm afraid,your joy might be a mirage.

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane

Every minute I am hoping
For the next,trying to be the
Best to outshine the rest,
I am fed with too much
Lies,I can't digest.
They say i jest because i
Aim at the crest.
Remember we came as
A guest.

Am I growing or is the world becoming smaller?
Where did I leave my childhood behind and when was it really over?
Is there a way to predict the future or does it completely depend on our choices?
Am I the one to calm my thoughts or is it out of my control?
Why did they do this to me and should I be sorry for their actions?
Do I try too hard or do I just not care enough?
Am I too less or too much?
Why did I never get to say goodbye when I knew it would happen?
What is the reason for the birds to leave south and come back again if it'll just get cold later?
How do I rescue myself before it is too late and will it ever be too late?
Did I hit rock bottom or can I continue to dig further down?
Is there a specific purpose for me in this world or are some of us perhaps not destined to anything?
Are we walking in circles or are we actually moving forward if not backwards?
Does it get better with time or do I just get better at swallowing the pain like it was bitter medicine?
Will this end and how did it even begin?
Why do the covers feel too hot but the world around me too cold?
Am I scared of monsters or people who pretend to be angels?
Do I get deceived to believe or is the feeling about this real?
Do I want to go back or is it worth to keep moving?
Am I scared or am I excited?