Do you think they will ever care?
the rich and powerful and the big banks
own us with their guns and tanks
will they care when we are gone?

they siphon our money through a straw
Just so they can get richer through the profits of war
on everyone including the poor and disabled
the immigrants and working class able

We are slaves to the rich in this so called Christian country
full of those who would spout forth
I speak of my discourse
but wasn’t it Jesus who said
that it is as difficult as a camel to go through the eye of a needle
as a rich person to go to heaven
the hour is getting late it’s way past quarter past eleven
Or is the doomsday clock wrong
we live on knife edge don’t tell us we are strong
In being poor
heaven can wait for our souls
we need to be cared for...

The Black ice in my heart forms a blade
Obsidian coloured like a black hole
My soul is cut
To ribbons
Will I ever be forgiven?
Girl with many faces
Who were you at the start?
The girl in fire,
with my splintered heart
In your hands
Did I break it for you
As a lover would do
Because I love you
I am enslaved by our story
Our story
Which I have hidden
To protect us both.

I’d pay the price for one night with you
an arm, a leg, I love you through and through
like tissue paper my tears soak through and through
I would steal the sun
and hide it away.
Your eyes are diamonds
They hide a glow that only I know
your words wrap me in silk
your touch a thrill
can’t sit still
for butterflies
in you a flame that cannot die.

Sometimes
The world goes on behind my window
I stare out into the suns glare
I wrap myself around my thoughts
and all that I have sought
do I still care?

Sometimes
I am broken beggar
trying to get a leg up
sometimes I want to say
words of meaning
am I still dreaming?

Sometimes
my hearts soft like paper
sometimes it’s hard like a diamond
fashioned with pressure and heat
sometimes I play my songs on repeat
hoping to make my way to someone’s smile on the street.

Sometimes
I bow to the dark
sometimes I look to the stars sparkling in the sky
sometimes I want to die
but I realise life is short
and I love my friends to much to make this life end
so my epitaph will say I loved until my world drifted away
but I left you my words and that’s more than ok.

Tears well up in my eyes
I dream of being a bird to fly away
To transform with angels wings
But I have no song to sing
The voice, your voice
Weighs me down
Every day wearing a painful frown
The tears of a clown
Is how my father felt
I knelt and prayed
For it all to go away
But in the cold light of day
Cold reality is that I don't know
whether any of this is real
Delusions, confusions
Flowing, constant uncertainty
Knowing what you would say
You always say I hate you so much
Pessimism has always been my crutch
I loved you like a songwriter loves his piano
The answer is you don't give a **** though
You were my muse and I have lost all but your voice
Which torments me in every choice I make
Mighty oaks break, their branches tear and shatter
Do I really matter or are my words just noise that clatter
I thought I once met Jesus on my 16th birthday it was my wish
Can I fish my own soul out of sea
Still I yearn for you girl with many faces
Many expressions but I have spoken to you and you have words so few
I cannot escape all the torment you have put me through
and yet I would move my aching soul and bones
Just to sit and talk to you on your throne.

Drink from a disheveled
unlevelled cup
there’s no money
no loot it’s been stolen
siphoned away
By billionaires tax havens
and tax breaks.

Dread and decay
drove democracy away
corporations own us all
we live in a brand
and we are brandwashed
squashed underneath
advertising signs
that shine neon.

They will soon
charge us for peeing on
the ground while *******
what year is this?
next week if we are unlucky
so plucky rebels
Pray tell us
how to change this nightmare dystopian future
where the rich eat the poor
and we can’t see further than are pants draw
because we are so blind and ignorant
we think this is bliss
but we missed the part
where the handmaids tale imitates art
as America goes back 50 years in attitudes to the past
and we screen cast
Utopian visions which aren’t going to happen
as our futures end
eaten by the kraken of capitalism.

You are more radiant than the sun
my words lean upon
you like gravity pushes us down
but in those sounds
are the meanings that ground
my very existence
and life
if anything relates to you
it tends to send me into a dreaming state
Scheming late
to win you at all costs
in this game of life
which trees survive frosts
to bear fruit
like actions
you are more than a distraction
you are my everything
and yet I keep coming back
and I am taken
my heart is awakened not bored
I live aboard your wishes
which dance like dandelion seeds
on the wind
I love you I love you I love you lots.