In a mess, I am;
Get out of it, I wish;
The heavy heart kindled a desire,
Immature and unfathomed;
The earth feels comfortable;
Gravity plunges my feet into the soil,
Roots sprout,
Tangled in the soil;
Rapunzel would have been proud!
With my feet now strong,
I lift my heavy heart,
And gossamer it felt.
I sprout wings;
My feet holds me down;
I cut away my roots frantically;
Bleeding but free,
I fly high till the clouds heal me;
Am nothing but a fish in the sea,
but waters, I need no more.

Her petals offered colour to me
I took part in a dance that I lead
Holding my arms the colours swayed
Filling in a sense of something
We drew circles in the air
Creating swirling streams
of bright blues and phosphorescent pinks
Creating spectacular paintings
Of finger and brush
For none to see but for all to wish

Deep within an evil grew.
Unspeakable but true.
A power so strong it seemed
to pull heavens into your fist.
Fury was its name
And hatred was spawned.
Burn them bridges
and bomb them idiots.
The world could do without some ignorance.
you fall back from your delusion
And realize, that the one next to you would then have to burn too.
The dark subsides,
Supplanted by something funny.
Powerless, you seemed in fury
Hopeful, you felt in love.

In my head
I'll tell you
The deepest secrets I possess
How the colour of the rainbow is biased

In my head
I'll show you
The awesome things I want to do
The skyscraper I'm building, for you

In my head
I'll whisper
A song familiar,
one whose tune you'll never hear
With a drop so deep
Each pulse, another beat

An amalgam of thoughts
So arranged
That it makes no sense
Is what my mind looks like
In essence.

Colours I see
Wrap it up into a tree
And give it to you for eternity
For, In my head
I have plenty to give
and plenty to see..

Waves of desolation,
foamy and clear

Burying the good tides
of a yesterday, once held dear.

They drift in, like a sweet smell
Gentle intoxicating licks of a tongue insincere

In a drunken stupor,
he succumbs to loneliness
A powerful poison,
A sweet escape.

Cells die as I refuse to let go
of the burning muse who doesn't know
My desire to boil away
By a fleeting sense of what could be
I'm fine with it if I knew
That it's not part of a plan
But of a poem incomplete

When whispers are not enough,
I wonder why.
Have we become too deaf
To listen to those sounds
that our heart used to make;
Subtly telling us to keep calm
‘Cos he can’t keep up.

It’s over now, he is quite
Knowing you don’t care
you were querulous,
searching for answers,
leaving a trail of mess behind
When all you had to do was,
Listen.