When did the world get colour?
did it happen overnight?
In all the older photographs
The sky is black and white
The trees are grey, the leaves aren't green
All the cars are grey as well
when did the world get colour?
Is there someone who can tell?

black and white in photos
black and white in all we did
One kept to another
Even when one was a kid
Don't mix them, it's immoral
It's a secret we keep hid
When did the world get colour?
Did God just lift the lid?

It's funny how with colour
all the photos that we like
Are the ones that show we're happy
The one's in black and white
We were posing looking silly
But were content in who we were
When did the world get colour?
Can you answer me please, sir?

Colour brings together
Lots of things, it shows our heart
Black and White,it is divisive
It's always driving things apart
There is an issue with one's colour
A racist gene beneath the skin
why can't the world be full of colour?
The way it's always been

black and white in photos
black and white in all we did
One kept to another
Even when one was a kid
Don't mix them, it's immoral
It's a secret we keep hid
When did the world get colour?
Did God just lift the lid?

All along it was there.. The reason on why you and me are here..  The image was in the palm of our hands.. The lines there are the beginning and end to which we never truly start or end..  But some have learned to read the lines in their hands..  Thus transcending beyond this life.. The soul map of the hands..

Behind her all the stars fell..
the sky was full of wishes..
but all i wanted was her..
everyone one else can have the wishes..

I have read too many poems
From those of you who want to die.

I read the words, I hear your voice,
Yes, I hear your desperate cry,
I am torn and heart-sick at your plight;
Yet, I have to ask you why?
For when you close your eyes forever,
The hurt and pain won’t go away,
It crawls inside all those you love,
Where it kills them every day.

Were you jilted by a lover?
Are you an addict, beaten down?
Or is it that you don’t fit in
On the ‘right’ side of the town?
Does no one understand you?
Or “It doesn’t matter anyway”,
Because when you try to tell us,
We listen not to what you say?

No, I cannot feel the pain you bear
But I understand it’s real
Is there anything that I can do,
To try and help you heal?
Do you want someone to hold your hand?
Do you want a shoulder for your tears?
Do you want someone to scream at you?
Or hold you tight and calm your fears?

Do you need a teacher?  Or a coach?
Or a banker for your debt?
Do you want a job that’s interesting,
Or any job that you can get?
Do you want to make somebody proud?
Or find someone to share your life?
Or do you only want a yes-man
To hand you the pills, give you the knife?

You may say, “Shut up old man! –
Don’t want to listen to your ****.
You’ve always had it easy,
You always won, you never had to quit.
You don’t have a ******* clue.”
And you’re right I probably don’t
But if you keep it all inside,
No one will, and I sure won’t.

Please seek some help, I beg of you
You each have talents, and a heart
There’s a remedy or cure somewhere
For the pain that’s tearing you apart
I’m not a doctor, or a shrink
But I’ve seen suicide up close,
It hurts and devastates the ones
Who loved the victim most.
Phil Lindsey  6/8/15
                     **1-800-273-8255

Soon, the masterpiece will come.
Shh, soon you’ll fall asleep,
And maybe in your dreams discover
Words and lines to keep.

For the darkness is a tunnel
Straight to Heaven’s door,
There a thousand poets wait for you -
A thousand gone before,
Before their works were finished,
Before their jobs were through
Now creation of the masterpiece
Is solely up to you.

Hear their spirit, poet!
Listen very close.
You’ve been chosen as the protégé
But do not brag or boast
For the masterpiece consumes you,
Like hell-fire, burns you up,
Leaves you thirsting for some water
And reaching for a cup,
That crumbles when you grab it.
While the water turns to dust,
But still you keep on reaching, reaching,
You must, you must, you must.

Feel their breath, oh poet!
Cool upon your skin,
Though sweat and perspiration
Reveal the torment trapped within.
For the masterpiece consumes you,
Like a pen that’s out of ink,
Leaves you reaching for a pencil,
And needing time to think,
But both ends are erasers
Now your passion turned to lust
So still you keep on reaching, reaching,
You must, you must, you must.

For the darkness is a tunnel
A tunnel straight to Hell
There a thousand poets wait for you -
At a long abandoned well,
Before their works were finished,
The waters all ran dry
There will be no masterpiece
If all the poets die.

Shh, soon the masterpiece will come.
Shh, soon you’ll fall asleep,
And a thousand poets after you
Will search for words and lines to keep.
Phil Lindsey 6/9/15

Where the candles illuminate your face..
Where my dreams get the illumination just right..
I see you there for a moment for an eternity..
As my dream candles reflect in your eyes..
You light up my darkness with your luminescent soul..