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..

Oh what hopeful prayer i send to thee,
In this my hour of misery.
A belligerent death has done so wrong,
A wind has blown with brothers gone.
A face not mine in reflection i see,
and mirrors now they frighten me.
A voice of better times sowing mines,
and my eyes kept missing the growing signs.
The sight of razors such a heavy weight
this stretch of rope and a growing fate
It takes fifteen feet or five minutes of blood
the thoughts come on like a raging flood
so I raise my sword to fight this more,
though one day life will lose this war.

Derelict, decrepit,
Just a waste of space
A relic from a different age
One who'd run the race

An eyesore
Gives the place a name
Represents a time long past
It's no longer in the game

A stiff wind would take it down
It's not worth a single dime
Take it down, demolish it
It's enemy is time

A single pane of glass is left
Cracked from side to side
In fact it's cracked the whole way through
As tall as it is wide

The others are all boarded
Keeping out nothing at all
The only thing the wood does
Is act as canvas to them all

Graffiti covers every space
That is left standing here
It used to be a factory once
That made a local well known beer

BUT ON THE OTHER SIDE....

Inside the building squatters sit
Derelicts, wastes of space
The building is their home for now
Away from the rat race

Eyesores, hidden in plain sight
Humanity at it's worst
That is the image given them
Because of addictions thirst

A stiff wind would take them down
So thin and frail are they
Protected by a building that
A storm could blow away

One side thinks it awful
The other, thinks it's good
An eyesore and a fragile shell
Of old bricks and glass and wood

But...for one plain window
Separating worlds apart
A crack runs through the window
It is the buildings heart.

Stranger things have happened
Than what you’re about to hear
So I swear that this is all the truth
And it happened close by here
A young girl lost her way one night
She was working midnight shift
When a stranger saw her wandering
And he offered her a lift.
She was trusting and she climbed right in
To the black sedan he drove.
He asked where she was headed
She replied, “To Shelter Grove.”
The driver said, “I’ll take you there.
Just tell me where to go.”
She said, “Around the corner, there’s a hidden drive,
You’ll want to take it slow.
There’s a gate, but it will open, and
A clearing just ahead.
There’s a gravestone with your name on it.
I’m afraid, Sir, you are dead.”

The driver turned and stared at her
She stared back with evil grin
He was terrified but didn’t know
The danger he was in.
He reached out to grab her slender arm
But he closed his fist on air
Somehow she had vanished
She simply wasn’t there.
Now his heart was pounding loudly
He could hardly drive the car,
He used his phone to call his wife who said,
“We’re all wondering where you are!
You see your brother called an hour ago
Your father passed today
They said that he was sleeping when
The angels carried him away.
Your family signed the papers, and
He’s at the funeral home
I never heard of it before,
Some place called Shelter Grove.”

That night I had an awful dream
The wandering girl’s to blame,
She said, “I was sent to take your father,
But I mixed up the name.”  
Phil Lindsey  6/5/15

It was torn and slightly tattered
storms and wind had battered
The symbol....
The tree was strong and silent
As the winds tore through real violent
At the symbol.....

Look around you'll see it
There are many there to see
A simple yellow ribbon
Tied tight right around a tree
They're there for every soldier
Who is fighting to be free
They are waiting for their safe return
They are there for you and me

That yellow ribbon hangs on tough
To the tree bark that is worn and rough
A symbol...
On the day that they come home
Show them they were not alone
Show the symbol...

It's a simple ribbon on a tree
That shows them that we care
A yellow ribbon, nothing more
We're proud that they are there
When our soldiers come on home
I think that it would just be fair
To let them cut it down
And give them a ribbon they can wear
....a symbol