Knees buckled under his huge frame.
Words emerging from the man in red were
inaudible, indistinct
unable to focus or navigate direction,
incapable to comprehend
or follow verbal instruction.
In spite of the instruction
the little man still contributed.

“Simon Michael”

Words wafted around the courtroom,
unfamilier, verilly a different language.
He felt like one would who was
surrounded by a foreign tongue.
He could not comprehend,
grasp the meaning of this slow motion droning.
He could however see the time.

The clock on the kitchen wall.
Twelve minutes past three.
He was heading outside,
escaping,
he had to get away from her.

Perpetual
Constant
Bellowing
On and on and on and on.

Arms raised
for protection
from constant
slapping and punching.

At thirteen minutes past three
she lay in a crumpled heap
on the hard stone tiles
of the cold kitchen floor.
Her face was split in two
encircled in graduating crimson.

One minute to change a life.
One minute victim,
now, Assassin.
One minute of blind anger
and a life taken!

“You will be taken from here
to a place of execution.
You will be hung by the neck
until you are dead.”

I looked into her eyes

the deep electric blue.

She gave me her brightest smile.

She was my muse.

Her light brown hair

was flowing back.

She looked to the sky

which was pitch black.

She pointed to a constellation

and nudged me.

Our love was not infatuation.

It had to last for eternity.

Every time we hugged

she'd whisper my name.

seeing her in her mirth

was my happy place.

We were eccentric

in our own way.

She made me nostalgic

I couldn't let her go way.

Her laughter still echoes in my ears.

She made me face my biggest fear.

I looked into her eyes

the deep electric blue.

They were lifeless.

She had stayed past her curfew.

Her light brown hair

was soaked in her own blood.

I held her hand and silently weeped

nothing could break me

yet I felt incomplete.

I hugged her for the last time

her parched lips didn't say my name

somewhere down the line

I was to be blamed.

As I coughed up the
Ash that was Once
Love,
Commitment,
Trust,
My lips black with
Charcoal embers
My throat raw as
Burning
Suffocating
Texture
Like acid, as I expelled
The remnants of my
Heart,
You had spilt liquid
Then lit the flame
Unto my love,
It didn't need words
In his embrace,
Then the kiss in front of my eyes,
My love had been built
In time, I loved you so much
But with not even a word,
You burnt away my heart
Ignited,
Stoked,
Burnt,
Away in moments
That was built off love.
Your tears fell
Many hit upon the ground,
But they were like acid
Scorching the ground,
Fake emotions
Distrustful touch
I love you so much
But know my heart is but embers,
That I expel with each breath,
My lips now black with the charcoal of love..

As I look up in the moonlight
at the wonders I can see,
could it be, perhaps that somebody is
looking right back down at me?

Have they got me in their sights right now?
Are they studying our race?
Are they deciding what to do with us,
'cause they think we're a disgrace?

Are they analysing human-kind
and are they figuring us out?
Do they think they understand
what people really are about?

Perhaps they use their birds eye view
and watch us scorch this earth?
Or maybe we're just an experiment
and they've watched since planets birth?

Can they see so many dying
in countries off afar?
Can they see us drain resources
and put them in a car?

Can they witness the atrocities
we inflict upon our own
as we enter into wars with them
and destroy each others homes?

Can they plainly see the poor who die
because they cannot get the aid?
Do they think this idiotic
when they compare how some are paid?

Do they think that we are watching
as our creatures become extinct?
Can they see why there are shortages
and that it's people who are linked?

Maybe they can see the answer?
Perhaps they followed the trace
and the answer for the rest of them
is to destroy the human race?

Perhaps like us mere mortals
who will just take the vermin out.
Perhaps to them we are the vermin
and that's been proved to them no doubt?

Maybe we are on probation
whilst they figure what course to take?
Maybe that are trying to see
if we figure out our mistake?

Or perhaps I am just looking up
and there is nothing looking back
and the world is never going to
get itself back onto track?

We all know of the horrors
of the world that cause such strife,
were hunger and disease
initiate often in life.

Disasters and war
creating havoc far away
where terrorists reach out their swords
so Governments might sway.

Where life is so easily removed
with just one single swipe
and those who have the might
of force can solve it with air strikes.

Whilst the human population
can initiate such hate.
I like to think that together
we could make a world so great.

The creature that is "MAN"
have proven what they can achieve
and if this could be directed,
then perhaps we might believe.

Believe that all together
things could begin to resolve.
Perhaps the problems of the past
would finally resolve.

Perhaps the poorer of this earth
could have enough to drink and eat.
Perhaps we wouldn't have to battle
with those kids from down the street.

We have the gift of innovation,
so let us have the sense for peace.
Lets fill the world with happiness
and gain of some release.

It could be something we could do
maybe it's perfectly feasible
all that needs to come up front
is for people to be reasonable.

Our lives would be preferable
if our thoughts could rearrange.
Things could be much better
if we all did dream for change.

The brains are all around us
and the talent is no dream
so together we could do it
and could make our world supreme.

Perhaps I'm just a dreamer
who often wishes for the best.
But to make this a reality
we should not ever rest.

The plagiarist is somebody
who loves the high regard.
Talent less and lazy and
lack a sense of working hard.

Its easier to copy,
take credit for another's trade
because they lack accomplishment,
it makes them feel afraid.

Afraid, because of inadequacy
in what they do or say
they want the credit of their peers
without a price too pay.

Incompetent and shallow
might cause these beasts to steal.
They like to boast of mastery
but of course this is not real

Shameful in their thievery
could never achieve the work they stole
but perhaps when they're pretending
this helps to make them feel whole.

This should not make them happy.
This should not make them glad.
In fact it should reiterate
that they are really, very sad!