We both read our scripts,
but we're not on the same page.
You and I are just actors
who treat life as the stage.

We rehearse our lines,
but they're not what we mean,
for once lets break character
and call cut on this scene.

We could steal the show
if we rewrite the play
and end the charade
of this macabre matinee.

We've reached the finale,
there's no encore after all.
This is our shot,
our last curtain call.

I have oceans of emotions
but my mind is numb
These shallow lines of confines
my words have become

I've been strong for so long
but it's made me weak
And these screams in my dreams
are the whispers I speak

©

On new year eve when the sun on the west hung low
And the east wind on dead leaves blow
I paced to the yellow woods
And sat on my favourite wood
Where not long after I fell into a trance
Not of any divine trace
But a dream from my person
And I saw a vision backwards:
365 days ago, not long ago
I was on the same spot
For the familiar new year ritual
That of writing my aspirations
My fickle fingers wrote my dreams on the hard earth
On the passing sands of time
But no traces of them was left
Perchance carried by the furious wind
To the store house of wasted words
I continued in the vision backwards
When I heard a voice from me saying
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart "
I woke from my short trance
When the crimson moon was awake above
And the night owl hooting echoed through the woods
Left the woods without performing my ritual
Because i heard a vision backwards
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart."

There are places I want to take you
Reed-filled
Sky-bound
Where clouds fall upon land
Empty
Held by waves

There are places I want to take you
Tidal flats of mud and glasswort
Trees knitted by sea-winds
Blossomed with lichen
Silent and rusted

There are places I want to take you
Where wood turns to stone
And stones roll
Under a sky
Embracing the shingle

Here I will show you how the sea flows in my veins
How heaven catches my heart
How you might love me

When 'the few' get more and even more
When 'the more' get less and even less
Until all that's left is just 'not enough!'

When the law becomes brazenly unjust
When the poor are trampled underfoot
Until “justice!” becomes hallowed text

When Free-thought is replaced by bigotry
When dissenters are silenced violently
Until 'liberation!' is whispered angrily

When enough there are with “nothing to loose”
It is then that a revolution becomes possible
It is then that a revolution becomes inevitable

Click, click… how many ‘likes’ have I got?
Does it really matter when the day is done?
How long can it inflate my ego?
How big a number will it take?

Is it not better, that I be not bitter
If I get just one ‘like’?
Is it not better, if the one ‘like’ I get
is moved for the better?

There was once a jolly old lady, who loved her life,
She'd seen much in life and loved to brag about it.
One day the doctor said “You have terminal cancer!
Not much to do but say your goodbyes forever”

This lady loved her life and would not concede,
So she searched near and far to find a cure.
With great difficulty she found a man who mixed
Some herbs that killed her encroaching death.

Restored to her vibrant self, she began to boast:
“I snatched my life from the very jaws of death!”
Not soon after, on her way to boast to a friend
In her car; an accident! And she was very **dead!