Maybe it takes someone stronger
Machine guns equipped with a smile
Still, I ride on the wings of the littlest things
To try to forget for a while

All good words and pretty poems will fade eventually.
Like a mountain laughing at the river below.
Like a beautiful face you see for a second on the sidewalk.
Like a blue star glimmering in the sky, that's probably already gone.
All good words and pretty poems will fade eventually.
Like true love.
Like a good song to keep us going through the day.
Like our personal heroes to make us feel like were perfectly fine.
Like a letter in a drawer you were to bring to a secret naked lover.
All goods and words and pretty poems will fade eventually.
Like a great big whale dancing across the sea.
Like an endless forest full of life and chaos.
Like an aspiring poet writing this poem.
All good words and pretty poems will fade eventually.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Be the change you want to see
Try not to judge, let others be
The rain will stop, the storm shall pass
Pleasure is pleasing and love can last

Set up for sorrow, it's hard to see
Open your eyes, switch off your tv
Put down the remote and venture outside
Get out in to nature where healing resides

Turn off your phone, log off the net
You'll be surprised with the solace you get
Write a poem, cook a nice meal
Declare your love, see how it feels

Put away the plastic, stop doing your hair
Go back to basics, even though it's rare
Laugh at your troubles, hug it out
Why are you frowning, what's that all about
A sign of the times, the information age
Escape from the trap, break out of your cage

Tell me now, how do you feel
Please keep it up, do we have a deal
Memories last but gadgets do not
Live your life fully, run from the rot

tonight i slept with
my windows wide open.
now, i am part of this world.
i feel it, it doesn't feel me.

400 000 people in this city
have their own warm
incandescent light.
my friend was crying
on the floor of her house;
all dark.
one lady was listening loud
to the song that defined
her life.
but all i heard that night
were the sounds of peace,
coming from the shaky leaves,
the sleepy urban dogs
and the fast red motorcycles.