These Gnarled Roots
Withered from time
Will forever control
Those shoots from reaching
The Shine.

Thick and stubborn
Taking everything of
Worth.
Pillaging the earth of
its fruit
All "in the name of the
Shoot".

We are told
The shoot can't be
A shoot
Without the
Root.
But what about
The "root" of
A problem?

So, little shoot
Chew on the bitter root.
Chew and
Survive.

As we age
Our minds grow and
Our bodies decay;
But, at the end of the day,
They wish it were
The other way.

You've always meant more to
I,
Than I to
you.
And that's what's led us
Askew.

I am no source
of poetry or art;
Music or prose.
I am not your one true love or
Your spring of inspiration.

Sensible,
"Down to earth",
Trustworthy-
Normal.

My passions and
Ambitions are unanimous
to the average class.

Anything I am that's
Good
Is reflected in the surrounding
Mud.

For in the end
it will be the belief
in my
potential
and the hatred
of the
conventional
that kills me.

It is only
when one
is sick and
devoid of it
does one
realise that
all the world's
a love song
And the people
star-crossed lovers.

I gather friends like I do books-
Some for their beautiful composition
And Artistry,
Some for common philosophy,
Some for intellectual or
Artistic stimulation,
And others for the warmth of nostalgia they bring.

The rest,
I plan to donate to the charity shop.

Promising words not
Followed by action is like
*** without the attraction-
******* useless.

She sat in the old armchair,
In the winter of her life.
The last of her sisters;
A once comfortable wife.

With bony white finger
She traced the pattern of her chair;
Withered from age
Like the strands of her hair.

For her kids had come and gone.
Her fears, she passed them on.
An ok husband she had;
A time long ago, a time not so bad.

'Love' and spouse,
Kids and house
Were the choices she made.
Unbeknownst to her,
The passion she had
Was bound to fade.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That man in the corner,
At the end of his days.
A bottle of whiskey;
A familiar haze.

His cold empty house
Devoid of all life.
Followed his heart;
Never took he a wife.

Passion and success
(which he had to confess)
Were great (for awhile).
These were the choices that he made.
Unbeknownst to him,
His desire for love would never fade.

At the end of the night
All wrapped up in warm covers and plight,
He contemplated the answers to his
Internal fight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tell unto me
Which one was right?

The people say we
Are a force to be reckoned with.

Malleable minds
Keeping up with the
Times.

A comfortable content,
Encouragingly hell-bent.

Let's change lives
Or even just one.
Right
before this feels done.

A force to be reckoned with,
You and I.

Let's set something afloat,
Before it's time
For me to
Rip out
Your
Throat.

Let us listen to love songs
And pretend they are about us.
Let us have nothing to do
And not make a fuss.

Let us confuse each other
With an advance and retreat,
And at the end of the night
Let us not be complete.

Let us talk lovingly,
One on one.
Let us not in large groups,
As I am no fun.

Let us never know
How the other one feels;
But perhaps one day,
Over wine and take-away meals.

What did I do
To end up
Liking you?

For he liked her,
And she he;
But it had to end.
They both were in love
With melancholy.

That
Self-Made
Noose
Is
Living proof
Of our
Existence.

O come in time;
Bring the wine.
A friend you'll be,
A friend to me.

Or take your time;
Forget the wine.
Just stay with me,
Just bleed.

T'is unfair for those
Who have never felt morose or
Uncomposed
To blame or shame the lives
that have been.
For it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

For a few choose to leave this earth,
But most of us are dead from birth.
For either way it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

We should salute those who do it,
For they have gone through with it.
Us here waiting, waiting.
Waiting still, waiting to get ill.
For it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

If I were to make that choice,
Do not proclaim what I could have been,
Or that you never could have seen
The pain.
'Cause you could, and you did.
For it's anyone's choice,
Leave them be.
I wonder would you be the same
If it were me?

O come and sing,
Sing with me.
Sing with me,
Our age old plea:

"Tomorrow I will be free,
Tomorrow I will be
Me".

Our love is like
An exaggerated metaphor-
Good, but I can't take it anymore.

I love you,
You don't love me too.
You love me,
I am free.
(Rhyming scheme AA, BB)

Time to rehash that metaphor,
now that you are sleeping on my floor;
Each day I love you more and more.

Please stop writing things like this?
You terrible bore.

Tick-tock
Went the clock
The day I wanted to stop.

The pitter-patter,
Chitter-chatter.
The walks,
The squaks
And the all 'important talks'
The day I wanted to stop.

Intrusion, confusion, pollution
And social 'evolution'
The day I wanted to stop.

The swearing, the caring.
The 'how are you faring?'
The day I wanted to stop.

The girl, the boy.
That unexpected smile.
Kindness flowing
Kept me going;
If only for awhile,
On the day I wanted to stop.

Your silence is a kind of
Grief,
From words that were left
Unsaid.
But when swept in a drunken
Heat,
The words of then are bled.
××××××××××××××××××××××××××
I know you more;
Yet, still I don't.
There's more for me to see
But keep your mouth and desires
Shut;
Do not be familiar to me.