Preech

Preech Mar 2013

I know a co-dependant who is so defensive of his friendship,
there is no pretence, he never pretends.
When he lends a tender hand this man is tentative,
attentive without an incentive other than to mention
that he meant it when he said
he’d never think to jump the brink of a sinking ship.
He has a model road and rolls like a novel role model
no bottles to use as a hovel for sorrows, no hollow morals
he swallowed pride and spat it back for you to borrow.
Follow this man tomorrow;
see him be in nothing but his being,
seeing the world adapt its stance ‘til it’s trapped in a dance with the devil.
Bent metal, false hands, fleeing the scene he seems to be screaming.
A man of mettle, not faltering, not altering himself for an altar,
he offers himself just as he is.

Preech Mar 2013

Imprint in Mud

The land makes me uncomfortable;
each crooked branch hooking plants
and their stance stands to make me
look at man.

Each strand of hair waves at a blade of grass,
feeding off the dead.
Seething in my head
instead of screaming into the mass of land.

Dead field; tombstones protruding,
next wheel in a loom only using
hands to make a blanket
to cover the globe.

Against a grey tree, lately
it seems that I will be little more than
a flayed piece of meat making
an imprint in the mud.

Stood shivering, simmering blood,
red face on black cloud.
Nothing still, killing time
while time does likewise.

Broken angels and idols of old
hold idle fables that watch me grow cold.
Names erased in the moss,
lost in the face of the earth.

Preech Mar 2013

Talking with Yesterday

I met Yesterday,
gained today and was told to do with it what I wish,
for Tomorrow is coming.

I met Yesterday,
learnt from it, parts of me yearned for it,
but Tomorrow is coming.

Tomorrow brings me Today,
from Yesterday,
who tells me to keep on living.

My life-cycle is a cyclical life.

Preech Mar 2013

Optimist.

I am a ceiling fan.

Preech Mar 2013

The Mirror

See me.  Hear me. Converse.
Generally I hate people.
Maybe if I got to know you,
I could hate you too?
I despise various types of self,
15, 16 through 19.
If life is a high court I judge all
for their discrepancies.
Procrastinators need now,
believers need reality,
liars need honesty but honestly
we’re too sensitive for honesty;
speak or hear.  So I speak clear right here.
Hear right. Arrogance needs insults,
the self-righteous need to take a look in the mirror and find their own.
False reflection, false affection.
Attention needs to be looked after,
Naïve views need blindsighting.
You can’t love hate; if you hate love.
White lies make me get dark,
why bark if you’re not a dog?
Quit *******, deceit carries a receipt.
I’m just a flea itching to bite.
Eternal fuse, refuse to explode,
re-fuse, implode. Exposed.
Corrode societies iron clad prose of civility.
Severe sincerity.

Preech Mar 2013

The Pavement

Overlooked, underfoot, brushed aside
the bottom line is this: I’m sick of looking up.
My eyes are tired, facing the sky
trying to fill my cup, droplets from above,
sipping this rainwater aint the same
I’m drained. Loose change, who’s changed?
Seems deranged that I’m deemed useless
yet people walk all over me.
The view’s strange, my lids need books,
tips need silver, copper and such.
Quite often I’m just disregarded as being there,
slightly rough to the touch, a sight stolen so sleight.
Not even a part of the wall, not a brick,
just another slab in the floor, holding up ****.

This is the only sneak peak that you are getting from any of the new writing that has been put into my upcoming second book; Crooked Looking Glass. I hope you like it, there is no definite meaning to this one, not that there is with any text, so make of it what you will.

Preech Sep 2012

Media Management

The media are the management,
the fear factory controlling British minds,
people afraid to fight, not willing to stand tall,
state their place, hold their ground.

They are happy to fall back,
retract their opinions, never react.

The media cast stereotypes,
negative images and cynical thoughts.
Destroying the trust in men and women alike.

Brainwashed, is what you think yours?
Or are your thoughts manufactured?