The wind whispers
through the night
blotting out light
The inky blackness
is soon devoid
of any light
nothing but the void
The sunlight approaches
creating elongated demons
Tendrils of shadow
weaving ink into your feelings
The door is only a step away
from leaving this awful place
But when you turn around to leave
This nightmare becomes a dream
This world of black and white
filled with words bursting of colors
I hear things,
wind chimes swaying softly
in the warm, night breeze
the sound of pure bliss
yet there are still
the beautiful soft words, of
a young soul, drawing inspiration
and a very quiet pain.
This one has no food to eat,
This one has a war to beat.
Say! What a lot of people there are.
Some are dead,
Some have no bed,
Some even have no roof over their head.
But why are they
Separated from each other?
I wouldn’t know,
Go ask another.
Some are thin,
Some are tall,
Some are fat,
And some can even be quite small.
From there to here, from here to there.
Trump wants to create walls,
So, we can’t travel anywhere.
To get water,
Some have to travel,
Barefoot, on sharp gravel.
For miles and miles
They have to travel.
White, Black, White, Black.
White, Black, White, Black.
All distinguished from the colour of their back.
Some have two friends,
Some have one,
Some have ten friends,
Some have none.
Where do we come from?
A long, long way.
From a war place,
Come here to be safe.
We see them come,
We see them go.
Some come legally,
Some come by boat.
Some are tall,
And some are short.
We’re all different,
But we’re all human.
Yet, we’re singled out,
Just because we’re men or women.
Is it okay to scream and shout?
Lesbian, Straight, Bi or Gay.
Is it good to call someone out?
Did you think it was okay?
Black, White, Old, New,
Gay, Straight, Man, Woman,
Asian, Indian, American, African,
Don’t you realise we’re all human?
It’s not a reason to be rude,
Just because I am different to you.
I went back
But, my mind wandered
Off to seek a haven
Where this pieces would fit
Those were the only days
Where I was a statue
And not a godforsaken flesh
In a straitjacket
Are the place where you go
As a storm coming in
Heading your way
Wreaking you over,
Bashing your reality,
Being an acid in your little lemon life,
They are the white limbo
You heart wants to go
Are not they?
I am at the place
Where I gauge the years to empty
Where it is dark
Where it is white
Where no roses grow
Where no crows caw
Where my heart vacant,
(Turning the page)
(I turn the page)
What is home?
Made from the hands of a renaissance artist.
Marble, chiseled and chipped away,
Not black or white
But morally grey.
Fruit of my work made the finest harvest.
Though i was never praised or accepted
Just crudely neglected
in this world of czarist and conformist,
Never sought for change, just to fit in.
Feeling rejected i wrecked and burned my Art.
Molded myself not into a reformist,
The world is too damned and sick
So an anarchist i rose,
With pen and prose.
I care not to be your psalmist
Singing and dancing of their woes
Instead i write as an exorcist
My art will chain and dispose of all our foes.
Life expect you to fit in
But you feel like afterthought
As you were not meant to win
Summer led you to a naught
Then, we welcomed the cold back
And they all left like the birds
Even though it is all black
Alone isn't a bad word
The light will come back in waves
'Til you grab it for your sake
I promise you ; join the braves
And you alone will not ache
John is fifty five, Elizabeth - twenty three,
Peter - thirty three, Poppy - only ten,
but in death's black books they all are same age.
Patrick's very fat, Anna’s a plump girl,
Sarah - average size, Nick's thin as a rake,
but in death's black books they all have same weight.
Marlon wears blue jeans, Dani loves pink dresses,
Pablo - only suits, Hada is hat obsessed,
but in death's black books they’re all but a flesh.
Graham is a lawyer, Monica teaches kids,
Andy - taxi driver, Eve - model-to-be,
but in death's black books they’re all bones and meat.
Meredith is a Christian, Yina - a buddhist.
Ahmed akbars Allah, William - atheist.
Meredith thinks Heaven is the place she'll go,
Yina says she will become a cat, or a dog.
Paradise for Ahmed, "If I'm good" - he says.
William doesn't know what is after life,
but in death's black books they’ll all go to ground.
Janice has quit smoking to live longer, a bit,
Stephen's life’s a struggle, day by day same shit.
Colin's fighting cancer, chained to hospital bed.
Lola's fan of Botox, she tries to not to age,
but in death's black books they all already dead.