Sad songs bring me to a special place within my soul.
Every haunted note sung shatters my outlook on what the future holds.
A stream of moody chords could cause salt and liquid to blend, tears flowing onto my pillow and bed.
Melodies cursed to possess my very core.
My heart aches with every lonely lullaby that echoes into my fragile ears.
Brain signals fire left and right, confused at what tragedy has caused me to feel so low.
Has he lost someone dear?
Is he coping with some unknown fear?
Does he wonder if his own death is near?
Maybe some of those ring true, but sometimes it is for no sane reason at all.
Some days I long for the love I once had, so I play a song that once brought joy to a world not yet sad.
Those cheesy pop songs, folk tunes, and haunting notes are now played for one reason; I miss the heartache I had from someone I loved.
Because even if they chose to leave me, at least the songs we had can remind me of the pain that came.
I would rather feel the pain of their betrayal over and over again than feel nothing at all.
They left me with nothing, so what could remain?

Blackbird, blackbird, whither 'way
Don't come down this way in
Sleek sails of five and six

Hither here, two and three
Come forth and fly in
Through the broken glass

Onyx separations carve
In six wings lost to starve
May the host slight the royalty

Blackbird, blackbird, whither 'way
Don't come down this way with
Sacrificial dust from seven circling

Hither here, two and three
Come forth and fly in
Through shattered self

Onyx separations carve
In six wings to starve
May the way be paved

Blackbird, blackbird, will I?
In the serene sloughs, call
Out from the dusk, ten sails high?

Blackbird, blackbird
Come around, see my gift
And sing your song

Papa sat
on his porch
smoking cigarettes.
Papa sat
on his porch
drinking black coffee.
Papa sat
on his porch
watching history
repeat itself.

Would he have lied
about this life?
What did he do?
Do I care?
He's dead. He's done.
He's my black bread.

Would he have lied
about this life?
What did he do?
Do I care? Do I care?

Papa said,
Don't lie.
Don't ever cut your ties
on accident, with some
accidental psychosis.
Kid, know your mind.
Kid, live your life.

Papa said,
Don't break.
Don't snap yourself in half
folding for other eyes,
Please,
Keep living, Kid.
Learn to bend.

Over Silesian mountains
Somewhere beyond black seas
There is a forgotten dream
Conjuring visions of peace

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go

Many lives faced the dream
More of them fade to black
But in the eyes of the eagle
There is no turning back

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go

Their hearts are worn on sleeves
Determination so earnest
Merely calm before the storm
Quiet before the Tempest

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go
Inside the city walls
The static is meant to frighten
Those who await the call
In the echoes of the siren

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go

There are many roads to follow
Some of them are painted red
Yet as long as we march on
No one can declare us dead.

I have heard the war drums approach,
On the borders of angry states,
Where lesser men dare not encroach;
And strong men meet untimely fates.

"In what time and in which manner?"
They come in random intervals.
"For what cause and for who's banner?"
A dead issue to disposed souls.

I have seen blood wet two lands soil,
And dry to a patriot stain,
But when old blood is set to boil;
Young blood returns to spill again!

isolation and aroma
our tent was crowded and friendly
fires in the early morning
that never seemed to give out
phone died a week ago
and for once i am living
i jumped a cliff and got lost in the forest below it
i was bruised and cold but the music was loud
and their dancing brought me home
drunk singing and emphatic fiddling
i saw what the spirit meant
mine is still there
i haven't felt in a while

Before the world calls again
We must make amends with the wind
Look not towards, turn around
Learn to challenge your mound
The world is erupting in earnest
Pearls rim the bulletproof vests
Another bay of mammals
Stripped of their enamel

Watchful eye, clockmaker
***** hands on blood bakers
Stagnant relics of the past
Wailing worms on salted masts
Crowded church, bullet tears
Limping for the flaking fears
Mountains bring a gilded path
For the saints, a shallow bath

Handcuffed legs, boarded hands
Folded on a calm command
Rotting hope, livid arms
For the magnate, no alarm
Bracket helm, grainy green
Swords are drawn on gabardines
No God will eat a tear
And dead they flow, winded pier

Dead they crow, winded pier

Billowed fire, riverside
Cower under thickened hides
Excess arms upon the dock
Sandinista on the rock
Triggers sold in tragedy
Lilting light, youth will cease
Leaders sleep in padded wells
Suffer mother, drink from hell

Here’s the hero, banner flown
Ruby paper, nature grown
Skeptic in the eye of rhye
Naked comics sing to die
The site is exiled from the shore
Stricken by a fiery pore
Steel-laced curtains, hesitance
Infidels in happenstance

Here is fortune, there lays war
I have sold a solid car
Husband creaks, mother moans
Children bred to take a bone
With a blonded, slanted eye
Astronauts will learn to fly
All the while, a preacher seeks
A pinstriped caddie and a freak

I am born and I am weak

Who knows where I’ll be headed
And who I’ll be after that
To my sole credit
I laid a man down on the tracks

I’m tired in my stare
Strides hurt a great deal
Nobody’s hired to care
Pride can’t afford a meal

If Consolation Day comes
I won’t know my way home
My tonsils are flayed
My lungs are made of stone
I’ll crow

Mission Impossible

Your mission should you choose to accept it?
May be tougher than total disease eradicated
Slower than abolition of third word poverty
No pinnacle as high as a career in true poetry

You will be deprived of all satellite navigation
Ostracised b friends n fair weather neighbours
Unarmed just words are your feeble protection
Your existence denied , should they ever get u

Let me warn you my brave poet friend
Take heed, you may think it no problem
Write all this free verse indeed w’ a vengeance
But once your outside defending fair maidens

Vanity n pride are left behind at your station
Your mind be clogged with a million quotations
This text , it destructs thru your own hesitation
Poet laureate you are not in my estimation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 1st November 2018.