post war baby boomer
born of Blitz lottery survivors
sixties influenced music head
mixed bad taste seventies
girly long hair and dress sense
brought new life into space age
travellers seeking new worlds
while trying to rescue the one
we messed up in the first place

Watch the moon go across the sky
as you lie on your back and wonder why
or how on this planet we came to be
evolved from fish or decedents of Eve

Though none of it matters for we cannot go back
time moves forward as a matter of fact
just as the past, the future is unknown
except to the mystic and their crystal ball showing

The paths of men, women and beast
the future of war and lacking of peace
They see such doom and unfortunate pain
They see the young who end up insane

And other youth ruined as they grow old
tainted and rotted -- lost in the world
lost in themselves from the moment of birth
some unlit candles lacking self worth

lacking the chance their ancestors got
who ***** all the land, bickered and fought
A blind group of creatures who just couldn't see
the sacrifices WE made so they could be free

As we got older, it became clear
that we wouldn’t have the luxuries

of drink without worry,
of sleep without restlessness,

of raising children
without fear for their survival.

It became clear
that we would never garner

the respect of our elders
no matter how dearly we pined for it,

and that the world itself
would smolder

while those responsible
rested comfortably in their graves,

and those of us to whom
our forebears’ sins were bequeathed

would be left to choke on the smoke
and ashes

of a promise to posterity
allowed to burn instead.

Us as cracked pots,
with a possibility to be fixed
as fine and flawed

The geology of our clay:
dirt will behave as dirt,
rare earth as rare earth

With time it transmutes
to something new,
shot with old veins when fired

The new *** fragile,
prone to drops and knocks,
desperate to hold known water

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

Pause

For thought or effect,
the end’s the same

Played your hands in the game like always

But

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

And where did the vitriol get you,
old man?

To a better place?
Where fat white women sing your praise?

While at home your carbon copies
bust their lips
when the home team loses?

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

You waiting for something?
Applause for working a nine to five
and allowing a fraction
of your take home to be spent on living,
raising?

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

I’ll stand over you now
As you stood over me
Instead of raining blows
I’ll let the misery of your truth
Catch in your chest
and fight for the cause

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

Is a Child
A mirror of himself
his father,  and his father's fathers.
All culminating within the palms
Of his own two hands
His newborn babe.

He wonders in awe,
"How can I best teach, support, and love you?"
With ears of compassion
Eyes of love, and a heart of gratitude
His Spirit spoke,

"Allow your light to shine."
Allow your heart to breathe.
Allow your your ego
to slip away into the shadow
Of your Ancient Wise Soul.

He felt it!
As he breathed deeply
Down to the depths of his soles.
A heartfelt love
A love that was only imagined
Until this very moment

It seems to me
that as people get older
they mature
not like fine wine
but getting more stale
and more bitter
with each passing year.
Coffee, perhaps?

What if there was no rush?
Only an infinity of time
To discover the world
And all you could do.
But that is simply not true.
We all head to our grave
Minute by passing minute
Year by passing year
Just because this is so,
Is it wise to rush?
Or wiser to take your time
And let your roots grow deep
Soaking in the richness
Of an Earth that has seen many generations.
It is only then we truly live
And not drift like dead wood
Afloat a windy river
That leads to a long drop over a waterfall.
Let's establish ourselves,
And become a true part
Of this magical world.
Fashion yourself into this work of art.
Engrave your essence into the bedrock of history.
Don't allow the wind of this generation
To disanchor your heart.
Let your grip tighten
Into the realms of future and past
For they can be easily forgotten
Among the nagging realities of today
And the constant worries of the present week.
Are we allowed to drop the shallow,
And explore the deep waters?
The unknown exists.
It welcomes the rarest souls
Into its hidden chambers.
But who dares to go there?
Who cares to go there
When the colourful attractions
Of previous discovery shine all around you?
Convenience the wall that guards the masses
From the hidden worlds that lay beneath.