A row of tabs with titles in hiding,
Each one a witness to the weight of today
The clock ticks louder, each second sharp,
Echoing the resolve she’s forced to obey
When did life slip into this solemn tone?

Her hand hovers, drawn to a magazine,
Its cover untouched, still crisp and clean
She peels it open, and there it is—
The faint smell of paper, a balm for her soul.

Not pages of profit or the season’s couture,
But the world of Bobo, the blue rabbit and friends
Bright illustrations, laughter tucked in each corner,
A refuge from journals and theories that age her too soon.

Here, she remembers a simpler time,
A decade past, when her world felt lighter
This magazine, still standing, still waiting,
The same one that sparked her love for the written word.

She smiles,
Because even amidst the seriousness,
A pause is enough to bring her home.

This gift called life sometimes seems like the unwanted kind
and you find yourself trying to be clever, tape it back together.
You don’t know whether to complain
so you refrain from saying  “Hey, this is not what I put on my list”
and so you miss your opportunity to speak your truth, to speak your pain.
But see, it’s never too late to call it out!
Your story is about your chronology, there is no expiry for being real about how you feel- your authenticity.
So take the gift again and know that it doesn’t always have to be about endless happiness and joie de vie.
The gift is the journey, not all paths are paved. Not all angels triumph nor all sinners saved.
Hold fast to hope, knowing that it has no end and your true gift just might be revealed around the bend.

Goodbye, addiction, my killer vice
I've come to realise it destroys ones life
Because a little starts a web of lies
As your true inner self slowly dies
And the person inside hides from itself
Blaming the cards you were dealt
Coming from within the drug of deception

In my search for meaning I just couldn’t wait
Took a gamble with an old schoolmate
Behind the now derelict, but once busy hardware shop
I blew it all up, until my head was about to pop
Then my heart felt like it was jumping out of my skin
That’ll be the last time, never again
Until my mind craved the drug of deception

And while in a crazy trance I saw
Three headed creatures, six eyes or more
Creatures stalking without a cause
Creatures nearing without a pause
Creatures appearing from nowhere on my trip
My mouth tight lipped
Caused by the drug of deception

"Help" said I, "I want them to go
Caused by a lost souls woes
Take notice my friends, save yourselves
Take my advice for it could help yourselves."
But my addiction like so many in life
All fall into the drug of deception

All of us in society at times have troubles
Try and find a way out of your mystery puzzle
The choice is yours alone, so never ever handball
All of us in some way, are marooned on an island
Wandering around trying to contact the mainland
But it’s free to move to another thinking way
So instead live every moment, of every single day
Better than being lost to the drug of deception.

Been trackin' my journey, along The Mississippi Delta line
*****, drugs or just bad luck, has put my life into decline
Broken family, abusive mother, stepfather would only groan
When bashed for not eatin' my mash, ran into the unknown
Hitched my thumb out, on the famous route 66 to LA
Cruisin' with girls, in a pickup, hair all messed up, in a Chevrolet

A door just shut in my mind, with a bang
California sounds, like a good place to hang
The sunshine means you can go surfin' all year long
Locals told me, it's where they felt it was the place to belong
Handsome dude, gob smackin' tanned Californian gal
Fitness freak *****, boulevard busker high on morale

Never stay about for a brutal end to the day
Make the ones hurtin' you, instead of nurturing, pay
Wave the *******, as you slam the door shut
In a life on your own, like an island,not in a rut
Be the one, seeking the sun, your life definitely more rotund
In the end, remember, life is a ticket without a refund.

She lie  
She get by  
He’s a guy  
He’s so sly  
She got no father  
Just a fake stepfather
He got a family  
All in jail, actually  
They are meant for each other  
They’re expecting, so she’ll soon be a mother  
Their others a girl, now she’ll have a brother  
They don’t own a house, they’d rather squatter  
Thrown out again, forever living in squalor  
Not a dollar for food, now she’s a robber  
She’ll be living with in-laws soon, wearing a collar  
So yes, the little girl and me the brother  
We once called her, our dearly beloved mother.