An explosion,
pulse quickened,
the adrenaline itch
threatened to stifle me

throat constricted,
mouth cotton dried
as I eyed the few I could see
in the front row

then the music
as familiar as my pillow
gave a beat and suggested melody
and as I sang I rose

Next to me was this one
and her feet were never still
she twirled and span through contretemps
and likely always will

That one had intensity
but never said a word
from blackened fingered canvases
his voice could still be heard

These two stood in spotlights
and held everyone in thrall
performing other’s stories,
their own a quieted call

And the group raised up their voices
which entwined and fit so well
and the chorus spoke of everything
they’d never usually tell

These memories, these children,
who moved, who drew, who showed,
who sang unguarded clarity
while the emptiness bellowed

Used to have us allies
used to have us care,
now, become statistics
now, are never there

I spent fifteen minutes of the lesson
chasing a roll of Polo mints and a pound coin
out of a small hole in the working class lining of his pointless blazer, to stop him taking scissors to it,
even though mum said it was OK

At the same time, my child bosses
decided to cut my subject
from the formerly rich platter available
to our blasted, gorgeous youth
because, reasons
which I suppose are financial and deeply,
numerically,
justifiable

Meanwhile, the next kid in junior school
silently loses the opportunity
to be anything other
than a state certified failure

So, cheers

Always wrong
With what I thought
was just a song
All the demons fought
But I was losing all along.
Words unspoken,
Lyrics broken
Until our words pour out
telling all that life's about.
I give my life. Whole. Devout.
Passion never running out
No fear. More pain. I conquer doubt.
A child's life changing route
Altered dreams
Tearing seems
You see her changing teams
As she rejects all she knows.
Life goes on, wind still blows.
She may regret the path she chose
But at least she stepped.
The found the ledge and finally crept
Right of the cliff
No bones stiff
She was this:
No doubt in her mind
She had to be bold; be one of a kind
And now she's stuck
Straight out of luck.
Caught in a storm the sun may never fix
So she'll scream her lyrics and hope the story sticks.


A symphony
Of modern sympathy
Music sounds
And steals away simplicity.
A soul isolated
Thoughts so innovated
The idea her mind created
Was shot down.
Brought down
From the sky
A dreamer left to die
But as she looks up through her dying eyes
She sees the questions in the passers-by
As that fake curiosity took the time to wonder why
the dead bird never left the nest.
You shot her down and took away her best,
You stole the gold and made a cavern in her chest.
What's it like to be the voice that could have stood behind,
But instead you disappeared the back-side of a whisper in your mind.
So tell me, what's it like?
To know you could have been the one to drop the mic.
But instead you said nothing and hid behind your apathy,
I hope your life ends happily.
You could have been the voice to stand behind my music,
But instead you hid behind a whisper,
And became the one who killed it.