opinions and thoughts die
like unwanted infants in the womb
beautiful but doomed
never to see the light of life
shunned by a world
looking the other way
I feel sad, I really do
for never knowing the truth
lies perpetuated by a cruel world
always knowing better
than those under fire
better
than true desire
politicians oligarchs
self inserted gods
in their houses of cards
time for us to rise and shine
a velvet revolution
from the velvet underground

a pause
designed to create an awkwardness
a storm
brews from a cloudless sky to touch terra firma
a rage
all consuming emotion projected outwards
the eye
a calm central refuge surrounded by weather and hate
time
to prepare for the inevitable stand ground or escape
all that anger out there in the world
waiting to express itself
perhaps the clouds above us catch our wrath
projecting it back with the power of our hatred

the air outside is still
as though the world
is a living room
and the trees furniture
shouts arousing fear
sound close at hand
aggressive threatening
as though directed at me
a tiny spider crawls
up the front of my shirt
one of those that makes
a web of your head
and itches all day
a car more noise than power
echoes it's exhaust sound
round the terraced houses
then
all becomes quiet
as though waves have
mellowed into a millpond
a bird sings
the most haunting beautiful
refrain,  lonely chanteuse
filling the airwaves
finally I sleep again

a hard man doesn't need to shout
threaten or front it out
a hard man can crack an egg
without breaking the yolk

I saw the fear in his eyes
of defeats endured through childhood
bruises inflicted by a fathers rage
although now faded
cigarette burns under tattoo ink
hidden but never forgotten
he was mean when he was drunk
no particular sin apart from existence
I almost forgave him
the black eye and broken nose

depicted on her arm
hieroglyphs and pictorial charm
tattoo sleeve deep dive
into an ocean of everything
she finds so hard to relate
left hanging in the air
but don't question it
like the elephant in the room
move right on stranger
it's not speaking to you
there is a cult of believers
a religion based on trust
if you need to ask the reason
non-believer you are lost
in a garden that's a secret
that's already cast you out
you'll never know her freedom
it's a dish you just can't taste