The swings hum softly in the wind,
clouds drift like slow balloons,
and the rivers race each other,
laughing all the way to the sea.

Mountains wear their crowns of snow,
trees play tag with the breeze,
while the stars peek through at night,
waiting for the sun to hide and seek.

But we, so busy building walls,
forget the feel of grass beneath our feet.
We hold the sky in photographs,
too scared to reach out and let it hold us back.

The rain is just a skipping stone,
tossed from some far-off, gentle hand.
The world spins like a merry-go-round,
yet we clutch the rails, afraid to let go.

Look closer, can you see it now?
The colors, bright as chalk on pavement.
The echoes of laughter in the hills,
the quiet voice that calls your name.

This world is a playground, waiting still.
Not a prison of glass and steel.
Jump higher, run farther—fall if you must.
The hands that shaped the stars
will catch you in the dust.

Song Tears for fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World.

When negative thoughts are uprooted
So sadness and fear are excluded
Then shunning adversity
Stifles diversity
Leaving the landscape denuded

Tim lived at five one two
Caraway Lane with a
dog and lawn that was
hard to maintain and three
goats with no names
Two bankers came
Crisply dressed, repossessed
Caraway lane

Paul had tried every trick
through thick and thin but he
couldn’t make rent when it
went on cheap gin and he
hated the taste
Fated to waste
Downing and drowning in
Crown-clouding gin

Richard was shy with an
acne-pocked charm and a
look of sick shock as he
watched in alarm as his
paycheck ran dry
Couldn’t tell why
Money tree entropy
ended supply

Tim was quite pretty, clown
-witty and warm with flash
city-smoked glints and fresh
country-stoked draw, with his
cheekbones and jaw, and the
charm he had, strapping lad
dressed in plaid shirts he would
flirt with short skirts or a
dress or long pants, really
anything worked

Paul was quite petty, and
yet he had steady ad
-mirers in heady and heal
-y-tripped love, he was
shunned by wronged songbirds, he’d
stolen their sweet words, his
perfect pitch, descant-rich
Transcendent vocally
Elegant poetry
Angel-conferred

Richard had first-degree
Self-esteem vacancy
So, on occasion he
Self-critiqued shamefully
Good for perfectionist
standards which nurtured his
six-string-chord skilfulness
Master accompanist
Metronome rhythm-prone
strong instrumentalist

Each in a fix when a
-lone but the mix would be
known to eclipse what was
shown on the local bar
circuit you’d know if you
heard it, a joy to un
-earth it, so worth it e
-merged as the trio with
alchemy, beauty and
blasphemy, moral and
mortal-tinged humour a
-cademy, heaven-sent
harmony, rather be
here to see, them than be
anywhere actually
this is me, heavily
suddenly, readily
falling in love with three
men in one melody

In beatific dappling
Beyond the broken light
A prism - one or multitudes
- create joy-magic scattering
As colours spill from white

The bliss-veiled happy vandals
Ice crystals, dusty mist,
or fresh-shed brick-metallic blood
Immune from birthright scandals
Guerilla-art eclipsed

What hidden mystic sorcery
This trigger transportation
Our daily glimpse at heaven hints
A blood and light-mixed chemistry
With dust-transmuted artistry
Charmed glimmer transformation

I was handed
   a glass full of life
And begged to
   to partake

To drink up
   he drunk
To swallow
   and forget
the strife

Instead of
   sweet dreams
Swilling concepts
   sprung to life

The more swill
    I swallowed
The tighter
    the grasp
I would yield

The pressure
    so great
The glass shattered
    life spilled

The blood
    gushed
But it was
    a relief

Just a pain
    I could understand
Something real
    I could handle