I see green,
I see blue,
I see careless clouds,
Fleeting about in hues;
I see sparkles of white,
I see days full and bright.

And then it comes,
The haze that blinds,
The sun scorches down,
The green turns brown;
And though the illusion of mist;
No more do I see.

The birds stop their song,
I wonder why,
The hills turn brown,
And again I wonder;
If anyone cared,
If anyone sees.

I pave my way through the crowds,
As I breathe through cloth,
Up and down,
Left and right,
Everyone seems to be,
Trapped in this tropical haze.

‘Just go with the flow’ they say,
‘You can’t avoid the current anyway’ they say;
‘That’s the way it works,’ they say,
Who are ‘THEY’?

Round and round it spins,
‘That’s the way it works’ they claim;
Like sweet bread, buttered both sides their words are,
From the start, alluring and tempting.

Sweet is the fruit at the start,
Drenched in coated sugar,
And after ******* on for some part,
Reality sinks in, your eyes taking in the colour.

‘That’s not the way,’ you say,
‘It’s totally wrong,’ you say;
But now it’s their turn:
Who are ‘YOU’?

So what do you do?
Talk, protest, rebel?
They’ll cut you off if you do,
Who are ‘YOU’ to them?

And so you wait,
Wait for the time when they leave,
Wait for what’s coming for you,
And you then do the SAME.

At the end, did the questions arise:
Who are ‘THEY’, who are ‘YOU’?
Did the answer for this arise:
“WHO AM I?”

Like a perfect running clock it looks,
Ticking the minutes and hours away;
Not a soul checks the rusted gears and crannies and nooks,
Not until it’s too late anyway…

Crunching sound beneath my feet,
The feeling of oneness with the dust,
From which I was made,
Every step brings me deeper into my past.

I see it now, the gift of life,
Sprouting from the depths of the earth,
From what we deem lifeless,
Life emerges, in all its fullness.

My toes run through the soft soil,
Each grain screams out a testimony of a million years,
Each stone would cry if they could,
Watching our world nearing its doom.

The fault in our world is not out there,
It is in here,
In the hearts of reckless, egoistic men,
The men who could not care less.

Soil, sand and peat,
Rocks, stones and clay,
All interspersed together,
Designed without fault.

The Creator is all-loving,
Designed us the way we are,
With complete freedom,
And maybe that’s where our flaw lies…

The first

Drops for her,
The silent wish,
That it was different,
That I was not a burden.
It splashes down,
Splitting into a thousand little droplets,
Each a sorrowful entity,
Depicting each scene of heart-wrenching pain.

The second

Drops for him,
The silent prayer,
That I could be better,
A person you wished could be like you,
The man that could make you proud,
By just being a man
Not more, not less.
I'm sorry I'm less.

The third

Drops for me,
More than just silent,
More than just faint,
It crashes like thunder,
Bearing grief and pain,
That I am not what you expect,
Nor will I ever be,
And nothing can change that, even me.

These tears come hurtling down,
And maybe the figures are just figures,
It could be more, definitely more, I lost count,
But the awful truth is its always silent,
Never to be heard or seen...

My emotions are like a flower shop
You admire the beauty of the flowers up front
That you hardly notice the wiltering ones at the back

You are this untouchable tower
of which I twirl my fine, unsaid words around you.
Coiled around your every curve
Fitting in all your lines,
(whispers so faint you don't know I am speaking)
Intertwined into clouds of invisible words

For you, I fell so hard
Uncountable crossing lines
In all the silver instances
Pretending you were mine.