Words

Sometimes words fail me
and then I realise it is just my heart taking a breath.

Sometimes things just aint worth the effort to comment,
as the silence says it all.

Sometimes words spill from my mouth,
and I wonder where they came from.

And sometimes I stop mid-sentence
and let the idea go out like a candle flame.

Sometimes it aint what is said,
it's the absence or inclusion of heart and soul

Sometimes the right words don't come
and I realise I just didn't understand

Sometimes I think too much
and the words sound hollow

And sometimes the words flow
with a torrent of tears.

What If

What shall we sacrifice today?
Is there not sacrifice in all that we do?
The altar has many names:
Family, friends, love, dreams,
anything that we hold in our hearts is a worthy offering
to the gods of what if.

There is sacrifice in standing still,
for we forego a new destination.
And the haunting torment of knowledge
and the pain of ignorance fight ‘till the death
in the unanswered question of, what if.

The battleground of decisions made,
the graveyard full of fleshless hope,
the invisible tears cried in the rain
the promises we made to ourselves all in vain.
A legacy left and a burden to bare all in the name of what if. 

The OMG Society

The OMG society
devastated by the superficial,
over-reacting to the mundane,
worshiping the worthless idol
aspiring to mediocrity.

The fog of triviality
hides life’s substance.
The chatter of the inane
drowns out any hope of salvation.

Voices making unintelligible demands
for more mediocrity and settling for less.
And the spiral of decline spins ever faster
while the senses are dulled on the anvil of stupidity.

Life’s drip of discomfort continues unnoticed
while the pursuit of hollow gold rolls on through
the hall of smoke and mirrors,
as we succumb to the new bench mark of humanity.

Audio Recordings

You can find some of my audio recordings here
Soundcloud

The Domain of the Insane

There is craziness in the air

and there’s madness in the deed
and while we find solace in our insanity
The deepest wounds will fail to bleed.

Oh they will fester and turn ugly,
but somehow that’s a measure of the norm;
so we hold inside our desires denied
while from society, sanity’s torn.

And while leaders with their lies
seek to conspire in acts profane
truth that once was worth a damn is lost,
now in the domain of the insane.

Now society clings with bleeding hands
to glib words and acts of deceit,
turning blind eyes and deafened ears, to that
which shakes our false belief.

And when prophets of the day
tried to warn us of our fate
their words decried by zealots and
turned into objects of hate.

How we laughed at truth and sanity
and showed disdain of solid proof
and sought shelter in the arms of hell
with deception for a roof.

A Legacy of Tales

And all the while times are changing, and it seems to go unnoticed.

Cracks are forming in pristine walls,
floorboards creak under carpets worn bare.
These signs of decay are only seen by the young,
while the old still see the beauty of what had been.

Decay is but a memory of living,
and in part a measure of our passion,
a spiritual graffiti of a life well spent,
A legacy of tales to be shared.

And in the sharing, decay recedes for the moment
to reveal the sights and sounds of memories that are
held within decay and resurrected in the telling,
to live within the hearts of those who had not been there
but who would reap the rewards of knowing from whom they came.