Look

I see images
Far away from personal space
Hiding in the shadows.
The corner of my eye
Feels movement,
Natural reflexes spin wildly,
On sighted
A shape
Transforms with haste
Back to benign.

Something insidious is watching
Rousing my senses
Alerting my suspicions.
Paranoia becomes a suspect
Though clean living proves
The mind is all powerful and complex
When left to wander freely
And without forced encouragement.

When will the process erupt
From viewing shapes
To hearing voices,
I’m scared I’ll answer
Scared of its suggestions
Of convincing me to believe
They exist in life not just my reality.
I see images elevate back from the dead
Convincing my mind
It’s not just, all in my head

Ascending

Colluding to time and age
Acting Complicit, dimming the rage,
The fist of anger and damnation
Slamming down, smashing shame
With frustration,
No sleep interrupts constant processing
Of survival,
Plan A plays out to normality and failure
Premature death subscribes maps to the mind,
Once written that’s where pain lies,
Blood behind the eyes
Talking blind,

Mumble of a foreign language
Where demons understand the cry
Of a fallen Angel,
No more to question why,
Give in lawfully to the bonds
That seek havens of wrist and foot,
Just change my love, easier to submerge
With the thorns,
Accept crown of horns,
Release pain, succumb to relief,
Let eyes view stars that dance in the mist,
Sleep my dear, and life will seep
Like falling blood purifying the wrist.

My Generation

Between the lines the whispers seek solice
Gratitude of time to be heard,
Only believers feel the undercurrent,
A background humm instigating alternatives
Revealing variations of living,
Walking to rather then standing still,

As a species we live sad
Of the impending eventuality who awaits us,
Our conscious pulls to fearing wait of death,
Dragging down certain minds
Forcing own hands
Bringing forward their premature demise,
Listen to the unconscious reasoning
That deduces this gift should be praised,

We have no say in birth or death
Our only control succeeds as we grow
A Choice to dictate character with emotion,
The advice buried in our soul lays active
Expanding the mind reveals the signs,
Live life blinded in black and white
Or thrive in the wonderment that breathes,
Between the lines.

Numb Num3ers

6 was the magic number
Or was it 3 and 12?
Always stuck to evens 4,8,16
But odds I sometimes delved
13, 23 filled me with dread
10’s good but 5 is great
Why not Friday 14th instead?
3’s nicely rounded, so is 8

666 is evil, but it’s an even number
Confused what I’m doing this 4
Bakers dozen shouldn’t be allowed
999 no help at all
A multiple gift that comes for 3?
20, 25, multiply and subtract
6 and 9 are upside down,
Leap year not sure how to react

60 mins, 60 seconds, why not 100?
19:24 is a digital clock pain
5 gold rings and checking things
13’s unlucky and 7’s fulls of vain
4, 8, 12, straight flush
The perfect number, where’s it 2?
School maths, a 45 degree nightmare
3 × 3 trigonometry, had to see it through

Why 3 pigs and 3 bears?
7 years bad luck or magnificent?
1 never seems ever enough
And what’s after 100 percent?
Adapt, arrange, ÷ on repeat
3, 6, no improvement with evolution
With OCD no matter the equation,
The answer is never the end solution.

Justice

We support the stalker who talks
The criminal who openly commits and walks,
While the victim, who is now free in body,
Is bound by invisible chains.

Perpetrator allowed to seduce and slither
While Victims belief dies, and withers.
A monstrosity carried out by a coward
Who thrives on toxic environments,
And plans constantly to move forward.
Receiving choice and chances
Of new identity with mundane history,
A lie to cover the new strangers mystery.

Victim has to see same scarred reflection,
Alone, wanting, helpless and useless,
Forever tainted and painted as damaged.
Meanwhile perpetrator smiles next to their uniformed entourage of protection,
Their defence paid in advanced, and managed.
Worse case scenario housed with a collection, of equal law breaking colleagues,
And looked upon with affection, and admiration.

Victims spirit falls away with surrender,
As the soul gives in to loneliness.
Becomes forgotten and only statistically remembered,
False empathy from society replaced by false sympathy,
Eyes of sorrow forgotten by tomorrow.

Perpetrator ‘becomes’ infamous and notorious,
Glorified through media,
Released early through rights and masks of good intentions,
Skillfully acted out through reduced years,
Splashing through the victims tears.
Life relinquished from monies of the good,
Allowed to walk in the sun
While victim lives through infinite clouds of judgement,
Jumping scared from their own shadow.

Perpetrator rides high on ridicule and swagger,
Knowing ‘the inside’ wouldn’t change their character.
From authorities who know best,
Given a new identity, new face,
With an underlying feeling, this wont change,
The threads where evil left a trace.

Cleansing

Giant footsteps brings me close
To the running water of gold
An endless stream of choice
Where life can be brought and sold.

My face turned stagnant in the waves
Tell me, am I me still?
Drowning alive has withdrawn my face
My reflection sizing up the kill.

Sinking as a dropping stone
Forever laid alive and cold
Wash away the sins I’ve made
My saviour this running water of gold.

Darkness

A thought ‘What if,
Revealed as A gift
From the devil,
Once hearing the words
They can’t be unheard.

Statement for the foolish
And nonsensical
Whose beliefs fall inside comfort,
Where only black and white exists
Living Joy swapped for awkwardness

Motivated and elated
Until intrusive doubt hits,
Irrational thoughts whisper
‘What if, what if’
Spoiling a moment on high
Disfiguring the feeling
Of laughing to a cry

Humour swamped by fear,
Freedom put in pockets
Until the unsuspecting host
Lays in wait for a chemical reprieve
From a biological resolution
A Pill to recieve.

When tablets run dry
Whose there to clear the sky
From the blue clouds,
Frustrated on a belief so false
Constantly Irritates general functions,
The guilt hurts the most

Unsuspectingly the will gives in,
It Surrenders to the voices
That bring emotions of doom
To the places where you once sang,
The choice from this time
Is not whether to run or fight,
Curl up and freeze,
Its whether to jump or hang