Amputated

Two fingers amputated due to a work accident.
For a recreational writer and poet it can be a massive setback.
Not being able to make notes quickly, and struggling to get motivated or creative when looking at a loss which is so obvious in front of my face.
Worrying what other people think of my deformity.

But we must crack on and tell our story.
I’ve suffered mentally in the past, and now physically.
Because it’s my writing hand I feel like I’m being tormented or warned by some higher power.

But alas that is just my imagination, which is still fully intact.
I will adapt and embrace the change. Though it may be a slower process, words will still flow and my story will go on…

Stand up

We are all living
We are all dying
Ask for forgiving
When the soul is flying

We can all speak
We can all be silent
Tested at our peak
When the world is violent

We can all act
We are all still
We choose to react
To help at will

We can all love
We can all hate
Cleanse the fisted glove
Before it’s too late

We can all kiss
We can all shout
Think of the effect
When we open our mouth

We can all laugh
We can all cry
Leave no wrath
When you die

We can choose wrong
We can choose right
No one belongs
In a sense of fright

We can all be kind
We can all be mean
We can all be blind
To the horrors we see

We can all be quiet
We all have a voice
We all have a chance
To make the right choice

Fallen

When sat alone
With the weight of blood
Panicked in solitude
Restricted from external wounds
Do we cry,
Or lie down upon the sympathy?
Voicing the same tale
To heighten ears
Imagining on empathic fears
Which soon dies
From curious eyes.
The scars of eternity sparks interest
To unknown generations
Seeking if the whispers are truth.
They are, if not worse,
Bones were cracked
Shock crushed the breath,
The story revealed forever wrapped in light
Never disclosing
How close we were to death.

Dear Papa

Tread upon my memory
Twist the past to suit
So now I dwell in silence
And cry for help in mute.

You cannot talk for dread
Of upsetting your life of now
A coward never thinks
Just nods his head and bows

Similar in physicality
Only way that we’re the same
When people ask about me
You stutter at my name.

Deny any blood relations
Making young generations cry
When they knock the door in decades
Will you look them in the eye.

Storm never came

Balance is one of lifes skills
Steering a ship through a perfect storm
The ideal happening is to be still
In todays world, thats not the norm.

To find the perfect place in life,
Peace, warmth and tranquillity
Opposite feels like a sharp knife,
or out of breath, bottom of the sea

Weighing up the moments of our time
Mood dependant on rain or shine
Mind topples with the weight of it all,
Playful imaginings, turning suicidal

Would it hurt to give nature a nudge,
Hoping survival wouldn’t bare a grudge
If fate steps in and breaks my fall,
I could land on middle ground I wasn’t looking for

Feeling drunk when not even drinking
On solid ground, but inside sinking
Point of no return is not forgiving
Decisions near death, as hard as near living

I knew someone who acted on doubt,
So I’ve always seen it as a way out.

I started to worry when my mind went quiet,
So this is my idea of a spoken riot,
Putting it all down for all to see,
How this was an option, taken seriously

Looking at it now, it feels of nonsense
In death, I never wanted life on my conscience
I talked, I listened, i called my own bluff,
Luckily for me, in the end, enough was never enough.

Mercy

Would you use one of your wishes
To swim below with the Fishes,
Or as a bee attracted to honey
Be seduced to taste endless money

I’d wish for the sun and sea
Endless until I stop to breathe,
Often wishes end as regrets
Tears falling until the sun sets

I’d pass one away to a close stranger
One that looks not far from danger
Pass the burden to set me free
Until that wish transcends back to me.

Limbo

A nights sleep and the heart pumps bigger
Now what hits is the constant trigger

My skin is so wet, and my nerves are soaked
My soul is flat, and my will is choked

I feel there is light, I feel heat in my eyes
A brighter appearance brings up a good cry

I put down the bottle, throw down the cork
Open the door and skip as I walk

The outlook is clearer, different and real
Feels like the air, has shook off its chill

A smile breaks free, wide and thin
The combined warmth, comes from within

Another same day, from beginning to end
Half wearing the mask, half full of pretend

One extreme to the other, to which I seem bound
Desperately searching, for some middle ground.

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.

Whispers through doors

We would be lying
If we believe we’re not dying
Best to be ruthless
Not consciously toothless
Arming with facts
How our body subtracts,
Blood steadily thickens
Immune system sickens
Thinning our skin
Fades from within,
The insides lay waste
Soon we will taste
The scent of death
Awash in our breath.

Movement Cracks bone
Awaiting final moan
Lose all doubt
This is the wayout,
Just accept,
Enjoy what’s left
Because we are dying
And very soon,
Our soul will be flying.