Frozen Fruit

Takes a special kind of person
To turn their back on blood
A frozen shell that never breaks
Holding back the emotional flood

Would it spark a bit of love
If we all started to cry?
I feel that chapters been read
The words turning to a lie

You break a branch then climb
Damaging the family tree
Moving to a new orchard
Happy to be free

Never caring to look back
Even though you planted the seed
I guess I’ll never know
If your heart slowly bleeds

Changes

The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition not nearer nor faster

Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change

An unconscious unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending, is where a new first begins.

Pain and suffering

An invisible epidemic spreads through human life,
Known but unseen
Casting shadows internally
Polluting the brain.
Suicide and pain seem a way of life
Shocking but accepted.
When did we as a species, start acting,
As taking our own life is ok.
Shocking, cruel and unbelievable
Until time passes and shock value
Depreciates,
Becoming recognised as part of the journey.

No it’s not normal for an individual
Full of sense, emotion and love
Choosing to kill themselves cold.
To get to this state should send waves
To all that breathes.
We are evolving to see suicide as an option
Adapting and planning self torture.
This needs to stop
And start believing in the values of breathing,
Dancing to the blood pumping
Through viens.
And value life as a gift
Not a burden to survive.

The higher charge in every country,
In every race and language,
Need to see what’s in front of their
Privileged eyes.
People are suffering with standards
Of life.
Poverty, pain, combined with weight of mind
Brings the soul to drip
Of helplessness.

Self-halm to the extent of death,
Planned and executed in advance
By an individual
Who sees no other option.
This shouldn’t be behaviour of the sane
Suicide is spreading and rising
Unnoticed and quiet, until the blood drains.

Three Ghosts

Anxiety the past,
Praying on memories of old
Turning joy toxic
Parading doubt in front of others.
Questioning becomes an obsession
With the conscious gods.
Rewriting history through imagination
And doubt.
Feelings of guilt and regret
Cloud truth and innocence.

Depression the present,
Creating Insomnia
And tireless days
Mask slips in lonesome moments
Reappearing with others,
Painting a fake smile in company
Swapping faces to suit situations.
Forever Praying for, and fearing, isolation,
A bittersweet time of clarity
And relief,
In a day of celebration
Where the crowd mood is red
The depressives is blue.

Fear is the future,
Projecting thoughts
To unknown happenings,
Maybe Death or incarceration,
No positive or warm to hold onto.
Uncertainty a devil of the mind,
Imagination the keys on which he plays
Silencing voice of reason.
Rationality plays part of advocate
Though fails to satisfy or reassure
Peace and calm.
Noone can predict what the future holds
Though my accurate twisted depiction,
Is feeling alone and cold.
Many are visited always by these three ghosts,
And Christmas occasions can prove too dour
An Understanding voice can sing like a Carol
A true gift given, in a much needed hour.

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.

The Looking Glass

‘Any thought can be tolerated, even this one’,
Becomes an obsessional loop,
A contradictory statement on repeat
That works to ease tension
And stop the mind from back flowing.

Insurance and affirmation it’s not a lie
Breathes from within.
The warmth and contentment cant be faked,
So belief becomes the norm,
And fear a fractured shadow.

Our own mind a nemesis
A fact created from evolutionary frailties
Or a sick trick from ones creator?.
To question is to fall back to the trap.
Accept the fractured imperfections
Of the conscious mind,
The dark humour mixed with reality,
And live with glory of imagination,
The power to create expressivly
And freedom to do so.

Once we let go of ourselves
Control is restored,
Balance becomes silent,
And Living becomes unnoticed.