No-one speaks of the son
The true pick pocket of the mind
The embezzler of certainty
Who mocks the deaf and blind
Though master keeps the throne
The aire runs the house
Faceless threat of the scare dimension
Who strung his kids and spouse
Escape never earned
No retreat, only forward
Scarring for the returned
Whipping for a coward
As mortal life is sucked
You die imagining of fairy tales
Reality smells of torture
Of crucifixion from rusty nails
Death bed made in plain sight
Implants dreams of no tomorrow
Sleep tight on pools of blood
A grave so deep and shallow.
Choose to climb
and escape the stone walls
that close in
like a dampening breath to the neck,
The goosebumps are real
coldness can’t be faked
neither can the dread which creeps from below,
Move or perish
from the hesitant pause
that captures indecisive minds
freezing the will to submission.
Or leave it to fate,
Let go and fall in to emptiness
become weightless in body and mind,
Float down star shaped
with eyes unable to close
as you look upward bidding farewell
part of the punishment of surrendering to hell,
Light dissolves in seconds
free falling in to darkness
to an eternal expanse.
Deviant whispers from nowhere
keep you from sleep
A choice to make,
Fall and drown forever as a prisoner
or climb and fight.
When time passes by what’s left. Regret, guilt and shame, being bored?. Is that a life to live, a story to share with young loved ones.
No, procrastinating is an humorous excuse used too often. If you want to live a calm, comfortable life then that’s fine, but don’t talk bigger, or imagine a better future if you’re happy.
No-one wants to hear stories of excuses and what-if stories of things that could’ve happened to them.
Lost dreams take up to much air space and mind room. There’s nothing to stop a productive imagination reproducing what it sees. Living the dreams that seem far away.
You just have to want it bad enough, to be bothered to try and grasp it with both hands.
Everyone loves a trier, even if you fail you tried. Tell the story of how you went for it, how you followed your heart. It’s an adventure if nothing else.
There’s no way to recreate the feelings of a light bulb moment when it hits. The excitement it projects.
Do it before it’s too late.
This speech is inside my head every day. My gut telling me I want more. And there’s only one way…
Whichever way round I end up when I pass, it won’t last
Even in death I won’t find the right path
Mind pulling up and then channelling down
When I’m lost do I even make a sound?
Limbo is my forevermore, bleak is my host
Life or death, in people’s eyes, I’m just a ghost.
I stand alone, only clouded by my own judgement,
As with the mind, when the fog lifts only beauty remains,
Stop asking the minds begs, when a person who doesn’t really care asks how you feel. The routine and rehearsed speech kicks in. Explaining that you’re fine and finishing off with a painted smile.
The person knows you speak false truth, and inside they breathe a sigh of relief that they don’t have to hear about your issues, or in their eyes, issues that don’t really exist.
This scene plays out a thousand times over a life time.
The magic happens when you find someone who genuinely cares and listens, and the switch in your mind decides to speak the truth.
The soul is like the sun
It can’t be tamed
So don’t try to blinker life
Or pass the energy on to others.
It will haunt and taunt
Surrounding the clouded spirit
Until pressure erupts
Controlling the present path.
How you transform in that moment
is down to choice.
Control becomes immune to hesitation
Seize the colour inside
Create an unique aura
Or dark will take over