Choices to make

In a postcode war, integration of vile 

if only the choice would be, to wait a while

imagine a moment to stop and think

drop the knife, drugs and drink

save the future lives of at least two young men

drug fiends going nowhere, then again! 

Symphony

I feel the music, it’s in my soul 

filling a gaping hole

prancing and dancing as if by magic

the story is a sound that moves me far away

then melancholy it stirs my emotions to sway

I weep as it captures my all, in tender heart

joy is at an end before again it starts

The sky fell

Temperate disease, iradical power

Alters delightfull to bitter and sour

the question on humanity’s lips

‘where were you, when it fell’ 

A moment of peace or peaceful desire

Left in a quandary, impeccable choir

The sky so vivid with burning colour

momentarily blind, an explosion of fire

Crows lay around with a deathly hope

remaining carcass, immovable scrub soap

all is well, yet there’s darkness inside

contradicting action, posthumously hide

The largest flower most beautiful bloom

brings the finality far too soon

crest of dust, mighty throne

peaceful surge, though not for long

Ineluctable darkness in the glorious sun

shrouded in a cloak of what’s to come

some will simply wonder why

was it a message from heaven or hell? 

others will never forget when the sky fell.

If I were King

Talk the talk 

Fight the fight

If I were king

I bloody well might

Silent reminder

a long queue of traffic at temporary lights 

rain briskly falling on the windscreen 

swish a swish the wipers sweep

drowning out the buzz I keep

clattering a pitter patter

screeching rubber thudding stop

hoot from the car behind 

waking from the trance, I hop

noise returning, no escape

the sound at night, a wee awake

deep loss of joy is my pay and stake

Spring awake

Enlightenment of spring, 

burst into early existence reaching for a peek at the sky 

fragility of a slim stalk begging why?

a beautiful hue of yellow trumpeted fragility 

singularly is sparsely weak

in mass a chorus doth speak

Fitting in

If I have to be a conformist it’s with a rebellious ache

fitting in, within the line, 

I feel an eruption and a quake

denying freedom beguiles in me, 

a catastrophic shake

nightmares are so frightening 

yet even worse, while I am awake