Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Saturday Morning Blues

I don't know what I've been told,
But 21 ain't really that old,
Yet people act like I'm some great wise
man.

I remember back in '95,
It felt so damn good to be alive,
I'd spend my days hangin' out in the
park.

I wish I had some real talent,
Like Cat Stevens or Jimi Hendrix,
Or one of them other guys who can sing or play
guitar.

Hell that last line don't even rhyme,
I think I'm just doin' this to pass the time,
Or maybe there's a deeper purpose to it all
really.

After a bit of introspection,
It's clear I'm headin' in the wrong direction,
Or maybe I'm going the right way and my head's just screwed on
backwards.

Sunday, March 14, 2004

Coherence

"Perfection of truth and of reality has in the end the same character"

I gazed into the night sky
With childlike innocence
And a twinkle in my eye.

How many stars,
There's oh so many stars.
But which is which?
I asked cousin Lars.

He shrugged.
Idiot. This boy was 2 years
My senior and knew nothing
About anything.

Regardless. I returned
My gaze to the sparkling
Show in the sky
But my attention
Was taken by my
David Beckham Trading Cards.

It was there that
I saw the stars.
Then over on
My bike's handlebars.
And on Mum's
Old flower vase.
Even on the face
Of cousin Lars!

This may not make sense.
But that is not my fault.

Sunday, November 09, 2003

The Truth

The blind stares of six billion pairs of eyes,
Fill my thoughts with fear that’ll lead to my demise,
I could be deaf and I’d still hear the cries,
The image of a weeping child is louder than all the lies,
Integrity constantly fails no matter how hard it tries,
Whenever honesty is sought the seekers are chastised,
They cover up the facts like a blanket of ash from the skies
So the people can’t see from the ground, and when they try to rise
The corrupt leaders prevent the ascension of the wise,
Through all this fear only hate will arise,
There are so many lows we don’t recognise the highs,
Full stories are unheard of as they simply summarise
Because they fear what’s buried deepest beneath all of the lies…

…The Truth.

Saturday, November 08, 2003

My Window

Well I’m just sittin’ up here in my room,
Just my window, my chair and me,
I’m just sittin’ here lookin’ out my window,
To see what I can see.
I see a well-dressed man
Sayin’ he's got plans,
While he's driving his Ferrari.
I see a young man playin' his guitar,
Looking cool and stone free.
I see a couple of girls playin’ hopscotch,
While some boys climb up a tree,
An elderly man looks at his watch,
He hollers out ‘its a quarter past three!’
I see an Israeli and an Arab,
Arm in arm walking down the street,
Just chattin’ and jokin’ between themselves,
Being nice to everyone they meet.

All of a sudden a rock crashes through my window,
Pieces of glass all over the floor,
I look back up to my window frame,
But I cant see those things no more,
All I see is fire and darkness,
Hatred and animosity,
Now I’m confused as to what’s goin’ on,
But its as simple as can be,
See my window, it wasn’t real now,
All it was, was my hopes and dreams,
But this rock came along and broke it,
Ripped it apart right at the seams.
So I picked up this rock and wiped it down,
Cleaned it up so I could see,
And what I saw was pretty sad now,
The word I saw was reality.

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

Insomnolence

...Darkness and Light...

My darling, I apologise.
No harm was meant.
I fear your rage
And shall retreat to repent.

Entering my chamber
I extinguished the flame,
Resting on my bed
My head fills with your name.

I looked at your photo
And I began to weep,
So to stunt my sorrow
I lay my head down to sleep.

Ah, sleep!
The nocturnal ballet.
A means to drift away,
But my slumber faces delay
From the haunting chatter of the silent night.

I lay awake.

Oh to dance the dance of the entranced
While ghostly vapours haunt my view,
This darkened chamber lined with Demons
And visions of evil twisted askew.

I am still awake.

The Demons they draw closer,
The night it moves on,
The ghostly lantern shines,
As if t'were the sun.

Again, awake.

Yet this light is different,
A sense of mistrust between us,
It refuses to illuminate the evil
And banish the Demons into dust.

I tire, but do not fall.

Then you enter.
Your hair flowing o'er your nightdress
Like a phantom sent to haunt
My soul, which instead is removed of the duress.
You glide across the floor,
Expelling the Demons with
Your presence, which brings light
To me, evermore.

You lay your head next to mine,
The Demons retreat into the dark blue.
And now my mind is ready for respite,
Adieu my friends, adieu.