With rise and fall of right and all

Moving on again to its peak from finish 

I wonder if your love for me will diminish

As in the past some of us were strung 

upon the most local yew

and I fear I will be forever a hue askew 

an other, 


from the rest of you. 

My Vote

With idealism we aspire
for lives different;
ballot papers blotted
with our hopeful future.

We vote,
each laying claim
to the outcome of our futures,
All professing the right route,
with other’s outdated and passé

We shuffle in booths.
We post our desires.
Handing over wishlists
to be seen and discounted.

We attend the sparse
drips of news,
to see if our faith was well placed.
our aspirations dormant
awaiting fruition.

With a shuffle of feet and cabinet,
we see defeat.
With hopes unheard,
pausing dreams of
an ulterior status quo.