Silence paralyses, or so it would seem to those with empty papers and momentary words.
A reprieve in a blink of summer, the drudgery of the United Klouds vacate.
I’ve rediscovered my world, as if a marital feud ceased with a glance of all its bounty.
Beauty, peace and a true love, I cry in refrain.
It’s funny that time evolves all wounds,
We’re thought to heal as a species but we grow carcinogenic,
we grow old and weary of struggle.
We grow tired.
It was wondrous the ever lasting years of yellow dawn,
a love effervescent tickling smiles from a forlorn furrowed brow -a perma-scowl.
and as things fall apart,
I recall it was from the start, we knew of the pre-existing doom
of us two,
we used delusions, positive illusions to negate a real reality.
are all struggles growth? as my hearth flickers hot and cold,
if I am to endure, what besets me? I don’t know if to bestow upon myself
that which draws a weary yawn
as dusk creeps over
The sky ‘s a warm grey today.
I sit above it all in a leisurely replacement service.
Tupac’s lamenting his life to his unborn love.
I pass homes neglected and freshly built.
I do try to be a good person, but wonder…
– A friend once told me if I wonder I needn’t worry.
The Old Victorians hold witness to lives around and inside.
Again I wonder if I will ever be filled
with characters and stories
or a hushing quiet.
I see pools of sky blue, as the grey gives way.
Of the most forgiving of us
it is to turn the other cheek,
Only be slapped anew.
Perhaps soon we’ll turn to Che
or those solemn folks from the IRA
learning lessons of fire and ice.
do I see
and more clueless than ever before.
Or is this just the clarity
that adulthood offers?
And it seemed as if hopes were aloft
asunder from liberty’s grasp.
An ethereal hand washes
against the mundane plight.
I must rest my eyes, before
tomorrow’s light stings my eyes.
It seems like your voice comes only at times of sensitivity
dissonant opinion sharing -your subversive activity
“Don’t shoot the messenger -Oh…”
“I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate”
“People are evil”
-“they’re morally reprobate.”
But I tire of your distinct brand of banter
and your progressive take on the Trump banner,
regardless of what’s good and what is lost
it’ll not be your ethnicity
that pays the cost.
really that’s the only type of honesty there is.
A compliment bubbling through the lips of admiration.
un-tinged by the cynicism of self benefit.
Do I say thanks enough?
To those who do what I’ve come to expect.
To those who meet my assumptions, and fulfill my needs.
I wave a soon forgotten thanks
to those paused at the zebra crossing
allowing me to just catch the tram I would have just been late for.
My friends and family, bastions of support and love,
I see you,
even if my words do not reach your ears.
Perhaps I do not give enough meaningful thanks,
as I applaud my own hard work’s achievements.
But I’d be floored without your outstretched arms, your words
repairing my ego raising a coy smile.
Perhaps I shy away,
to give thanks is to admit a weakness, a vulnerability
healed by another’s words and actions,
a naked appreciation masked in a mini shame.
And so I’d like to thank you Ashley,
for all you’ve done
doing nothing special at all.