Your hands are up against the wall
The seconds pass but they never fall
A grain of sand can be a cannon ball
The speeding bullet leaves no trace at all
And you think you might cross the line
But your'e still just a clock wasting time
They line you up in the noon day sun
Stand you there and point the gun
Ask you son if there's somebody you wanna call
And you look up into the blazing sky
And beg your father please tell me why
I am made to suffer the indignities of grace
And you think that you might cross the line
That mercy might walk by, or show her face
But you know like a clock you're just wasting time
Cos we're all just standing up against the wall
Can there be an Eden where all our thoughts stand still?
That little forest path on the edge of the hill
That place in which time and love are held in suspension
Like the clock had stopped and we were held in detention
It happened to me once, then it happened the other way around
A friend hurt me, now I've hurt a friend
And how do we know just what we will do?
When love comes to call, when love comes to call?
I was walking in the forest of good intent
And thought I spied a deer so towards her I lent
I shot my arrow, it hit her heart and down she did fall
How do we know what we'll do
When love comes to call?
Fire your burning arrows, ye gods, ye gods
Some of you play with our hearts
Like you play the fish with your bait and rods
Some of you toss the coin, some roll the dice
But its all the same in the final flame
When your hearts turn to ice
I thought I saw you in a dream, your
Grass snakes out numbered me
We dug them out, did they return?
All I know is how hot the arrows burn
When love comes to call
When love comes to call
Sunday, 10 March 2019
When love comes to call
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Monday, 4 March 2019
Good Bye Vienna
Well its
goodbye Vienna
And so long
Saigon
Hello
Honolulu
And my love
is long gone
Ten
thousand miles
On the
blade of a knife
But it
never cut me once
Not like my
life
I shot
through the country
And into
the yard
And at the
back of the city
My head hit
down hard
Well its
ten thousand borders
That I need
to cross
But just
one line between us
That
decides a win or a loss
And I don’t
like to gamble
With my
heart in that way
Its already
a shamble,
like a
needle in the hay
I’ve lost
my bearing
Somewhere on
your map
And you’re
out of my hearing
As you sit
on my lap
There’s a wild unknown country
Where I
must go
And so its
out of the city
And on with
the show
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Where do those rails run?
Cold iron, cold iron
Where do these rails run?
Into the cold heart of the country
Into the hearts of everyone
Cold iron in my soul
A sliver of shrapnel
Just the last part
Of the bullet in my heart
Where you shot me
Cold iron, cold iron
Come to take my cares away
From the cold, cold morning
Of the railway
Cold iron in the north wind
Cold iron to the west
All I see are cold iron people
Wearing their chain mail vests
Come lay down your sleepers
Come lay them to rest
Cold iron creepers
Like vipers leaving the nest
Up past the scrub-land
Of the good intention
Out to the bone white trees
Into the frozen hands
Of a cold morning's breeze
Too cold to carry pretension
Some rails lead nowhere
Some tracks are dead
Some are like wild hair
Growing on a homeless man's head
Some sleepers are just rotten
They never find a bed
They can sleep no longer-they've forgotten
How to rest their heads
But the cold iron will remains
Even if their rails
Will carry no more trains
Their intention has been hammered down
By nine inch nails
Coffin ground, coffin ground
I can hear that coughin' sound
From the heart and lungs on fire
Smoke pours out from Hell's choir
Coffin ground where they lay their iron
Across the world, made their bed to lie on
Where are those rails running?
The devil knows and his cunning
Where have them rails run?
From hell below to heaven's sun
Where do these rails run?
Into the cold heart of the country
Into the hearts of everyone
Cold iron in my soul
A sliver of shrapnel
Just the last part
Of the bullet in my heart
Where you shot me
Cold iron, cold iron
Come to take my cares away
From the cold, cold morning
Of the railway
Cold iron in the north wind
Cold iron to the west
All I see are cold iron people
Wearing their chain mail vests
Come lay down your sleepers
Come lay them to rest
Cold iron creepers
Like vipers leaving the nest
Up past the scrub-land
Of the good intention
Out to the bone white trees
Into the frozen hands
Of a cold morning's breeze
Too cold to carry pretension
Some rails lead nowhere
Some tracks are dead
Some are like wild hair
Growing on a homeless man's head
Some sleepers are just rotten
They never find a bed
They can sleep no longer-they've forgotten
How to rest their heads
But the cold iron will remains
Even if their rails
Will carry no more trains
Their intention has been hammered down
By nine inch nails
Coffin ground, coffin ground
I can hear that coughin' sound
From the heart and lungs on fire
Smoke pours out from Hell's choir
Coffin ground where they lay their iron
Across the world, made their bed to lie on
Where are those rails running?
The devil knows and his cunning
Where have them rails run?
From hell below to heaven's sun
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 3 March 2019
Let you go
I'm sorry I never meant to go
Down the streets against love's flow
Where people always fight
The sons of darkness
The daughters of light
To the towers of despair
I never meant to meet you there
I never meant to climb their stair
Just to find you
Just looking for you
I never meant to die for you
To seek you, or lie for you
In the pond of regret
Where we ponder and reflect
We are just tear drops
causing a ripple effect
Twisting beauty out of shape
Making pain in the neck nape
But slowly the image that was perfect
Has gone, its shattered like an ice lake
With the cracks in its surface
I began to lose your face
In the memories I make
I'm sorry I never meant to let you go
In the river's turbid flow
I never meant to let you drown
Or let you down
Now you're the queen
And I'm the clown
Down the streets against love's flow
Where people always fight
The sons of darkness
The daughters of light
To the towers of despair
I never meant to meet you there
I never meant to climb their stair
Just to find you
Just looking for you
I never meant to die for you
To seek you, or lie for you
In the pond of regret
Where we ponder and reflect
We are just tear drops
causing a ripple effect
Twisting beauty out of shape
Making pain in the neck nape
But slowly the image that was perfect
Has gone, its shattered like an ice lake
With the cracks in its surface
I began to lose your face
In the memories I make
I'm sorry I never meant to let you go
In the river's turbid flow
I never meant to let you drown
Or let you down
Now you're the queen
And I'm the clown
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
The War of the Roses
You give
them away
A petal a
day
A piece of
your heart
For you own
peace of mind
The Queen of hearts turned down her thumb
The ax fell, what's done is done
Another dead head
In the rose garden of her soul
The white
and the red
They fight
in your bed
And prick
your sides with their thorn
It was more
truth than lies
That tore
at your pride
And it hurt
just like being born
Oh please
tell me why
When all
loves may die
Must the
War of the Roses rage on?
They cut up
their soldiers
In a paper
chain
And send
them marching into the fray
Again, and
again
But you
just give them away
A petal a
day
A paper
heart inside a paper cup
No use
screwing up
Those love
letters you never sent
Just to
scribble them again to vent
Your
frustrations on the situation
It is impermeable,
like a fish tank
You can’t
get out
And
everyone just watches you
Swimming
around and about
With no
particular purpose
No definite
scheme
Just a
clown in a circus
Or a boat
adrift in a stream
No one said life was a bed of Roses
You made your bed now lie in it
We all wear the thorny crown
Each have our crosses to bear
There must come a night
Between the white and red light
When you have to decide to pick a side
So please tell me why
When all love may die
Must the War of the Roses
Rage on?
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Women on a train
Women on a train
Like snakes on plane
Biting like vipers, shaking their mane
Drinking their vodkas in the quiet zone
The quiet zone, you did hear me right
"Quiet Zone" - "To RELAX" I want to shout
But they party on, toasting cheering
Not that I'm a killjoy
I just enjoy the peace and quiet
And I felt my employ
Hard enough this last month
To buy it
Therefore we had right on our side
Didn't we? We did!
And that is why I sidled up ta
The ticket conductor
To explain what the sign forbid
And point out their errant
rule breaking
As if some truant kid
In my mind they were due a detention
And I was the rat who dobbed them in
For my part I don't regret it,
They spoiled our journey
With their raving, bad behaving,
Their mock yawning
As if to show others respect were boring
And so they deserved their comeuppance
And receive a dose they did
Although a gentle but firm reprimand
At the hand of the conductor / the train God
Who gave them a scolding showed them the iron rod
Their eyes flickered in unnerving vengeful certainty
Seeking out their accuser / me
The atmosphere quietened to a whisper
Of the forked tongues of snakes hissing
Behind their teeth
The joke was on them in the end
And we alighted from the car
The trail of their wounding scar
Across their backs
Yet what conceited creatures were they
Like snakes on plane
Biting like vipers, shaking their mane
Drinking their vodkas in the quiet zone
The quiet zone, you did hear me right
"Quiet Zone" - "To RELAX" I want to shout
But they party on, toasting cheering
Not that I'm a killjoy
I just enjoy the peace and quiet
And I felt my employ
Hard enough this last month
To buy it
Therefore we had right on our side
Didn't we? We did!
And that is why I sidled up ta
The ticket conductor
To explain what the sign forbid
And point out their errant
rule breaking
As if some truant kid
In my mind they were due a detention
And I was the rat who dobbed them in
For my part I don't regret it,
They spoiled our journey
With their raving, bad behaving,
Their mock yawning
As if to show others respect were boring
And so they deserved their comeuppance
And receive a dose they did
Although a gentle but firm reprimand
At the hand of the conductor / the train God
Who gave them a scolding showed them the iron rod
Their eyes flickered in unnerving vengeful certainty
Seeking out their accuser / me
The atmosphere quietened to a whisper
Of the forked tongues of snakes hissing
Behind their teeth
The joke was on them in the end
And we alighted from the car
The trail of their wounding scar
Across their backs
Yet what conceited creatures were they
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Pangs
I have pangs of sadness
Pangs of regret
Temporary things I cannot forget
Fleeting as sea gulls
Across summer skies
Like islands in the river
That rise then subside
I have pangs like shoulders
I shrug
Pangs like ripples
In an otherwise smooth rug
Pangs I want to iron out
Pangs that will not flatten
That want to shout
There are bitter fruit
That will not ripen
That hang on low branches of my gut
So low they brush the ground
Where weevils turn, worms are found
And the apples turn brown
Pangs like shattered glass in my soul
Like glass slippers I stole
But could not give back
Pangs of a dance
Where my feet were flat
And the music stopped
And when I got off
There were no more pangs
After that
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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