#Governmentapproved

 

"Government approved"

 

 

But I don't approve peddling

 

 

With no direction.

Contrasted Cliffs

In layers of scratches and incisions

your form evolves along the bumps and bends,

shaped by passing time and man's decisions

where sturdy lives may meet their crumbling ends.

But amongst the chalk, granite and the sand

there is something of beauty to be found,

for throughout the differences of the land

it's all anchored by the same common ground.

So let age not define your sense of self

nor be it the colour you have been formed,

you are not your possessions or your wealth

but sculpted by the beliefs you have formed.

Do not discriminate texture or tone

but see beauty in all kinds of stone.

Cans

Home is where the heart is

or so I have been told

but it isn't the ones out on the streets

whose hearts are empty and cold.

Hungry and not heartless

not harmful, but hurting;

so their heinous criminalisation

is more than disconcerting.

And yet they're swept away

like empty cider cans,

dropped by ones not labelled for addictions;

dropped by privileged hands.

No-one's there to pick them up,

 they all just walk straight past

for they degrade this depressing city

and are looked upon as trash.

But don't throw them away,

recycling needs some sorting;

for every sorry state we find a use

with the right supporting.

See a can? Pick it up!

Put it where it belongs -

we should be looking for the good we can do,

not ignoring all that's wrong.

X Axis

Each year pulls me further to the left,

and I wonder if my standpoint

is an x-axis

and that I am therefore

growing more and more negative

or that it is in fact spherical

and I will come full circle.

Renovation (Lucifer's Ascent)

Demons emerge from the ground

wrought from ruthless steel and concrete.

A decaying world under their shadows drowned,

their conquest nearly complete.

Grotesque forms grasp for the skies,

Heaven's territory is threatened.

The old from consumption dies;

its ancient breath deadened.

Soulless galleries of glass now stand

where once stood old forma proud.

Gone are days of beauty grande

replaced by a more maligned modern brand.

Referring to the Ending (The Day We Left)

Breathless breakfast; Brexit breaks it.

We'd almost roll off the tongue

if not for the ex in the middle,

just as I rolled in tangled sheets

sweating over just how much the nation

hates immigration.

The pendulum swings

right to left

and back, drawing your curves

in vicious inertia and either way

we're in the red.

A pan-European project to address—

to counter-progress—

technocratic anemia: ecological

catastrophes and economic imbalances

spotlighted by iPhone notifications

of myopic irritations,

beside your

Italian leather

Scandinavian bed

made by migrants to mimic

a heavenly cloud where

only you may lay your head.

A Weapon Often Overlooked

R
 E
  M
   O                                                                              
    V                                                                                              SOCIETY.
     ESTABLISHMENT        :                                                 E
                                     O        DEMOCRACY'S                        S
                                    D        E                         L                       I
                                   A        E                         I                        R
                                 YOUTH                        P                        O
                                  .                                     P                        R
                                                                       I                         R
                                                                     N                        E
                                                                   GOVERNMENT
                                                                                                        

Universal System Attack

Fights are fought

until rights are bought

and then voices are lost

at free choice's cost;

so all facts are distorted

by who has reported

and who they've supported.

The Estranged Daughter

Less of a bridge over troubled water

but rotten crumbling boards and fraying ropes 

Mother Earth is estranged from her daughter

and the Father had abandoned all hopes.

So the child is left in the hands of thieves

blind to ill intentions of company kept,

for those with duty of care takes and leaves

the Father saw this and from afar wept

But he did not step in to intervene 

instead letting his child make her mistakes;

such was his effort to remain unseen

that he even missed visitation dates.

Daddy please return, and mend the bridge

I want to believe that you do still care

Daddy; a girl's on her knees making a wish

I need to believe that you could be there.

Worms

Words will wagger,

I'll wager,

like weary worms in earth.

I've heard your counter-

arguments

but cannot see their worth.

They are embroiled

in dirt

and hide within their hole.

Yet if we unearthed

enough worms

I'm sure it would take its toll.

Loss

Synthetic and coarse,

a wild untamed horse.

An indigo glow

with nowhere to go;

slow narrow lanes—

Meetings and migraines.

Pay at the pump

Clinton or trump—

the new fire or ice;

a roll of the dice

and the score is low...

An Indigo glow

—a wild untamed course—

the world shows no remorse

Renovations

Paint the low flying ceiling

to cover the smoke jaundiced cracks.

Anaesthetise all feeling

to forget the faux forged facts

Melt with me in the house of glass

with an espresso shot of oil.

Cackling so crude and crass

as the landscaper tears up the soil

We need more wood for the decking—

sure, just add it to the list!

Pretend this isn't our home that we're wrecking;

pretend that our children don't exist.

Aged Anarchy/On a limit

Adolescent dreams of anarchy and revolution

replaced by reality's convolution.

That disillusioned dreaming teen

replaced by dollar signs and routine

feeding the machine

rather than offering a solution.

---

But we've got five years left in the meter

and I can't help but feel

if we invest just a little more

change, we'll be safe from

the warden that lurks around the corner.

Melting Pot

The world will wither under the weight of dust

and the lies of the mass media.

First the oil will run out, and then the trust

descending into mass hysteria.

And all is in the hands of some elected fate

choosing between a burials or cremations;

whichever offers the best exchange rate

must be the best option for Earth's divided nations.

Throw your dollars, your euros and your pounds into a baseball cap

and melt them down for what they are worth.

Smother yourself into their smouldering sap

and save your skin before you save the Earth.

Cold Campaign

Egoistic lists govern my compulsive cabinet-

and though I see the policies that I pass

often alienate the public,

I care not for their votes.

Deep down,

I would rather display contempt towards these empty vessels

rather than fill them up with the ingredients of growth.

So I questioned if culture could cure the ignominious ignorant

when I killed their comatose cult;

but my misanthropic mindset met no well-taught contention;

victory tasted like an insult.

Biting Back at the Crocodiles

Fourteen billion eyes gaze

transfixed on the same thing;

their own self-centred sentiments.

If only we were staring at substance

instead of inconsequential ideals--

and as the starving skeleton stirs

from his lurid lacrimation

his sleepless lucid dreams

are controlled by a Sandman society.

Our own tears are filled with foul floods.

Illicit spills of banal and lilliputian "loss",

these opprobrious cathartic tears blind us

from a sight for sore eyes.

So let not our own troubles be a willing distraction

from our despondent and decaying domain,

but let them guide us into worthy action

and put a priority on the purging of proper pain.

#Participate

A man's inaction

is much more definitive

than any action.

Spur Change

Carve your way straight through her embracing arms

and point your pointless paths to pierce her heart.

Use convenience to justify harms

which had no necessity from the start.

Cars dart around like blood cells through her veins

but they splutter out their toxic gases.

The rash haste continues in switching lanes,

the toll of the road always amasses.

Now and then she buckles under the strain

in a display of downcast disaster.

Even the Earth struggles to hide her pain

when all of her woes come even faster.

And we all know, but we just look straight down 

like to a beggar wearing their poor frown.

Ruins

Foundations crumble over the passed years

and our monuments become our ruins.

We begin to architect our own fears

without noticing what we are doing.

We are the dust among our own rubble,

forever floating in a silent linger,

thick enough to cause lungs so much trouble

but fine enough to slip through our fingers.

And all of this beauty will be a mess

which must be swept up as if it was fake

to be covered up in some glossy dress

to distract from the chaos that we make.

Recently I have started to see the cracks

which cannot disguise what humanity lacks.

Martyr

I am waiting for you

to give me an excuse

because I'm out of my mind.

I am standing static

within your mind's attic

and I'm surrounded by mines.