Scratched Vinyl

How is an individual defined;

by their actions or consequential reactions?

When the scenes have run

they cannot be undone

and your hand is forced to be aligned.

How is an individual designed;

to focus on one attraction or allow distractions?

To seek out some fun

and remember that one,

but it's too late when you're already intertwined.

Your love is a scratched vinyl

and the flawed echo seems final,

I must pull the needle away.

The beauty will always be there

but it's fruitless to repair

a record that has had its day.

So let the record fade out

or swear your song is devout

and give it another try.

But it will soon become clear

if the words have been sincere

with the last note's solemn sigh.

The Defeatist Design

I cannot allow defeat to defeatism,

so I'll defeat my demons instead.

I must beat the feeling I'm already beaten

or face giving up my soul to the dead.

Yet death is something conclusive,

and it is finality I have always wanted.

If I could see the plans in their clear contrast

I would not feel so damned and daunted.

If I could capture every mistaken moment

like some embarrassing polaroid snap,

the details might be free to observe at will

but more dwelling would not prevent their mishap.

So conclusion is something of a fairweather friend

which falsely shows up at the end;

maybe I'm better to be beaten by the dark,

for on the dark I can always depend...

A Tug of War Between Hope and Despair

Take me,

leave me alone,

throw me away,

throw me a bone.

Make me feel used,

make me feel new,

just let me be

or let me be with you.

Caught on the Path

Sometimes I treat my body like a temple;

others like a junkie's den.

It's like I'm caught on the path between the two.

I guess

(either way),

I'll bump into Jesus sooner or later.

A Long Walk with Nowhere to Go

The butter moon melts a path into the silky streets

to guide along uneasy feet.

With no-one to meet and nowhere to go

I keep my pace unreasonably slow.

With food for thought, my stomach is full

and I'm sick of feeling this constant pull,

too timid to push, I simply resist

in the hope that in absence I may be missed.

I find comfort in the plots of my dreams

where everything is just slightly different than it seems,

and this altered state is what keeps my blistered feet going

on to a future that I am scared of knowing.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

I'll be your rock

if you'll be my hard place

and we'll find ourselves stuck

between the grim and your grace.

I'll be your escape

if you'll keep me trapped,

the more difficult you make it,

the more I'll adapt.

I'll be your rock

if you'll be my hard place

and we'll find ourselves stuck

between the grim and your grace.

Cold Truth

Watery eyes look up at star clad skies.
How beautiful you look tonight.
Oh, what I'd give to join you.
Oh, what I'd give to die.
They say that fear prevents the final act
and that it is in friends where we reflect
but continuing shows more cowardice,
to live with within comfortable fact.
So I take one step outside my comfort zone
and follow where my feather feet are blown.
I see no solace in my ice-cold stare.

I realised I was alone.

Caught Mid-Float

What is this illimitable cage

that we let our logic blow around in?

Like a candy wrapper in the wind;

full of youthful innocence,

devoid of the sweet joy inside.

Let us be more than a litter of letters.

Where will the wind stop?

Where will those those thoughts land

which, at present, seem so far from home?

Are we bounded by the concrete coasts

of our solid skulls

or is the oceanic air

enough to take us across to new wonders?

Leave me to float aimlessly

for as long as necessary,

but please let me finally land

at a place I can call home.

Flight

Carpenter, fix my wooden wings

and teach me how to fly.

Guide me away from hazy clouds,

but leave me in the sky.

Oh Lord, let my runway be clear

for when I touch the ground.

Let my journey be smooth and safe,

pray don't let me be downed.

Jesus, give me the stength to roam

but not to stray too far.

Keep me within your larger plans,

and remind me who we are.

Burning Game

Feelings become flights of fancy

in the flickering of your flame,

and although it's hard to gauge the heat

for my blistered burns you hold no blame.

Some take love as a solemn law

and others as a light-hearted game,

I cannot be a pawn on your board

if you cannot promise me the same.

So dowse your embers before they light

or let your fires take their full aim,

but don't leave it in a lukewarm limbo

where neither Heaven nor Hell make their claim.

Pray for Me, Jesus...

I've seen a darker shade of white

and now I can't see wrong from right.

I've been found when I was lost,

but tell me Jesus, at what cost?

Can't you guide me back into the light?

Guide me to the sky,

and count up my sins.

You have to let life pass me by

if you're gonna let me in.

You told me my soul was worth saving

and that heaven could ease my craving

but when my hair is too short

to ever be a part of your sort

why even bother behaving?

Guide me to the sky,

and count up my sins.

You have to let life pass me by

if you're gonna let me in.

Pining for Meaning

I hear God whisper amidst the thunder

but I cannot understand what he's saying.

I see Jesus in a mist of wonder

but he cannot look past to see my praying.

And the needles of the pine are stuck to my thigh

and the dark of the sun has caught the small of my eye.

I'd be telling a lie if I said I was fine,

at this moment in time I am feeling divine.

I see Satan in the shade of greatness

and he seems to be tolling up my sins.

I implore to Peter about my soul's straightness

but he is adamant I shall not go in.

And the apple in the tree is calling to me

and the taste in my heart is setting me free.

I might  have found my beliefs are at sea

but this master key makes me a devotee.

Tab

Your name's been on the tip of my tongue for so long,

and like an acid tab, I know it's wrong

but I can't help but feel strong.

You make me feel like I belong.

Revolving Doors

Stuck between revolving doors,

I am waiting for whoever's next

to push me through my own flaws

and find myself within her paws.

Stuck between revolving doors,

I am resenting the last

for turning walks into wars

and leaving me with these sores.

Stuck between revolving doors,

I am waiting for whoever's next

to push me through my own flaws

and find myself within her paws.

Force-Feed

Fools force-feed

to facilitate their greed.

You will find the fuel in food

when driven by need.

Revisit/Reinvent

Life continually throws up the same few scenes

masked by modifications and slight revisions.

An opportunity for us to change what has been

but repeating steps with clockwork precision.

The fates rarely throw up dramatic changes

but subtle differences sneak with the seasons,

and you may repeat the same exchanges

but initiate them for different reasons.

Given the chance, would you revisit or reinvent

in that central moment of your life's spherical plot?

If you could direct the time you had spent

would you change it and risk losing what you've got?

One Track

Senseless senses outweigh prior pretenses,

rationality and reason are lost.

All thought has turned to the filth you have earned

with little concern for tomorrow's cost.

OD

Down the drain, up my nose.

Push me over, hold me close.

You are my thorn, you are my rose;

you are my cure, my overdose.

All is Fair...

I once felt so honoured to be your disposable body,

the hero who would kiss your enemies to death.

You paid dutiful respects at the funeral of you and me,

but shed no tear over our final parting breath.

You pleaded ignorance when out of the public's eye

and searched for the next tangle to initiate

knowing very well that they would also die

blundering through the no-man's land of love and hate.

Remould

Brief tilts will not collapse the mould

unless constant and committed

but the final push is all it takes

for a change to be acquitted.

You have no grounds to make a stand

if you lean on unstable walls,

a balance must be maintained

to overcome fear of the fall.

So take the first and hardest step

on the path to being something new,

not to create another persona

but to become the best of you.

Shadow Chase

I watched my shadow stroll across the street

and had to practically beg him to wait for me.

When the morning sun hit its piercing peak,

he waved goodbye and cried "I'm free!"

He gave a leap and clicked his heels

just to emphasize his state of glee

and as I tried to keep up with him

he wandered somewhere I could not see.

I let his pull guide my every step

but he was just as eager to flee,

we reached the coast, he took a dive

and now my shadow is lost at sea.

Put Down

No care for caution

in a casual kind of way,

I strolled into your claws

and had no intentions to stay.

Did I scratch the surface

on your list of demands

or was you waiting to be put down

by my able, willing hands?

I have tried to be fair;

as fair as your features seem,

but the relativity is too delicate

for me to be your childhood dream.

Out of Touch

Depth is defined by the shallow,

for those who drown too much

in the pit of their perceptions

and those who have lost touch.

Out of Reach

When four becomes zero,

when the branches have dissolved,

the leaves have all fallen

and the seasons have evolved

there lingers a whisper,

a faint trace of the past,

a slight hope to hold on to

so we can make moments last

but the butterfly is thinning

and its far from my skin.

You're losing your wings,

I'm losing my grin.

Smiles Behind Dustmasks

A forgotten world, so gritty and grim

yet full of the ethics which made us proud.

Thick powders of dust in which you could swim

packed full of the hope which time's not allowed.

I wish to go back to this greyer grass

which I've heard so many stories about

but I'm seeing parallels with out past

and I find the vibes are in their second bout.

Bridged between defamation and delight,

we're in the slog away from recession;

determined to put all our mistakes right

we're in a world of euphoric progression.

And so a bit of squalor makes me smile

knowing the future scenes it could compile.