Whistling Thief

The easterly gale blows hard
Robbing baby birds from nests
Falling from Mothers breast
Tumbling downwards to death

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Thoughts at a Funeral

Silence breaks sharply
As the church bells ring loud
This loss of a great life
Shan’t have been allowed

The Angels have claimed her
In a swift robbing of graves
Though I know of no real God
I plainly hope she’s been saved

Spring Casualties

Baby birds falling
From perches set up too high
Cruel circle of life

Ode To An Angel

Oh Jen you are to me
More special than could be
I proudly call you family
As you’ve treated me so kindly

My thoughts are with you now
At this time which is so hard
Stretch your wings out ‘mongst dark
To rise up and shine far above

Oh Jen you truly are
An Angel through and through
You’ve filled my life with joy
All my love I give to you

So hark, Angel don’t cry
Your Kids live on for you
We’ll dedicate all of our lives
To you whom we love – it’s true
            

Hit the Wall

Just can’t ditch the feeling
Of being haunted by a ghost
Her name is everywhere I look
Especially amongst fences of Rose

In March this town took her life
Or maybe she took her own
But now she’s everywhere I wander
Lining all paths I choose to go

Now I’m home she’s amongst me
Consuming all hopes and dreams
A parasite that remains silent
Lingering between torn seams

If she could say one thing to me
I know it would be “go to hell”
Seems she’s already dragged me there
Shit, it’s making my mind so unwell

So Shannon if you’re out there
Watching me high with spite
Please release me from this fear
And for us let me live this life

Evolution ramble

Mindlessly watching some documentary
typical archaeological recap of evolution

I’ve seen this shit a thousand times
Ice Age, Coldness, Hairy proto-humans

I’ve studied it like my life depended
on the discovery of Neanderthal bones

Reconstructions provide anatomical accuracy
evidence that can truly confirm – Yes,

My life has literally depended
on the death of another species

I Feel Ya, Buddy

No,

You don’t get a say

In a manic depressive’s ways

Until you’ve been to

The End’s of the Earth

Completely lost at sea

Drowned, hurled back in

Then torn apart at the seams

 

Once you’ve come back to rest

And you breech, gasp for air

A whip-lash kick to the teeth

Will send you spiraling back there.

To the midst of the soul-crushing depression

That laps, pants and drools.

It peels back your skin

Vicious claws used as tools.

Picking epidermis

              piece

                     by

                          piece

In such a way, you would rue

That sick twisted day

In which this demon itself

Chose its possession

To be you.