The Safety of Number

The vinyl crackles from the corner,

The strained heartache of the mourners

Mirrored as they arrive in throngs;

No one here quite knows where one belongs.

False allusions, the air tainted –

Not one fellow is acquainted

With those with whom they arrived here.

Random gaggles approach in fear;

In those groups they come, the lumber

Thick for the safety of number.

They sought – but they found - no solace

Expected peace that is modest,

Abundant, glorious, all theirs

And now they mourn what is not there.

Never was? One cannot be sure;

They certainly found an allure

Amongst the music of the room –

Too bad what they heard was not true.

Waiting

The wounds, under your skin

Shine a light on the fight you can’t win

With your guns and your weapons

To the enemy, you come second.

Try as you might, give it your all

Beaten down, you still stand tall

But that’s enough, the fight is rough,

You can’t win a war just with luck.

And I’m waiting, waiting,

To grant you your wish,

This Christmastime, the candle burns,

It’s held in your hands, the whole world turns.

If I could cast a miracle,

I’d give you all you ask

This winter night

In the light that you bask

I’d give you everything

And all the rest

But here I stand, empty now,

Useless and hopeless.

In the hollows of the waking day,

I’m the love that you need

And here we pray

Yet the wreath is laid.

Here you are, the seasons are wild,

Let them face your inner child.

Stubborn and strong, you won’t give up

Steadfast heart, you hold onto love.

With the wake of the day, you face the storm

Cold and dark, yet your heart’s still warm

Chasing the wind, chase it away

Moving on to see the next day.

And I’m waiting, waiting,

To grant you your wish,

This Christmastime, the candle burns,

It’s held in your hands, the whole world turns.

If I could cast a miracle,

I’d give you all you ask

This winter night

In the light that you bask

I’d give you everything

And all the rest

But here I stand, empty now,

Useless and hopeless.

In the hollows of the waking day,

I’m the love that you need

And here we pray

Yet the wreath is laid.

I hold up my hands

I know I’ve done all that I can.

There’s not much more left to say

Except I hope to say that you’ll be back soon,

Back to me one day.

If I could cast a miracle,

I’d give you all you ask

This winter night

In the light that you bask

I’d give you everything

And all the rest

But here I stand, empty now,

Useless and hopeless.

In the hollows of the waking day,

I’m the love that you need

And here we pray

Yet the wreath is laid.

The Fallen Old Log

He sits ready on the fallen old log
Awaiting a tale of high mystery
Found in the depths of a mind cloaked in fog,
A story reshaped all through history.
The man recalls about his long-lost love
Hiding under a different - fresh - name
Yet it never gets old. A soaring dove
Circles above, a gift of peace, a flame
Of new hope. A love reborn forever
And not aging. Unlike this sage, who speaks
Of what is lost, holds tight as a tether
When he must let go, must change what he seeks.

His love is a memory, gold indeed;
What is so precious is not what he needs.

Slack

Trap him with whispers
And beat him with taunts.
Ridicule that which
He flounces and flaunts.
Rattle his bones,
And watch him twitch,
Make him hear voices,
Those that bewitch

Both the meek naïve
And the steadfast wary.
Invoke those dreams
That recur, never vary
And instead pray upon him,
His outlandish ideals.
Test what he thinks,
Second-guess what he feels.

What's your reality?
What do you see?
From all of his doubt
He will never be free.
Hear our winds call
And speak to his fears
Until his resolve is broken
By a faint stream of tears.

Burn him inside out,
Words drenched in acid.
Now he is ravaged, far from
His past, tame and placid.
He's changing before us
Into something never seen.
Nothing to recognise, gone,
From the wreckage we cannot glean

A single memory. Down and out.
His body is slack.
But amongst this ruin
His voice still speaks back.
His voice fights back.

The Chase

I am no hunter

So why partake in the chase?

I drop my gun -

This is no hunt. This is no race.

Nor am I the hunted,

The weak. I am strong, running free

With no more constraint because

Nature is mine. To live is to see.

I am not waiting like prey 

Fearful of the bite,

But I am not ruthless by

Dancing and leaping amongst the fight.

A bullet cannot hit me anymore

Or at least leave a scar.

Time is a shield

That I have not used so far.

The hunting ground is small

But I have no role in this war;

For now I seek safety,

Seek to wander No Man's Land no more.

I hope the wounded seek it soon, too - 

All in good time.

I have watched these hunts, but it is time I turned

To find a land that I can call mine.