Ignore the monkey,
Ignore the fool.
Ignore chameleons,
They just want to rule.

Ignore the grape vine,
Ignore the touch.
Ignore the Joneses,
They just need too much.

Ignore the magic,
Ignore the spell.
Ignore the weaver,
With too much truth to sell.

Ignore the keyboard,
Ignore the blues.
Ignore the warriors,
With mediaeval views.

Ignore the honey,
Ignore the kiss.
Ignore the ignorant,
Revelling in bliss.

Ignore the compass
Ignore the tree,
Ignore diviners of life,
.....Especially me

Thank you

Thank you very much

Believe me I'm more mellow than my writing would suggest

Somethings could have been different but the pen that writes our life has no eraser. You may try to plan your future but there are a billions pens scribbling on the same page, lines will be crossed, futures will become eligible. It is the bad days as well as the good that make you who you are. :) x

I built my life upon the sand,
I never planned for stability.
If life is fog-bound past your hand,
What need for visibility.
With no compass to guide me
No twitcher to sly me,
No dreams to defy me,
Build up and deny me,
Life just happened.

Sometimes I drift too far from land,
Drenched by life's futility.
But bloodied I have made my stand,
Mullish in my ability.
With no mob to guide me,
No preacher to sly me,
No gods to defy me,
Praise up and deny me,
Life just happened.

And I'm happy.

Chain my heart,
Lest it should flee me,
For such beauty does enflame it so.
Berate my eyes,
For if they lie,
And such a vision is untrue.
Could I live?
Comparing all.
With a thought,
I thought was you.

Trust my mind,
It does not fake me,
It has not the art to conjure so.
I tremble not,
With feared deceit,
For in relief the vision grew.
Now I live,
Comparing none.
But one thought,
A thought of you.

Thank you. I am slightly frustrated by the lack of tolerance in the world. By all means feel free to choose your religious, political or racial allegiances but at the same time allow me to just live my life in peace. :)

Thank you :)

Was ever life as meek as mine?
Herded to persuasion.
Cowered by belligerent storms,
Abstaining provocation.
This world, this mire, these bitter pills,
This barming pot of cultural ills.
Violated minds, tilted wills,
And cleansing correlation.

I seek no fight in lieu of peace,
No assertive conversation.
Contemptuous preaching to the lay,
Or coercive meditation.
This world, this cage, this itching lair,
Of seedless glory, ripe despair.
Cast the peace, and leave me there,
In tranquil isolation.

Thankyou, I use to read a lot of King's books when I was younger. Not so much now as I love fantasy more than horror :)

No Time To Be 21- The Adverts

Lily the Pink - The Scaffold

High upon a summit lair,
Eyes survey a concrete cage.
Senses cleave through moistened air,
To fire up a hunters rage.
An ancient call,
To feed the lust.
Indulge the curse,
Or suffer dust.

Far below the prey moves on,
Ritual runs down phobic streets.
Deafened by the city’s song,
Blinded as fluorescent heats.
She fears the dark,
Embraces light.
And prays to god,
To raise the night.

Deep within this seeker’s eye,
As torment ‘tempts to overcome.
Anguish steeps into a cry,
Rigid courses come undone.
Entangled heart,
Forsakes his race.
His mind consumed,
Within a face.

Unaware the prey moves on,
Careless of the fate she fires.
Beauty reaching to the dead,
Past the realms of nature’s shires.
She knows not of,
The heat she weaves.
Upon the soul,
Beneath the eaves.

The sun claws a mourning sky,
Searing heat, a sweet release.
Raining tears and ashes fly,
Pain and torment finally cease.
To suffered death,
Was not enough.
It paled beneath,
The pain of love.

"There's just not enough money" smarmed the Goblin,
As he reclined on his mountain of gold.
"Just one grain from your desert of plenty" said the Donkey,
"And I'd consider my services sold."
"I don't need you" smiled the Goblin,
"Although there is plenty of work to be done."
"Why employ many to do it."
"When it is cheaper to overwork one?"

Once there was a group who believed the sky was blue.
Another group thought it was pink.
Another group thought it was yellow.
Another group thought it was red.
And another thought it was grey.
Each group felt the sky needed to be worshipped and set about extolling the virtues of their chosen colour whilst tolerating with amusement the views of the other misguided groups.
As the years passed and arrogance and self-righteousness flourished tolerance turned to hate and indignation. How dare the misguided insult the sky with their corrupted spectrums. This heresy would not be tolerated any more. Let the cleansing begin!
The groups went to war, slaughtering each other in their thousands. And as each generation fell another grew up to take its place.
There were those who felt it was not necessary to worry about the colour of the sky, who did not believe it was essential to a peaceful existence. But to the fanatics, disbelief was as heretic as misbelief and so the whole world was drawn into the bloody vortex.
Had the sky a voice it could have stopped the slaughter. It could have said it was all those colours. It could have said it had been there for all time and would continue for all time irrespective of whether the groups worshipped it or not. It needed not the imagined supremacy of needy worshipers to continue its daily purpose of being. All these things it could have said but didn't..... because it was just a sky!

And maybe if it could talk, maybe it wouldn't want to talk to the living. Maybe it would prefer to talk to the dead and apologise to all the innocents slaughtered in its name!!

Thank you

Thank you

Tommy died in the war last night,
He weren't too pleased, it weren't his fight.
The generals threw stones, from the back of the class,
And sent Tommy out to die on the grass.

Tommy died in the war last night,
But don't you worry, they'll see he's all right.
They'll bury him deep, even strike up a band,
For dying with honour, in some foreign land.

Tommy died in the war last night,
But because of his effort, they gave up the fight.
So after the bullets, the blood and the gore,
He only just missed, the end of the war.

Yes Tommy you died in the war last night,
But thanks for your effort, now everything's right.
'Though the 'last resort' cost, a million men,
It was finally resolved, by the stroke of a pen.

Thank you x