Best Audio Poems
I shore up my doubt, behind a loosely bound hope
Which in turn is propped up without foundation
Cynical of a life, at the mercy of luck
Collateral damage feeds my reservation
I shore up my tomorrow with what I see today
Without conspiracy or investigation
I place trust in all that’s completely unfettered
For fear, I’m left to this present resignation
I shore up my life with whatever came before
Not hindsight or academic education
The oblivion traversed until I was born
Strings along primal echoes of information
I shore up my conscious with bliss and ignorance
Interspersed with indifference on occasion
It’s not I don’t care about suffering and death
Rather, I’m desensitised by their pervasion
I shore up my denial with an open mind
Which is nothing except raw interpretation
This planet spins correctly, even though tilted
Not by wishful thinking, but strange gravitation
I shore up my boredom, trying to fall asleep
When really tired, will attempt hibernation
Anything to forget this human condition
After remembering, I’m long past salvation
I shore up my heaven, by creating a hell
Balance looks more appealing, in an equation
Gaze upon purgatory, and share what I see
Not because I’m kind, it’s more my destination
I shore up this poem by claiming it’s my own
But in truth, it’s an open collaboration
I conspire with the musings of all that’s unclear
They dwell inside me, in flawless aberration
- - - - - - -
(And as the sky darkened I heard these words)
better to face hell alone ~ than bring the whole world along for the ride
said the moon eclipsing the sun ~ who replied son I’m right behind you
And when my body tires of me
I lie beneath a chestnut tree,
rolling among the broken burrs
where solid sleep rarely occurs
Waking up is the toughest part
when I've never slept to start.
I fear no place except the bed;
where pillows weigh upon my head
Memory foam gives no assistance;
insomnia thrives on resistance
It waits til eyes are almost closed,
never unconscious, then reloads
'Neath the tree is more appealing
than tracing welts upon my ceiling;
each one reflects a calloused lie,
the burrs tattooed on my naked eye
drilling dread into tomorrow night,
a future where there's no respite
This bed has worn me to the bone,
or have I worn its frame alone?
No dreams arrive; the lucid stays,
a consciousness that only strays
far from the tree l'm primed to be-
or not to be, ‘mid autumn debris.
# # #
I’m tired of the chestnut tree’s shade ~
being gentler than the bed I’ve made
I'm standing by the mountain that reaches up so high.
I'm looking toward the heavens and asking for a reason why?
In the shadow of that mountain, I can't see my way through...
but I'll start climbing for the summit because I know I walk with you.
He'll lead me to the highest, he'll lift me and I'll fly,
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
I'm wading through the waters that flow down, so deep.
I'm searching for the answers, but in faith, I will leap...
into the deepest, darkest waters, I can't see my way through...
But I'll keep wading through the waters because I know I go with you.
He'll lead me across the waters, hold out His hand and I'll try,
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
I'm sitting In the garden that is withering each day.
I'm waiting for my time and while I wait, I will pray...
That when the winter winds begin to blow and my breath is released;
I’ll recall the mountain and the valley, with love and in perfect peace.
He'll lead me to the garden, He'll hold me as I pray and cry,
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
I'm lying in the pasture that spreads out far and wide.
I'm looking for the Shepherd who is always so close by.
There now, in the distance, He waves and beckons me!
So I'll go now into that pasture that leads to my eternity.
He'll lead me through the pastures, He'll carry me home when I die.
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
day in the life of a coal miner
in the darkness you hear them
their boots clumping along the cobbled stones
not dawn yet ...yet still they are on their way to work
young lads of 15 plus.
these are miners sons
following the traditions
each generation go down the pit
twelve long hours
twelve hours in the dark and dust
twelve hours shovelling the coal
hewn by their elders.
horses are used to pull the trams along
eight hours they work....
young lads work longer.
their little food tins....tiny tins..
a chunk of bread if lucky a dripping sandwich
a bottle of water completed the feast.
they stumble on that cobbled road to home
tired and weary, hopefully a hot bath awaits them
in front of the fire.
nearly too tired to eat the meagre food set out
falling asleep dreaming of sunshine and fun
reality such a different story.
penned 18 May 2016
Audio Below
Friends..
Take us just as we are;
The rough and the smooth.
Accepted and loved.
With nothing to prove.
Friends..
Need us too;
Or that's what we hope.
Ask yourself this:
Are you sick, phat or dope?
Friends..
Gather together in twos, threes or fours.
Uplifting each other.
House and hearts;
Open doors.
Friends..
Share the mountainous journey,
the struggles, the views.
Friends are honest and patient.
All colours.
All hues.
Friends..
Whoever they are, whatever they're like;
Be they short, wide or lanky,
called Steph, Steve or Mike..
We should give as we take
and be present, for sure..
..as our friends are forever.
And maybe.. some more.
For some the beginning.
For some it's the end.
For many; days just merging
Into the blend.
But the concept of Friday
Is simply this;
It's the end of the work-week
Sealed with a kiss.
It's assurance of respite.
It's that glorious space
Loaded with promise.
It's the end of the race.
That comfiest armchair
Those slippers so snug.
It's like greeting a friend
With a lingering hug.
Is it really enough
If it's one out of seven?
Or should we be seeking
A little more heaven?
I think as I drive
Through the Autumnal streets
That all days are precious
And while life repeats..
Relax and enjoy them
Wherever you are..
For loving the journey
Will help take you far.
So Fridays, we love you,
To the end and the start.
And thank you for helping me
Reset my heart.
How far down do you need to go_
~to stand face to face and toe to toe_
~with that no-good son of a so and so?
Taking not only yourself but all you know.
Descending from on high to deep below_
How many of your friends are now your foe?
Rejecting all the trials meant to help you grow.
Didn’t you get the message or read the memo?
To suffer a little today and not eternal woe?
Did you forget the law of_ “Reap and Sow”?
You can’t ride with the devil_ you’re too slow_
He’s got the best saddle around this rodeo.
Lines his horse up four to a row_
Apocalyptic stallions galloping to and fro.
Charging full speed ahead with resilient gusto
Scorching hot winds from their lungs to blow_
Upon all those whose souls don’t glow_
From hot veins where passion flow_
~and fight to reject vile secret audio
~silent messages broadcast on radio.
Mind control media from news to talk show.
Wouldn’t go near him as far as I can throw.
Best not stomp around but quietly tiptoe.
Take your heart off your sleeve keep it undertow.
If you failed today try again tomorrow
For your deeds complies_ gifted wrapped in a bow
Your final payment is what you’ll come to owe.
Your bold stance morphs a wispy cameo.
Ill-fated effects of enacted domino.
How far down do you need to go_
~to stand face to face and toe to toe_
~with that no-good son of a so and so?
Taking not only yourself but all you know.
Descending from on high to deep below_
Each wound I have suffered in my life so far
Has taken so long to form a battle scar
But what doesn't kill me, they say, will make me stronger still
And every wound I suffer will eventually heal
Pre-chorus:
This is the silent language of scars
You can read my soul like Braille
And for each sad story, for every sad tale
There are thousands that can't be seen
Because, like you,most of my scars,
Are inside of me
Chorus:*
A sisterhood of Scars
Making us who we are
You become a sister of ours
With every wound
And every battle scar
A sisterhood of Scars oh oh oh…
She was just trying to get home
After working hard all day
Just because she walked alone
That man marked her as prey.
And another who was only eight years old
Had her precious innocence shattered
And got the first wound on her soul
Pre-chorus:
Every scar I have is unique
Even though too many suffer
From The very same things
And none of them were free!
Each one earned through battle
Then a victory! Oh oh oh…
Chorus:*
Bridge:
My fellow warriors,
My sister's of the spear!
Sing this song out loud!
Because someone needs to hear
Maybe they think they're not strong
But unlike some, This strengths not in our arms!
It comes from with in, from our higher power and when…
…we realize we aren't alone, no not forgotten;
The wounds we have cannot spoil our soul rotten.
They form scars that make us tough,
Make us strong enough,
To go on…don't give up!
Let's hold our sisters up!
Verse 1)
You lay here beside me, but I feel so alone,
Your touch don’t feel like it’s mine, just skin and bone.
Every day, every year, I wonder what’s wrong,
When you say you love me, but it don’t feel strong.
(Chorus)
I don’t feel your love, I’m reaching for more,
We’re living in a house, but we’re strangers at the door.
I’m walking beside you, but my heart’s out of place,
Searching for a feeling I can’t seem to trace.
(Verse 2)
We share the moments, but your eyes don’t see,
The way I’m longing for love, the way I need to be.
Half my heart’s waiting, for something real,
But I can’t make you love me, no matter how I feel.
(Chorus)
I don’t feel your love, I’m reaching for more,
We’re living in a house, but we’re strangers at the door.
I’m walking beside you, but my heart’s out of place,
Searching for a feeling I can’t seem to trace.
(Bridge)
I’ve tried to reach you, but it’s like you’re not here,
I’m standing in the dark, still wishing you’d appear.
Maybe one day, you’ll see what lives about,
But for now, I’m standing, still waiting for love to come.
(Outro)
I don’t want to stay in this space of doubt,
I’m longing for love that’s real, no more running about.
I need to feel something that comes from the heart,
Cause right now, it feels like we’re worlds apart.
AUDIO VISUAL
What is a fight without a cause?
Is it just a hidden affair that has no voice?
Only knowledge that cannot be divulged and when discussed, the topic is irrelevant.
Mentality is a place of iniquity.
Mediums are designed by civil engineers to place mentally captured vestibules; those,
which will manifest identities.
You can hear their mundaneness in their conversation.
You do not want to speak to a naked wall.
As a result, they enter your vocal environment.
For that reason, you speak out.
___________________________________|
penned on october 24, 2014!
Audio hallucinations, voices not angelic, they're atrocious and scathing.
No one else hears whispering every now and then: Did you hear that?
Going mad a big fear; her visceral crazy dreams are becoming unclear.
Entertains, never complains of painful futile pursuit. Panic stricken, blames other.
Less what’s prescribed—dizzy, a soundproof booth she describes and it, a bother.
Outerspace, underground, heavens above, always hate! Where is love?
Reality vanishes, she comes undone—swears she hears something, someone.
Denials rest her mind; amassing piles of illusions and lies combined.
Experiments; government, bad karma! Conscience, angel or demon? Too much.
Mental illness? She is functioning and keeps it together. She’s in touch.
O God, a curse, be strong, in this damned world others suffering's much worse.
Nevertheless tries her best, she sleeps with one eye open, frightened.
—a healthy mind, a soul quest.
I haven’t written in a while
I seem to have lost my voice
I'm not sure where or when it left me
Or where to find it
I have a feeling its in different pieces
Shards of echoes
splattered inside old notepads
pressed between the cinderblocks of 10th grade biology
Humiliation is a powerful numbing agent
Paired hand in hand with cheap liquor
I can’t remember who I was angry at
I wish my face belonged to my brain
I wish my brain belonged to a body
That wasn’t itching for eternal rest
I wish my bones didn’t feel like shoes that don’t fit right
Too small, but you pretend they will stretch
Up until the point that the blisters can no longer be ignored.
I wish I hadn’t stopped reading books
I wish my parents watched sports, and smiled, and owned decorative pillows
I think my voice was suffocated
By boys who saw nothing but a mouth
I can talk now, but I’m mute
On autopilot, with closed captions written by you.
Hear that sound coming from your
television set
Government warning: This is not a test!
There’s no music rocking
from your radio
Only the shrill alert of an emergency signal
indicating transmission shutdown
Better put on an aluminum tin foil hat
to block out the penetrating EM waves
Unauthorized dark-net instructions
rapidly rappelling
over your cranial firewall
Audio emissions
spiking an intrusive breach
Fertile mind-control conditions,
activate the patriotic sleeper sells
Keep the pocketbook within reach
You never thought to ask
how did you get that small scar
on the side of your neck
When you went to the doctor
for a regular checkup visit
Anesthesia clouds your memory,
microchip implantation
not put on your medical history
Audio emissions
now have put someone else
in control of you
Stay on script to the program,
that’s all you can do
Can no longer block
the high-tech matrix
noise pollution coming through
Audio emissions
have made a human robot out of you
lets shout it out
lets move it to the streets
bang that car spanked-out speakers
to the rumble of the mass beat
now bass line that big crying baby
till it sounds
low and sweet (voice deep)
shake off all there inhibition
and bring them to the dance floor
now let the bass sound
take you
where you want to be
let the bass line hit you
so you can stomp your feet
(instrumental strong bass)
can you feel that rumble
and you feel the beat
bass line it up
so you don't
step on her feet
Oh no,
Ken messed up the audio,
This will instill rage into an introverted bro,
I'm serving purpose by not flipping furniture for show,
This show is worthless,
I'm perturbed,
Let's just play Pokemon Go!
I think mic's are magic cuz of my lack of understanding,
Working with a two bit hack devoid of tact is so demanding,
No idea what he's doing,
Losing views to this bad acting,
Audacity must be to complex to be influenced by his actions,
This punks no professional,
So we gon subtitle this transgressional,
It's not a bad reaction to say,
Ken messed up the audio!
Get Krekelered,
Bent with perceptive reflexes,
Removing hexes placed on fairer sexes,
Emotional caresses of feelings protected,
Burn ya to learn ya empathetic lessons,
No stop in sight to these sessions,
Endless supply of indiscretions,
Ripe to analyze with contrite reflections,
These vibes they vibe within prismatic prisms,
Exorcise your demons to exercise livin'.