The bottle, empty lays dying in her hand
Half empty, half full who cares its in demand
On the face of it her friends seem to care
But turn her back and she better beware
Cider, spirits being exchanged as if gold
Rollies, cigarettes ready to be sold
The next fix is sat on the corner down the way
But with no money, it will be hard to pay
Services exchanged with rates of pay agreed
The drugs will always win, time to concede
C.Hawkins 21/5/20
Disappearing under the weight of it all
For the hurt of it all
For the need of it all
Until I dont recognise myself amidst of it all
For the fear of it all
For the pain of it all
My smile hides the lies of it all
For the deceit of it all
For the despair of it all
Until I ask why do I care at all
For the games of it all
For the pretence of it all
And then I realise that it is only on the face of it all
That anybody cares at all
For we at all
For me at all
For me.
At all.
So I cry for the loss of it all
For the love of it all
For the life of it all
For the love
For the life
Of it all.
I saw you twice the other day
Stirring passion anew
It's easy saying just move on
Less easier to do
Ive always said to others
There's plenty more fish in the sea
But some days it makes no difference
How many fish there be
On the face of it, a small fish
But you took over my whole sea
Never before had I gone fishing
It was all so new to me
You were someone that I longed for
I'd never felt like that before
Some months on, now I'm seeing
The sea has fish once more
But some days you're the only fish
Swimming in my sea
And the fervor that you stirred in me
Will forever be
It’s not all too obvious to the naked eye;
You have to pause and think and ask yourself “why?”
It’s not superficial, although, often beauty is there,
You have to look deeper to find beauty beyond compare.
Deep inside the heart of Earth’s crust,
Hidden amid the many layers of dirt and dust
Is a wealth of beauty for us to behold:
Sapphires and diamonds and nuggets of gold.
On the face of it the portrait may seem bland,
Nothing really special, nothing all that grand
And yet, with a little restoration and loving care
We can find the true worth that was always there.
If the same principle in life is applied
Then of people’s true beauty we won’t be denied;
We’ll recognise how beautiful they really are
And feel all the richer for it and be happier by far.
in our measure of time
there are curious circles filling our days,
numbered moments marked by the scars of transiting lights,
heavens moguls of tribulation 'n plight,
that give or take away --
the indifference of time that measures man,
in cycles round 'bout heavens span,
meted out in lines that grid the world
in constant sorrow, Saturn stuttered,
disappearing today in some further loss of tomorrow,
yet we also know that ticking clocks in circles go,
'til time enough for love is lost to reasons chains and at what cost;
the God of Time in cycles go, around, about, a-circling slow, fast re-turned,
they come, they go, there's time enough for love you know.
though I spend my time,
scanning the horizon with my mind's eye,
seeking the curve of her Venus belt,
a circumference of sunset reds spanning the sky, she is on the face of it,
a timeless piece, a swinging pendulum of rhythms sway,
a clock that circumscribes my day,
and in the sanctity of the night, rolling
on a sweat-slippery field of red-ocher bliss and
kissing with the same kiss, it's just then
as I watch her rest,
time stops
and takes my breath away
in our measure of time
there are curious circles filling our days,
numbered moments marked by the scars of transiting lights,
heavens moguls of tribulation 'n plight,
that give or take away --
the indifference of time that measures man,
in cycles round 'bout heavens span,
meted out in lines that grid the world
in constant sorrow, Saturn stuttered,
disappearing today in some further loss of tomorrow,
yet we also know that ticking clocks in circles go,
'til time enough for love is lost to reasons chains and at what cost;
the Gods of Time in cycles go, a-round, a-bout, a-turning slow,
fast re-turned, they come, they go,
there's time enough, for love you know.
though I spend my time,
circling the horizon with my mind's eye,
seeking the curve of her Venus belt,
a circumference of sunset reds,
surrounding the sky, she is on the face of it,
a timeless piece, a swinging pendulum of rhythms sway,
a clock that circumscribes my day,
and in every second of my nights,
a tick to my tock that ne'er quits
nor ever is passe'
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