Mother and three siblings to keep,
bread winner, man of the house,
at pit head, down into the deep,
to extract coal like a sucking louse,
twelve hour shifts, morning to night,
water to drink, jam and bread,
working in poor artificial light,
coal miners life until he's dead,
thousand feet down, four miles along,
on man rider to coal face,
sound of mind, with arms so strong,
essential to keep up the pace,
with pick and shovel in hand,
now at the sharp end, damp hot,
more coal employers demand,
this hard life is a miners lot,
miners blood flows through his vein,
coal the centre of his soul,
buried Ancestors down pits remain,
reaching retirement his goal,
from a sunless place,he emerges,
moleskin trousers, dirty shirt,
gassed canaries, in cages,
aged fifteen, an inherited convert,
his hands are rough and beat,
grime ingrained into palms,
his fathers boots on his feet,
miners lamp, full of charm,
head to toe covered in slack,
survived another day young lad,
colleague to scrub his aching back,
thoughts of dead, especially his dad.
I’d like to tell you of this game
Don’t try this, you won’t be the same
And if you get hurt, I’m not to blame
We played it in Zimbabwe, 29 kids and me
For those who cannot add 29 + 1 equals 30
The game we played was called “Kenakee”
This consisted of one 2x4 for a bat
You’ll be surprised what we hit with that
A stick four inches long, one inch thick
Sharpened like a pencil on both sides to do this trick
We’d lay the sharp stick on the ground
With the 2x4 hit one sharp end striking down
And if you do it right it should flick in the air
Then quickly with the 2x4 hit it but beware
For if you miss you out
But that not what the game’s all about
You have fifteen kids waiting to catch the stick
I think some of them were as thick as the stick
If they caught it then the whole team was out
If it drops on the floor, you carried on with out a doubt
The reason we played this I still don’t know why
How we never ended up loosing an eye
So don’t play this game or you will see
The bloody thing stuck in my forehead and you’ll look like me
The maze of life
Rocked by the waves of emotions and reality,
I follow the rhythm far from conformity.
The cry of my soul overwhelmed by sorrow,
Praying for the hope of a better tomorrow.
The journey of life and its sharp end corners,
So often ignored are the foresight warners.
Who, with the wisdom gracefully acquired,
Guide the ones that the One inspired.
Some paths are wide…. some are narrow,
In some… are set up traps in a row.
Resembling a maze fit with diversity,
Crossing paths with beings indulged in adversity.
The meaning of love is a foreign dream,
The test of kindness has drowned in a stream.
As for the humble notion of genuine care?
Its essence foolishly outstripped … bare.
I need you to believe me
My feet are giving out right from underneath me
And my tear fall
Are the unspoken words
For the things I only wish that I herd
Broken poetry written with the sharp end of a knife
And I’m dragging myself on my elbows across these shards of my broken up heart
The pieces few and far between
I’m too scarred up to be anyone’s beauty queen
So as pieces of me will quickly fall
He stands close by
Listening to it all
Collecting up my shatterd heart
Has become his hobby
Catch me
Quick I’m falling
I think I have fallen
The scars on my wrist
And my arms razor kissed
Nothing like the gaping wounds in my heart
A cut down my arm
As the blood dances down
I wont whimper, I wont make a sound
I close my eyes
Hearing your voice on the other end
I could only wish
To share just one kiss
To get wrapped up in the moment
Our hearts caught up in this
My words caught in my throat
But my hands are tied behind my back
Ill smile as and pretend
As my heart begins to crack
Like the ice I tread
hold me just a little bit longer
In the moment,
I can feel myself getting stronger
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