Indifference Blues.

If I could have my way within the prison of my mind
I would appoint you as guard to keep my sentiments in line.
You could seal my untamed adoration for you in a white chamber;
a clean, secure place where my doubts couldn’t get to her.

With my anger draped in chains, you could lead him to the chair
and with that action you’d ensure for us a worry-free future
because no matter how I try he seems impossible to supress.
So as my contentment yanks the lever could we quickly share a kiss?

I can hear the mournful wails of the convicts on the wing
as they rattle on the cages while my anger’s giving in.
His cleansing screams are echoed by my pride and vanity,
but in the true picture, the lever’s manned by my complacency

because not every breath is meant to be a sigh.
We should yell and howl and cry and sing and be silent when we die.
There's so much time spent waiting and wasted words said to the sky
that it’d be criminal to stay silent
when my words might act as treatment
and help dispel all those demons
that are a bane upon our lives,

so if you could leave the cell doors open, I think that’d be preferred.
You could help to quell the riots with some smiles and soft words
and my anger can run wild at the injustices that occur
‘cause in some ironic way I think that makes me happier.

Weeds.

Listen up good, kid, ‘cause it’s vital to see -
you may be a coin fresh from the mint to me
but in this garden you’re just another scattered seed;
of no exceptional value nor above decree.

And your mother and your father are no towering trees
despite what your admissible awe leads you to believe.
Like most of us they’ve accepted that they’re more like weeds,

so it’s about time you embraced humility
and recognised you’re just a puzzle piece;
a servant to sunlight and gravity;
a grain of sand at the will of the sea.


First post in a long time. Writers block is an anus.