More Poetry

[Home]

If you feel that you have gained something of value, you can make a donation. If you wish to use this text commercially, email me at m a r k o a t p c b l u e s . c o m

10 December 2002

The Big Australian Drought,
Or, Why Santa Brought No Reindeer

Dancer hit the clubs last night
And stayed out very late
He failed this morning's drug test
I was left with only eight

Cupid fell in love last night
He met a hairy end
They fell in love and anteloped
My deer numbered seven

Blitzen was a unionist
Who fought the one night year
He wouldn't work once it got dark
So he's out on his ear

Donner tripped as we flew past
A place that made meat pies
He's probably kebabbed by now
And I was left with five

The rockstar of the reindeer group
Would surely have been Prancer
The hard life finally caught him up
He died of antler cancer

Dasher had some dodgy food
And left in one big hurry
My fourth last deer got number twos
Note to self: Don't feed them curry

Vixen was the vain one
As we flew over Fed Square
He stopped and stared at his mirrored self
He's probably still there

Rudolph's love of alcohol
Brought his trip undone
He blew point 2 and went to jail
I only then had one

Comet was valiant on his own
But couldn't leave first gear.
I walked the rest of the way myself
That's why I've brought no reindeer

19 August 2002

I wrote these years ago, but there is no date on them...

Poem

If I could stop slow suicide
For long enough to be at peace
With the second law of thermo's slide
I'd come to terms with life's disease

I'd plan the projects I desire
To raise everyone's living standard higher
I'd bypass the powerful overlords
And free the masses from their cords

Cheap transport's how we all can win
Not software, we're not all plugged in
So where to now? Where do I begin?
A scrounge through dusty patent bins.

Mr Train Cleaner

Why does the bubble gum stick
To the carpet that used to be clean?
I'm sure your pride has been pushed aside
Due to time or cost or greed.

I'm sure it's not your fault that the trains
All stink, are wet and dirty
You can't blame the travellers of the line
For getting bloody shirty.

It must have been a huge job.
Cleaning made the trains lose money.
Now that their privatised I'm sure
The situation will become even less funny.

The Broodin' Days

Did I bypass adulthood
Shared by a million souls?
The fears stayed, but not the need
To act grown up and old.

I fancy I matured early
Mid-life crisis done
But what if I haven't started yet
To lose my sense of fun?

I fancy women find me childish
Write me off too soon.
I've got more depth than they'd ever need
I just like to be a goon.

If I don't act responsibly
What might happen to me?
The most that I can see ahead
Is I'll act grown-up when I'm dead.

Smoking

Bubbling at the bottom of lungs worn past
Their supposed age by smoking gasps
Wheezing, breathing in then out
The final breath draws close, no doubt.

Tendrils claw through body rampant
Cancer renders organs rancid
Wasted only if their host
Had purpose - life had will to boast.

Power of One

Knowing limits to one's ability
Is accepting the truth, being able to see
That reaching great goals cannot be done
Insisting on using the power of one.

Knowing others and helping them out
Keeping your aims in their mind intact
Will give you a better change to achieve
Any dream that your mind can possibly conceive.

Beautiful Stranger in a Laundromat

An icon of raw beauty on a table for two
Swinging her legs in a nice fashion too.
Patience in reading the age old chick mags,
Awaiting the load in the screeching Maytags.

I hold my breath in the presence of her.
Choked with a nervousness, unfounded fear.
One day I'll be easy around such a sweet head,
But for now I'll just have to write poetry instead.

Overshooting the Mark

The lure of the fixed-price job.
Money owing, wanted soon
You prostitute yourself for about two bob
You raving crazy loon!

The work's not sex, far cleaner than that.
It's programming, but the work's the same.
You burn your time to provide some pleasure
To the person who thinks you're just as lame.

Work per hour if you can, and don't
Be trapped by money lust.
Don't salary or fixed-price or you'll find
Your financial arse is bust.

They'll use you and screw you and take your time.
They breach and break your trust.
Because you agreed to let them squeeze
Your life until you bust.

Raw Comedy

To my friends, if you are here tonight
I hope you don't get too big a fright
I know I said this was an AA meet
That after six months I would stand on my feet
And say I was sober, well, what the fuck
I didn't fall off the wagon, I fell off a truck.

For Valentine's Day I hedged my bets
Knew I wasn't getting flowers, even from my pets
So I got all pissed till I couldn't remember
And I rang Interflora while I held my member
And ordered a bunch of roses yea wide
Told them if I wasn't home just to leave them outside.

Sure enough, when V-Day arrived
I sat there not expecting a single surprise.
Had a fuck of a hangover my head was ringing
Then suddenly the door rang, someone started singing...

"Hello, Mr Oshborne your flowers are here
Somebody thinks that you're rather dear
They've sent you six roses by naked courier
Now come out and pluck them, they're hurting my rear"

Obscure

I reckon my boss travels backwards in time
He doesn't remember a thing I say
And he's always sure he's processed my pay
And he thinks he's told me a hundred times
To do something, whatever, he stamped and swore
But I reckon he'd never told me before.

But his tomorrow is my yesterday
I tell you what, if I kick his arse
So hard he goes the other way,
He would not even remember
That the day before I pulled out my member
And told him to suck it because I knew
That was a day he wasn't going through.

Right Shop Wrong Brand Blues

Standing so far from you
Yet sitting at the same table
I'm sure I should have learnt my lesson
From an old Greek's fable

Keeping your distance, would you have
If I was someone else?
Are you scared of love itself
Or just the brand stocked on my shelf?

I got the right shop wrong brand blues.
My packagings all wrong for you to choose.
My marketing's crap, the advertising rank
I got the right shop wrong brand blues.

Friendship Love

All I really want to know
Is if there's any chance
To carry on our friendship
Through the wall into romance.

If you've made it bleeding obvious
OK, so I'm a dunce
Taking naivety into account
I'll ask again (just once)

It's easy to say no
When nothing has to change at all.
No fears faced, no hurts embraced
No need to have the gall...

To find an honest answer
To a very scary question:
"If I break my outer shell
Will someone love the yoke within?"

If his nibs turns round and says, "You're it.
Let's make this more than sport."
Then all the best, I'm glad
You both have found a decent sort.

If there's zero chance for us
I'll end this romantic flotsam,
Get back on track with jokes and flak
And keep our friendship's clothes on.

Long Live the Queen!

Short grey hair and a shaven muff
A man among girls, she knew her stuff
Labia rings and a nose stud, too.
She blew me away and wrung me through.

Bright light shone on the hard dance floor.
Sweat beads glistened under mirrored ball.
Boom Boom shake the room bored my mind
Till my eyes cast down on her tight behind.

I fought for control of my wandering hands
I couldn't hold them back from her shapely stance.
A hand on her butt, a half Janet on her tit
She spun and sucked my mouth till I tasted shit.

She grabbed my rod and made like a vacuum
As far as I cared no-one else was in the room
She swallowed like a bird and I growled like a lion
Then she wiped her mouth and said goodbye like it was nothing.

I zipped myself up and chased her down
I spun her around and she tore her gown
Before the ball finished we funky medina'd
Oh, God Save The Queen! And thank you, Regina.

Early 2002

Eye Aversion

Like a metal detector beeps more urgent
The closer to gold it gets
The joining of eyes, the locking of souls
Causes the heart alarms to rent.

Squashed in the personal space of each other
A comfort can only be trained
And fear that grips and strangles the will
Can be stopped only by father or mother.

Writing or reading, typing or sleeping
Or staring between the gaps
Can be safe, yet lonely, defeating the people
Whose bonding would be their safe-keeping

Sitting on the Edge

Motion transports us
TV taunts us
Conscience dictates
Tortures then waits
Drowning sorrows kill
Lonely moments still
Plenty more to come
Before life comes undone

Site on a wire
Stay still in the fire
Don't lay down the law
Don't show them your fall
Lock your coccoon
And surely, soon
The door to nowhere
Will lead you there.

Action Reaction

Inaction sanctions your body's rape
By self the yearnings can't escape
Creatures of risk destined to fate
Soft padded lives lead minds irate
To destroy the shell, the living hell
Of anonymity, alone and at home
Lashing out on the one who cannot fight back
The office boy kicked his own cat.

20 August 1997

Final Flight
Against will and current deceleration
Workload seems more of an abomination
Of gratitude for effort, making yourself seen
As a whinging bastard, void of sweat sheen.

But, you are thankful for your experiences and skills
Thankful for the after hours thrills.
If you fall out of contact, don't think it means
That your friendships are over, if that's what it seems.

It's just that the breaks between chats will be longer
And, hell, it may just make their hearts grow fonder.
If they want to catch up, you can just drop a line
Find a medium to speak to the other side.

And what will you take with you as you depart?
Well, for one thing, the generous gift of your farts.
The memories and skills from a long drawn out fight
To be the best of the best under critical light.

19 August 1997

A long time has passed since you felt the need
To express your emotions in written decree.
You have dulled the senses and limped along
To be encouraged to accept all your past wrongs

Trustings life's process and stilling the mind
Opening your heart to be more kind
Disciplining the body and feeding the soul
Is an easily forgotten, unrealistic goal

Changing the world without changing yourself
Being loved and protected, looking after your health
Attaining worthwhile purposes without giving much
Gaining the world on the cheap, is it asking too much?

And doing it yourself so you don't have to fight
Against the egos of others on the same side
And taking the glory at the end of the day
To be forgotten eventually anyway.

March 1997

Writing toward a new age of cyber-checkout,
Establishing a foothold on both sides of the divide
Between cyber and physical reality.
And then bridging the two,
Like thin strands of threads flashing out between two distant cliffs,
Enmeshing, becoming one.

1988 - 1994

Poetry Across the Span

In 1988, I realised that I could write rhyming verse, and use poetry as an emotional outlet. From the April of that year until the latter half of 1990, I had regular writing spells each roughly one month apart. Pent up frustration or dark emotions usually triggered my inspiration. In the September of 1990, I joined a fanatical religious organisation. My inspiration promptly dried up for a while as I pre-occupied myself with adjusting to a new lifestyle. But emotional extremes of one sort or another brought me back to the pen and paper. The Span ends around the time I decided to leave the church in 1994. The religious positions taken in the poems represented my beliefs when I wrote them, and not necessarily my beliefs now.

Please excuse the first couple for their roughness, but I had to include them for completeness.

First Glimpses of Meaning

Poem #1

School is a pill,
I've had my fill.
I'm gonna crack,
If I go back.
Everyday is all the same
School is just a stupid game
Society plays to shape and form
Each and every new-born.

Poem #2

Spinning, spinning, spinning ever around,
Like a model train set, imprisoned
In an endless circle until the energy which
Gives it life is turned off by the hand of a giant
Enthusiast (at his whim) whom the tiny toy train never
Comprehends.

The circle of track has a tunnel
Night/Day
Night/Day

A Simple Meaning

Smile with wonderment at what exists around you,
For whether or not you know it, it is true,
That beyond our limited range of sight,
      beyond the shadows of both day and night,
      beyond all the beauties I could describe,
      And beyond the grasps of deceit and bribe,
A truth stands firm, unseen, yet not,
corrupted or diminished by Man's mental rot,
Which left him stuck in the world of today
feeling oppressed by his sense's decay.

If only you could feel the way
The ecstasy I'm feeling swells this day
far further than I can see, hear, touch, or smell.
      Beyond the grasps of heaven and hell.
Inside, I have spread to infinity…
I'm drawing strength and vitality
which is available to all who seek,

I plead you to accept this reality.
For then you can join me at this place,
Where pride, hate, shame, and fear fall from grace
to obscurity and a small dark place,
      Far from where I stand.

If you have ever read Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman, you might be interested in how closely one of his visions came to what I wrote about 8 years ago.

Lonely Selfishness

Ugly creature full of turmoil
Rears it's head, it's face pure spite
Cradling itself in a world of trouble,
It thinks the world is there to fight.
It pities itself, thoughts distorted,
Reflecting on it's efforts - thwarted-
To make peace with society.
But no-one listens to it's plea,
So now it puts the world at fault:
"They'll never tame this wild colt!"
But the animal refuses to see
The problem is it in reality.

Reflections

Peering into the face of a pond,
The ripples quiver, the reflection
Of myself: not whole, but reflected in parts,
My complete face split into sparking shards.

Peering out towards a mirror,
Pond reflections face my peers.
To shirk action's responsibility,
In shards of light, I am he, or she.

I learn to look from under the surface-
Through my mind's eye at the reflected face
I say, "That's not me. Can't you see,
That he is to blame, the one I copied."

Knock, Knock. Is anyone there,
Behind the water's surface glare?
A truth I seek, the answers reek
Of dust and disuse, from honesty's abuse.

Hip Hop Dream

Shake, shiver, jive, roll...
Cool hip, man!
Taking toll
On boys and girls whose sole intent
Is drowning themselves in music sent
Through mounted speakers on the walls
Surrounding multi-coloured, spotlit floors.

He swears that he'll be dancing when he dies,
She swears that she'll go by his side.

To dance, to sleep. No more.

A Case for God

Mr Magoo leans on his cane,
Reciting madly, again and again,
"I don't exist and yet I do,
Because I'm real to believers in Mr Magoo!"

The Arrogant Many

In many facets of school life,
Arrogance is running rife.

Although not everyone's to blame,
People exist who play the game-

Where they're A-1, and they alone,
Sit on their self-devoted throne.

Students, teachers, authorities:
Legends in their own fantasies.

Imposing themselves on other beings.
Forcing the 'lesser' ones to believe-

'Numero Uno' is here to stay
And no-one else is as good as they,

Or beautiful, or strong, or smart, or cool.
I'd like to stand up, call them tools,

But all I hate in them I see,
Is something I can find in me!

Poem

Whispering breeze, you tell sweet lies
You promise so much
But you hide from us your icy blast
Two-faced wind you comfort then kill
Where is your heart and soul?

You suit your action to your whim
You live your life of hyprocrisy
In ignorance of your cardinal sin
Mighty, evil or benevolent you may be
In the end, you are only wind to me.

Spiritual Expansion

Play the game of spiritual expansion
There's many different ways
There're many different levels on which
You choose to live your day

Your options are as follows:

Worship your guru and follow his wisdon
Live to his word and be part of his dominion

    If you live by the sword, you will die by the sword,
    If you live by the dollar, you will die by the dollar

Worship yourself and you close your eyes
to the poor of soul and material's cries

    If you live by the self, you die by yourself
    If you take out an eye, you will lose an eye

Worship God and live to his word
So that his wisdom can be seen and heard

    If you live by God, you die beside God
    But you'll live forever for your life's endeavour.

Live and love, grow and show
Expand yourself spiritually
And you'll be shown
The bliss of living a life of good
The life God thought we really should

Live by anyone but he
And you'll not grow up spiritually
With the Holy Spirit in your soul
But rather, there'll expand a hole
Of blackness filled with flashes of hate
You'll be knocking at hell's gate
The gate beyond which hate is pure
Suffering is painful to endure
Truth is hidden and love destroyed
The Devil's toys will play with you

Poem

Still I search with blind and misguided eyes
Still I walk the path I so much despise
When I stand among the unknown
The fears rise which I am told
Are unnecessary, for I cannot be hurt
Beyond death.

Beyond death...
    I feel?
    I search still?
    I meet my maker!

But I am still here...
    And I still live in fear.

And hypocrisy.

May I crawl out of my shell of these human failings
And into the arms of the comforting mother
And into the words of the comforting father
And into the light

My companion to be, the search is my destiny?

Do I get to share it with a friend,
The special one who chooses to share with me?

God dictate my destiny.
I place myself in the hands of thee.

So why do I wil look for the mask which pleases
To qualify one for eligibility?

Poem

I'm back and I'm slime.
Madness incinerates my purity
Welcome to the crematorium of Mark
Burn! Burn! Burn! Trying to sound demented
It's fun to have abandon, short term emotional overdrive
Emotions lie, time is lost, the wheel spins around
You're already under the ground

Melbourne Gathering

The first night, the test
Something new, something quite unexpected.
The trial by loneliness, exiled to my tent
I was alone, and yet accompanied - carried - by hope, and faith
That's what it is like
On an island.
The emotions overwhelm, leaving you pitiful,
In desparate need of female comfort
( to take advantage of? )
    The dreams are dying
    The dreams of promise which hang on to every word and smile
    Which burn as memories burn, and die as memories die
    And time flails on.

The Fullness of Life

Song

How lucky we are. How blessed we are
That our God hates sin and evil.
That He'll use his power to help us see
Our deeds are wrong and evil.

Praise God! He won't tolerate or compromise.
He hates all wrong, but he loves the right.
He doesn't change to suit His mood.
In Him we can trust and not take fright.

"Be not afraid," He commands in a thundering voice.
"How can we not be?" resounds the plaintive reply.
"Be still and know that I am God,
The one who delights in all that is right."

Jesus preaches, "I stand at the door,
And wait for you to let me into your core,
Because I hate it when people serve with their mouths.
They have whitewashed walls, but a desolate house."

Father, Son, Holy Spirit, help me see
Your righteous nature for I am suspicious.
Open my eyes to your love for my life
And the room you are placing my heavenly riches

Poem

Running through the windswept reeds
They try to break my flow
My passage through time
My passage through mind
To a place of eternal peace

My God inspires such delights
Such as I cannot imagine
For the reeds which stem my flow
Also blind and cripple me
Until I think I'm left alone

My instincts, Oh human nature
Thou hast oft left me in distress
I placed my faith in thee
and yet ye chase your wan desires
But all the time I only asked
My goodness to transpire

I wish to tune myself to the voice
Which comforts in time of sorrow
I only ask to hold the hand
Which promises life tomorrow
I strive toward the path of truth
The perception of right and wrong
From the viewpoint of my God's eyes
So that I may not be misled by Satan's spies

I pray that I may be lifted up high
By the beauty that I may sometime fully realise
The reeds are high
they block the view
But with Jesus with me I jump for joy
And see above the strangling grass
For maybe just a second
At the beautiful garden which lies beyond
The one we know as Eden... Paradise.

Psalm 1

Lord, write your words across my heart,
So that under Satan's attack it may impart,
Your message of hope to my doubtful mind
To restore trust: my salvation's lifeline.

When my family and friends try to convince me
Not to take your words so seriously,
Satan's arrows fire at my soul,
To weaken my reason and resolve.

But, Lord, I return to your words of promise,
That implore me not to compromise
On your message or turning from sin in repentence,
To live by your word in loving obedience.

Your wisdom and love form my fortress!
May I take refuge there in times of duress.
I prau that by you my spirit be taken,
Before Satan's salvoes leave me shaken.

Psalm 2

Lord, make your words guide my every footfall.
Write them on my heart to be seen by all,
So that those who seek may be shown the way
To receive life; and in your light remain.

I love your work in the lives of the earnest,
The seekers of truth and light.
Though we all fall far short of your glory,
Your son's death has set us right.

Bring the righteous to glorious salvation,
Regardless of religion or nation.
Continue your work until all who are open,
Can be fished from the world's sinful oceans.

Psalm 3

If ever I am proud, cut me down, my Lord,
That my heart may not harden against your Word.
Protect my soul from the sin that is rife,
Before it's cancerous growth spells the end to my life.

Upon my heart, Lord, shine your light
So my sins may be seen and then set right.
Listen to my pleas to change my heart;
Bestow grace, and force Satan to depart.

Lord, I am crushed in the face of the sin
Revealed from the depths of my heart within,
Change me and lift me, I humbly pray,
So I may praise you again with joyous acclaim.

1993

Dawn has broken on a New Year
And some lessons have been learned.
I still succumb to the control of fear
But change is coming, for which I've yearned.

The biggest thing myself I hated
Was laziness, apathy, and inaction.
The battle against these has not abated
But I now have the chance to build conviction.

My aim by the end of 1993
Is to be filled with God's peace;
To give God the reins so He can lead
And I'll enjoy the victories!

Casting Adrift

Anger

Redness cascading like blood down the walls of my sanctuary.
My centre; the bedroom of my mind; my have of security
Was invaded, peace shattered, the beast has moved in.
The beast is anger radiating and intensifying my sin.

Anxieties

People will let me down but God won't.

He cares for me more than dandelions,
But they are clothed beautifulle.
He made nature entwined
So why do I still worry?

Joy? Where is it?
Hidden behind a dark curtain
On which life is projected.

I want to want the best for others
Security that I have what I need
Content with what God's given me
Just happy to be free.

The Search for Acceptance

The mind plays games just under the surface
With the people l talk to. It has it's purpose
To extract some love and confirmed acceptance
Against myself works this ungodly offence.

But it's mine, I mustn't deny the truth
Or hide that I'm selfish and my acts are proof.
I don't like others seeing me out of control,
But honesty is a balm that soothes the soul.

I draw out too many long-winded reasons
For remaining fruitless over four seasons.
I want to find justification, to feel OK,
But I've learnt that I just want to do it my way -

And take credit for life, money, a girlfriend and power
Without being humble to God and letting faith's flower
Bloom into peace and acceptance of grace
And delight in being able to show God my face.

"Delight yourself in the Lord," He says,
" And He will give you the desires
of your heart." So accept the Lord's precepts,
Because that's how He'll lift your life higher.

God has accepted me as an elected one.
What more do I want if I'm a treasured possession?

Song

Doesn't it hurt when you try to do your best
Keep on falling down, have to get up again.

Isn't it easier not to try at all?
Because when tryin' and you mess up, you feel the pain more.

I know when I die I grow.
Fear of life makes it come so slow.
Sometimes I feel like I just can't go on.

Lonely

I asked God to let me see
The reasons I felt - emotionally,
In my chest - a hole, a longing...
But I'm Christian! Where's my sense of belonging?
I yearn, I can't deny it.
I'm supposed to feel joy.

The world teaches that to be happy,
I need a woman, sex, toys and money.
Maybe a drink would soothe the feeling -
But only for a bit. It would return again.

Could I be ready to write poetry again?
Last time it gave me joy.
All these distractions are temporary.
God! Why aren't you close to me?

Or is something ready to come out?
Thing are never as bad as I dream.

I can and do bury myself in a pursuit.
But now that I've stopped, and I'm at rest,
The yearning remains.

Father, show me what I yearn for.
I will not be afraid.

I feel like I have no anchor.
I like feeling this way.
Am I just being compulsive?

Poetic Balm

The soul must be searched
Decisions are mine
Am I looking back
On my emotional bind?

On self-solution of my soul's troubles
For my own self-worth
Am I rejecting my spiritual rebirth?
Why did I throw out
The poems from the past?
I no longer needed them
But my heart didn't want to let go of them
And I want them back
I threw them out, out of emotion.

So long as I live life under God's wisdom
I will grow ( thanks to God) as part of His kingdom.
This truth will not change: that he knows what I need.
So be humble, my heart, and water the seed
That God planted in you and watered with love.
And remember the seed is sprinkled with blood.
May it flower through faith understanding God's grace
And that God gives me reason to run out this race.

I Just Wanna Feel, OK?

It's simple, I'm frustrated, and
    I just wanna feel, OK.
I'm solutions oriented, so how do I change
    'Cos I just wanna feel OK.
Maybe if I do some good acts among others,
I'll be able to sleep at ease among brothers,
Having done my lot to erase the guilt
My foundation of safety once again firmly built
    Only to fall again?

But wait! I
	think
		I've
			missed
				some-
					thing....

If the Word is so simple why do I forget?
The words that I read are so hard to accept.
Why should a promise of life, a free gift to us all
Make my heart comtemptuous, if anything at all?

For I wanted to be able to help myself
And take pride in what I do and say.
I wanted the credit for my life and my fruit.
I just wanted to feel OK.

Oh, heart! Be silent! Be humble! Look on!
Accept and appreciate God's gift of his son.
Surrender your life to the master above.
You'll be OK, by living under his love.

Death of a Conscience

Day by day, I see a little less
Of the rocky road that will lead me to happiness
Day by day, my feelings get more suppressed
I tune the radio to the station that's the loudest

But I'm not depressed

Like a fading dream, is the hope I hold
To break down and cry, could I be so bold?
To open up my eyes, to see what I'm told
To get into life, before I'm too old, too old

I've grown cold

Inhumanity no longer seems so bad to me
I feel nothing in the face of a world's screams
I feel nothing in the face of my broken dreams
Nothing in the future really matters, or so it seems

There are no dreams

There will come a day when I stop running away,
From the things that scare me frozen today
My feet are fixed, but I think I like it that way
Help me please, don't let my life decay

I want to play
In the land of the living
I don't want to fade
Fade away

Vision Impaired

Song

From the first you have to obey
Do the lot from your very first day.
"But I don't love," Don't worry, just obey.
For the right heart, you'll just have to pray.

I can't go on
To the beat of a heartless drum
Swallowing whatever comes
Commands sugar-coated
With the promise I'll be loaded
And rewarded after I've passed on
If I just keep preaching along
But I have read, if I don't love
I won't be getting a thing from above.

Back Where I Began
I didn't know
As I wandered down the road
That the scenery ahead
I had passed by long ago.

I didn't realise
I was looking with blind eyes
I'd been shot without feeling
Any pain, now I despise, I despise.

Chorus:
But I feel like I'm back
Where I began
I just don't want to see
Or understand

If I had the wings
Of an eagle I would fly
Fly above the fears
Sail through the storms and tears

My journey could have been
Full of the smell of victory
Marching through life,
Holding up job, child and wife.

Poem

Sin still gives me a sense of wisdom
Warning for the future
A light along a long worn path,
Open a spiritual suture.

What do I think? It depends who asks -
if I'm angry or I'm friendly -
if I can manipulate someone over
to my side by my sensing -

Of what they think - the things they feel
though I don't feel the same.
Actually, I'm scared to know what I think.
Thus continues this masquerade...

Friends? I have none because I don't
want to put them first
So how on earth can I uphold
the relationship for which I thirst?

Poem

Sitting in an ocean of opposing views
Fearful of disagreeing with what they say and do.
A tide washes back and forth moving as one
But I always bobbed across the top,
Fearful of diving down.

So now I bob, a cork afloat,
No anchor down below.
Who knows what lies ahead - above -
No cork can see, you know.

Shake away the cobwebs of a life I had,
With just one friend on whom I always depended.
The one who never scared me was a full bottle up-ended.

Confusion

Like getting directions from an Arab in a busy market-place
Is getting signals from my heart and meeting face to face
With true opinions/plans/desires- timid friends
To the point where fear takes over and the friendship ends.

The Lecture Collection

These poems were written after I left the church. Usually at uni during lectures, or when I should have been finishing assignments.

Software Engineering 2050

There exists a subject we know
As Software Eng. 2050.
It's run by a teacher,
(read pro-COBOL preacher)
Who's been round nigh since data has flowed.

(A twinkle in her mother's eyes,
When ENIAC ruled computing skies)

Mimicry

Oh where, oh where has my interest gone?
Oh where, oh where could it be?
I began my course with such get-up-and-go
Now I'm bored and I just want to sleep

To sleep or not to sleep.
That is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the
slings and arrows of outrageous boredom.
Or to listen to the thousand lecturing shlocks
that undergrads are heir to.
To talk, to sleep.

There was movement at the lecture,
For the word had passed around,
That fellow at the back just let one go....

Floating Point Overflow

I had written him a letter
For I had a want of better
Things to write during a lecture
When there's half an hour to go.

My heart for knowledge yearning
Spurred my interest to learning
I lifted my head enough to get,
"...floating point overflow..."

My concentration fading
Once again I took up wading
Thro' unmapped pleasant pastures
Memories of long ago...

The times of innocence
Marked with nights of smoking incense
I spied the clock upon the wall
Still half an hour to go!

Assignment Blues

I've got the concurrent assignment blues
Three little projects to do
I've got the concurrent assignment blues
Got to start exam revision too
I'd better do them if I want to leave
This place 'n' try my hand at something new...

The computer subjects contain
Pictures, programming, and counting too.
The fun comes in hitting keys all day
To make the computer do
The tasks set out in monotones
By lecturers with nothing else to do

Poem

The fear that accompanies tasks undone
Can lead to great inspiration
As the mind works frantically to invent
New paths that I can flee upon

Procrastination, creativity's best friend
Yet man's worst enemy once he knows
The way he wants to live his life
Because it traps him in it's throes.

In my case it leads me to write
I wonder if I can make a life
Avoiding the things I'm supposed to do
If I could make a buck or two
From the poetry, verse, meter, and rhyme
I could make a profit from wasting time!

Poem

If a person chose their own life's path
Without parental pressure
Would they nought but waste away
Or would they come out better?

Would they find their happiness
Doing only what they wanted,
Or would they learn once their life was burned
Theirs folks advice was warranted?