Lighting

The soft Halifax lights
gently painted the pier
as I shared all my sorrows
and you fought with your fears
given no heed
to the rats running near
or the condoms that swan in the drink

The salt in the night
mixed with the mist
we were both in our twenties
and pleasantly pissed
so long ago,
and so sadly missed
the days before we were fallen

The ferry's low grumble
haunted buoy bell
like a call to meditation
danced with the water's calm swell
the drama from then,
nothing like this hell
unlike now, those days were not wasted

Now in mid life
I think to this thought
and the shite that kills passion
with all that it's wrought
like a fish in a net
panicked and caught
the gull o'er head a-swarming

Though there's still beauty
in all that I see
I'm troubled by
this black agony
a sinking old feeling
that we'll never be free
the lights bleached white by the morning

Scars of Passion


Do we live dispassionate lives
for security's sake
or curse caution to wind,
take the bed that we make?
do we question the road
we decided to take
living lives of numb apathy?
or is this life
a measured ol' test
that's to be lead by the head,
not the heart in our breast?
to make time for living,
do we make time for rest?
a spurious sense of security

Winds of change
Can't you hear them calling?
Swept our breath
Since we first started bawling
There at your back
Resist, they're lashes,
And one day
They'll scatter your ashes

I wake up each morning
and question the day
I suppose I should seize it,
but my mind works this way
and not of what all others say
gives me a sense of genial peace
the dreams from my heart
have infected my head
and by Christ I will chase them
til my last page's been read
I believe there's different ways
that our passions are fed
That quarry, boys, can never cease

Winds of change
Can't you hear them calling?
Swept our breath
Since we first started bawling
There at your back
Resist, they're lashes,
And one day
They'll scatter your ashes
And so I go
Forward falling
the winds of change
I hear them calling
My heart is swept
Never by fashion
Bleeding alone,
The Scars of Passion

Come What May


When I look into your face
all my fears become displaced
though I've lost the gift of dream
days are less dark then they did seem
for when I'm in your company
I don't feel the anxiety
that my life's been pissed away
that there's still light left in the day

like smoke that rises through the mist
from lips that I may never kiss
my passions swirl in lithely dance
wondering if it's all by chance?
or are our lives all preordained?
to torture, pleasure, love and maim
this road were on and know too well
trespassing heaven and dragged through hell

be in the moment is what we said
not knowing where we're to be lead
to rise up high or crash and fall
frustration banging head to wall
I trust the world will find its way
and so may we one fateful day
until that time, come what may
O come what may

Self-doubt and Anxiety


When I express self-doubt and anxiety
perhaps you think I'm being coy
that I do it for sympathy
or it's the attention I enjoy
but if you only knew the thoughts
that race inside my head
you'd be gobsmacked in wonderment
of how the Christ that I'm not dead
I feel caught and confined,
a captive, in convention's cage
Bottling up my passions
and building up my rage
a masochist, an idealist
a defeatist dreamer as well
whose witnessed the moment's majesty
that traps me tumultuously in this hell
I know that I think too much,
analyse my state of being,
feeling that there's always something else
that we should all be seeing
this introspection's caused infection
withering any healthy, contented hope
pushed me to the brink before,
but I stepped back from the rope
though defeatist, I still dream
and want to see the day
when the world seems to make sense
and I'm not left to feel this way
but I'd rather feel this pain and go insane
from clinging to the belief
that the chance might still exist
to give me some relief
I wish your words would change me
or that the books that I've explored
whose seeds have well been planted
but can't surface through the manure,
would bloom through the gloom that I've assumed,
that battles my optimism down
that I would see my self as more
then being just another bloody clown
I know I've seen the beauty
in all life's sincerity
but little can we taste it
for social intangibilities
so when I express self-doubt and anxiety
I'm not trying to be coy
I'm not seeking your sympathy
for none of this I do enjoy
for now you know the torturing thoughts
that race inside my head
I'm gobsmacked in total wonderment
of how the fuck that I'm not dead.

Wish

I wish there was a way
that I could climb outside my head
and I wish that I would not read
into every word that's said
O I wish I wasn't a wisher
and I wish I knew a way
to pull it all together
to know it'll be okay

I've read the books on Buddha,
The Gita and the Tao
it all makes perfect sense to me
but still I wonder how
to tame my thoughts,
to accept my lot
and not wish it away
the 'what could be's' and reality's
leave my mind in disarray

When imagination wanders
and insecurity sets its trap
you wonder if what's sent your way
just fell into your lap?
Or is there some fated destiny
whose course has long been set?
you question each decision you've made
wonder if them you will regret

Perhaps the day will come my way
when I send caution to the wind
to hell with what they all will say,
their purgatory and sin
and if I end up like Lazarus
with scorched and broken wings
I'll hold on tight to that moment of flight
and I won't regret a thing

I wish there was another way
to live the dreams inside my head
and I wish words that I heard
meant the things they said
O I wish I wasn't a wisher
and I wish I knew a way
to pull it all together
to know it'll be okay

All Passions Subdued


I'd like to believe
there was some sort of fate
heaven for who spreads peace,
hell for those who spread hate
so many bills, now well long over due
to live in a way
with all passions subdued
So focused on living
we've lost how to live
so used to taking
we don't know how to give
time denies freedom
time makes us all old
time makes us all fearful
crushed, so dreams never unfold

I'd like to believe it
but know it's not true
we live in the same world
but I can't be with you
we've established these customs
our old ball and chain
as we dampen the heart
with the juice of the brain
live in self denial
forcing needs to become wants
like Adam and Eve
and the snake with his taunts
we make sense of it all
with senseless old rules
since we only live once
we're left cheated like fools

I'd like to believe
there was some sort of fate
that allowed one to savour
the joys life creates
the beauty of passion
the beauty of who
can still give themselves
free rein to be true
but the denial masks honesty
till we don't know our self
pack it away
on our mind's darkened back shelf
time ticks and torches
yet another day
feted with frustrations,
feeling this way

Byron said "society's
one big flagrant horde,
comprised of two tribes:
the bores and the bored"
we've grown so complacent
scrutiny all that we do
so many philosophies on life
but it seems nothing's new
for we think and we chat
and we talk a good game
but in the end
it's all bloody the same
we've lost our simplicity
and organic way
it tears me apart,
for I too think this way

I'd like to believe
there was some sort of fate
that would figure things out
before life closes the gate
I'd like to believe
that all passion's not lost;
a time where natural beauty
carries not such an exuberant cost.

Foc'sle


Furrows etched deep in my brow
wondering where life takes me now
as I drift from shore to shore
I find strange that which once before
was considered dear and all I had
a fine wine that one day went bad
craving still that sweet satiety taste
of passions that I once embraced
for now it seems my race is run
and ragged, I feel like I'm done
at each turn we play a card
but a gambler's life's so goddamn hard
Ah what, without chance, would life be?
a hopeless road of misery
for hope's the flame we must keep strong
when it's all to shite and all gone wrong
a sense that time cullys is clear
in each day and passing year
so much beauty life can contain
if you can lay down for the pain
and at day's end if you have found
your wavering pegs on solid ground
you know another day is yours
and you've made it safe again to shore
life's but a bauble of toil and cost
yet still we might find what we've lost
re-kindle sparks like beacons glow
transformed to the flame we did dearly know
come live this life and seize this day,
may you find your self along the way
until the deeps take us below
haul away, a-way!