Strings Attached

Well you know I'm rather artsy
and it affects the way I think
I bear my soul to those I don't know
like a man out on the drink
I espouse my thoughts and philosophies
but sober I remain
knowing full well, those ideals upon which I dwell
cause me nothing more than pain
life imitating Art you see
is nothing more than a dream
for conservative conventions usurp our intentions
and stitch us up at the seams
I'm freakish as on the fringe I hang
attached by this garroting thread
judged for believing differently
and the controversial things I've said
tell me what is the point of carrying on this way
trying to make water in to wine?
it's not a tale that I can swallow or system I'd follow
but I chase it all the time
tell me what is the point of carrying on this way
and trying to make my mark?
when the crowds they will crush you,
with tarred brush they will rush you
snuffing out that faint spark
For you know I'm rather artsy
and it affects the way I think
I feel so pathetic, wish I were apathetic,
or could drown away into drink
Yes, you know I'm rather artsy
and it affects the way I think
but I'm hooked to the seam, attached by a dream
so I'll give a nod and a wink...

The Yielding Limb

You sit alone
amidst strong yielding trees
as the wind, it howls
born of a breeze
the ghost of thoughts
rove swirling round your head
mixing pleasure with all that you dread
mixing pleasure with all that you dread

Away from home
where you can not dwell
and dogmatic circumstances
of this personal hell
the life you live
and the one of which you wish
leave you broken by all that's amiss

Why do we even try
to live in a world that
makes us deny?
O why, O why do we try
in a world where
our dreams are denied?

The days we spend
in a life so brief
stuck and gutted
like a wretched wreck on a reef
a sea that's so vast
filled with beauty and strife
the cruel savage nature of life
the cruel savage nature of life

Thoughts of a day
when these winds fill your sails
and the tempest desists
pulling you through this gale
to be in a place
as a tree rooted and sound
bend but not broken on the ground

Why do we even try
to live in a world that
makes us deny?
O why, O why do we try
in a world where
our dreams are denied?

Living in the Culture of Fear

The culture of fear
leaves us little release
stuck like a crumb
in the throat of the beast
the violence and terror
we need to be freed from
get passed on down
through the barrel of a gun
what if we all just ignored
the lies that have been set
can we ever be separated
from the greed that we beget?

Weapons in space
are the next bold frontier
billions blast off
this brilliant blue sphere
despite starving millions
they still make their case
to defend our freedom,
justifying this waste
but what kind of freedom is it
with everyone in someone's sights
pawns of power we've become,
swords, bombs now satellites

Now this hate they sell
creates this hell,
and we're lost forever more
for the culture of fear
drives us all to tears
and we're lost forever more

I try to live life
the best that I can
but just like the love
of a woman and man
nothing is simple
and sometimes we quit
or we're too overwhelmed
by society's whip
but what matter are our lives
when so many each day are lost
things will never ever change
if we keep paying the cost

The culture of fear
leaves us little release
though some of us try,
taking the throat of the beast
choose what to swallow, don't wallow
but choose to ask why
and live fully this day
for on one tomorrow we die.

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.