Smarts
how long will u hide all that u are?
how long will u seperate the good from the bad
are you not who you are now
why are you trying to be someone else?
not everybody we confide in we should
not so much trust we give we should
not everybody we love we should
because not everybody we love we do…
not every desire we share we should
not every words written but spoken we should
not our own hearts betray we should
because in the end it’s really who we are…
The Midas’ Touch
Drifting through gardens
Touching a rose
Will it open or perish?
An angel’s touch
A Midas touch?
Simple gestures
Expressed like an
Emperor’s command.
Statues are animated
And dance like fireflies.
Is it an iris or a pearl?
Is it a creation or
a masterpiece?
A second glance
a golden rose.
A fallen angel a broken wing?
An isolated corner
The garden entertains
An unseen statue
Still made of stone
Blood Ties
Is it hard to love?
Something that should be natural
Forced
Efforts go unnoticed
Every action criticised
The same blood flows in our veins
Yet strangers we are
How can you compare?
Why is one better than the other?
Beyond my understanding
But not beyond hurt
Midas sands run like tiny agitated rivers
across the face of the blazen, merciless desert
The Golden God wields His hot anger
upon the wrinkles of the sand-blasted terrain
Grain silos stand: One Two Three
in a conspiring triangle
The apparent coolness of the silo
contrasts with the withering heat
clawing at the unyeilding silos
Within, the grain seeks protection, comfort
Ignorant of the evil closing in
Sinister hollowness, reducing space…
the silos completely aware of the increasing
pressure on the grain
Remove every last once of their
Being
Like Heroes in their own time