Archive for February 8, 2012


What your not my friend
No more was it something
You did or saw was it
Something I said or should
Have done instead or should
I have asked for more
What your not my friend
Now should I pretend that
I never knew you should
I now open my heart and
Take out that part that
Always reassured you that
I would be there until the
End that on me you could
Depend and no matter what
Others do say I’ll be here
For you every day now
Your yelling at me about
How unhappy you are
What your not my friend
So I’ll cover that scar with
No memory I’ll try and
Forget your the same as
Me and concentrate instead
That we all make mistakes
Even if only in our heads
And when the time does
Come you know I’ll be the
One to still hold your hand
And forever help you stand
For you will be always my
Friend

What makes a poem or
A verse is it the need
To constantly rehearse
Is it receiving acclaim
Or when others refrain
And say that was a second
Or first
What makes a poem or
A verse is it the need
To express and succeed
To something whispered
Or heard or is it desire
To set another on fire
With emotions reflected
In word
What makes a poem or
A verse is it the need
To constantly feed on
Others to make sure
We are heard and thus
Satisfy the greed of
Our minds to somehow
Converse

Just a question
Are all government employees
Endowed with a degree in
Stupidity that they somehow
Agree to fool the public they
See to some lesser extent
That they are hell bent what
Ever the extent on creating
Misery
Just a question
Are all government employees
Not able to see past that page
Of discontent they are so hell
Bent on following so diligently
If they took the time for your
Position or mine would they act
So stupidly time will tell for
They as well are loosing their
Jobs regularly
Just a question
Are all government employees
Blind to the fact that there’s
No turning back from the path
They have created for we for
The doors are closed and nobody
Knows how deceitful they could
Be
Just a question
Are all government employees
Just plain bloody stupid

Why lie if you carnt
Handle it when caught
Out you act like a prick
A twat or some other
Cat caught with cream
On your whiskers
Why lie if you carnt
Face up to the fact
You knew the risk before
The act like a git you had
Balanced and swayed and
Your judgement you made
Before you opened your
Mouth and now the truth
Is out you angrily protest
It’s not the fact your a lier
But that the truth was
Best forgotten so you could
Stay rotten and thus digest
Your wicked deed for that
Is you at your best indeed
Why lie if you carnt
Accept the consequences due
For you would be just as
Outraged should someone
Lie to you

I dreamt of the dead last
Night and how they clung
On to life for those last
Few seconds just before
Giving in to that eternal
Darkness and the inevitability
That death does bring
I dreamt of the dead last
And they were not happy
To see me they gathered
To petition my return in
An attempt to clear me
From a death I did not earn
In their hollow eyes were
Questions of my demise and
Why I had come willingly
To the place of their abode
I dreamt of the dead last
And upon my return to sanity
The lesson I think I did learn
Was walk your road with
Meaning from pain there
Is no screening out of human
Misery
I dreamt of the dead last
And now put on my boots
Doing up the laces tight ready
For another days fight for
Death does bring true meaning
To life

Am I forgiven
For those things I wanted
To be lost in my complacency
When I was all alone before
I came home and there was
You and me for everyone has
A history some parts of which
Occasionally make us moan
An groan
Am I forgiven
For those things I’ve done
Some of which were only
Fun and only to test and
See if I could get away with
It for there is only one of
Me sometimes I have to
Wonder did outsiders stop
And ponder what it was
That motivated me
Am I forgiven
For holding tight to my
Dreams if only at night
For I realise with a fright
That there is no coming
Back from dead
Am I forgiven
For being me

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