Allsorts of Stuff

Poetry

Balance

What goes up must come down, as with drugs, as with emotions.

Realise a beautiful high, then suffer in silence.

Even a murderer, exultant in revenge must endure the remainder in pain.

Balance is a fickle weighing scale that constantly fights against our will to be happy.

Often we are ok, this never changes much because it is balanced, we are level.

If we are given great strength but are unable to control it, we will cause damage and suffer ourselves. If we control it, we can see a gain, as long as it is hidden, we will feel the benefit from it.

I just wanted to ramble, balance is on my mind, as this weekend has since saturday night been trying to balance out, what originally was a brilliant weekend.

Thanks for reading,

Pixc

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Inspired again, slowly

Gotta slow down, I was given a taste but this is not a race.

Question if it’s right, not sure if this is the way onward towards the light.

Looking back, is it disappearing.

 

Given a taste, impatience setting in, born out of instinct

Knowing before when it was slow, it was better

Wondering if that time could have been much better, if slowed down ever more

Given a chance to test that theory, programmed to speed ahead, wish to go slow

If its mutual why wait, but if we are both mistaken, what then?

 

Slow, deliberate, it’s not a race, keep pace, side by side.

 

 

once again women are my inspiration, I have wrote many times about other things but women are often what sparks me, through anger, through love, friendship and lust, women drive me to express, to explore my mind, my words and my heart. Cherish them with all your heart!


No Boundaries

Dream about breaking walls, cutting down fences, metaphorical corks in the bottles of life. Melting the ice caps of the world to get the core of that inner pleasure like its some lindt filled giant malteaser. You ain’t got the balls to please her, she’s on another level, putting up walls that will only be traversable when you’re in heaven.

Your words they are pretty, but the face don’t match, it couldn’t spark a light, it could not even a fish catch. The glimmer of hope lies in the words you write but would she read it, she might, chance are she’ll be somewhere out of sight in a far away place, you couldn’t reach over night.

The regulations in a worldwide organisation cost him a push to the top, because it wanted to star in a comedy club, what was the need in stopping this one night of laughter, i’ll say it greed. Maybe power created this illusion that this action was a lack of respect, maybe it was just a lapse in concentration, a confusion that was not clear before a decision was made, an idea that maybe your boss shouldn’t control your whole damn life, as long as it doesn’t encroach on the rich man’s time, right?

To be continued . . .


Doctors – a poem about regeneration

We have been through the war. the time war, fought daleks and cybermen, lost human after human, still we carry on, do you not think it is understandable that the rules are now lying broken on the floor?

We have seen planets and stars, the end of the world, a new earth and met people we have only dreamt of. Still there is so much to see.

So why do each of us stick around for such a short time?

Because there are so many faces to choose from, so many people to be!


Control

still awake, early hours, words, inspiration flooding my mind

knowledge of what has to be done, fear I can’t be myself

controlled to be something I am not because if I don’t I suffer

suffer while I am controlled because I can’t be free, be myself

entrapment, prison, do as we say not as we do, feel as we want, not as we do

control is the only way they keep the power

only some will be able to break free of this

only some will be able to free themselves

other must think how to twist the system to fit themselves

creative thinking to loosen the grip of that controlled vice like grip on your life

or is it an illusion, that you have freed yourself, to keep you under control

tying yourself in knots, they are winning


Poetry

I rustle my hands through my beard

Thoughts are spinning, feelings are weird

The time that I’ve spent wondering what if

Living my life on the hope of that gift

A girl in dream, a price I can’t see

Lost battles and victories torn at the seam

I unravelled my mind, for a truth I can’t find

I life I’ll never land, hope as tiny as a grain of sand

Still follow the bristles on my face

Do I even belong in this place


Fingers Crossed

So I sit, so I lay, so I live fingers crossed.

I wish that I could thaw this frozen passion
I live in hope I might not wait long

A line was drawn, I hope not set in stone
A wall it might be that freezes me
Can I cross it, dare I try

Still I lay fingers crossed
Staring at the space where you should lay