Breaking the Illusion

At times you sit

In the darkness wondering,

What is it that I’m hearing?

What is it that I’m seeing?

Is this a vision,

is this a message

that I’m meant to be receiving?

While I sit and wonder

Can anyone else

Hear these words

That are echoing in my head,

Or see the epiphanies

Dancing, shaking,

Falling before my eyes?

Do you see what I see?

Do you hear what I hear?

These voices swarming

Inside my head,

Thoughts that are mangled,

Or incomplete,

Screaming for attention,

To be heard,

To be seen,

To be shaped and moulded

And put into a message

To give to someone else.

To give to those

in need of answers.

To give to those of

You who can’t see

what’s in front of you!

Where you see peace,

I see destruction.

Where you see fun,

I see self-harm

Much more violent

than hidden acts

in your room when

you feel nothing at all

and much more damaging

than a sharpened blade.

It’s standing in front

Of you screaming

In your face,

Wake up and see

All The damage that

you’re doing,

not just to yourself,

but to all those

around you.

Your way of life,

A constant pursuit of joy,

In vain as you’ll

Never find it where

You like to look.

Open your eyes and

Picture it if you can,

An endless cycle

That you don’t want

To escape from,

Trapped like the line

Forming the edge of

a circle,

destined to go round

till you’re as long

as a piece of string.

Do you see an end?

Do you see a goal?

Why even bother

If week in week out,

You do the same thing.

Make money,

Spend it.

Labour for money,

Throw it away.

Painstakingly earn

A handful of pennies

Just to fund another lap

Around you’re closed

Circuit track.

Take heed and notice

Before it’s too late.

Listen to the voices.

Accept what you see.

Change your ways

Before you drag everyone else

Who’s following Your lead

To their own dark room

And leave them there

To find the light

Switch for themselves.

Look closely now

At what’s in front of you.

Look past the illusion

Presented by those

Who are also misguided.

Listen to that voice

Speaking inside your head

And now tell me

If you see what I see.

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Making Sense of it All

Gone are the days

When things made

Perfect sense.

 

When we are young,

All we need to understand

Are the basics of math,

What games to play at lunch,

Where we can

And couldn’t go,

What we can

And can’t do.

 

Then we grow up.

Things become complicated.

Things start happening.

Now, not much makes sense

Anymore.

 

We try to comprehend

The things that happen,

Adding things together

That maybe shouldn’t be added

To get wrong conclusions,

And adding other things

To give us partial answers.

 

Time is spent

Fighting for logic,

For things to be ordered.

 

But when one question

Is answered,

Another takes its place

Consuming

Heart and mind

Once more.

 

As we try to figure out

Why things happen

Or how they happened,

We can become conceited,

As we attempt to understand

The humanity around us,

As we search

For what is hidden

Right in front of us.

 

It soon gets to a point

Where we wonder

“Is it worth it?”

But push on anyway

As the reality we saw

Crumbles to dust.

 

All that is left behind

Is a table top,

Covered in scratches

That were made

In a vain attempt

To make sense

Of the world.

Pig Sty

Sex, Sex, Sex.

All over the TV.

All over the newspapers.

Look to a billboard

And it’s up there too.

It’s everywhere around us,

We can’t get away from it.

 

Sex, Sex, Sex.

Some guy in a movie

Saying ‘next, next, next.’

To all of the women

After sleeping with them,

Giving teenage boys

The misconceived idea

That it’s the right thing to do.

 

Sex, Sex, Sex.

Girls going around at night

Showing the boys

What they’ve got

And leaving very little

To the imagination,

All because they read about it

And see it in the magazines,

Giving them the impression

That boys won’t like them

Unless they go around like that.

 

Sex, Sex, Sex,

Is this what society has come to?

Is this what is accepted

As the social norm?

We’re becoming a filthy civilization,

Controlled by a dirty desire

And influenced by a tarnished world.

‘Sex sells.’ they say,

But it corrupts the mind

At the end of the day.

 

Sex, Sex, Sex,

Do we really want our children

To be exposed

To all of this,

Corrupting their innocence

And forcing them to grow up

Quicker than they should?

 

Sex, Sex, Sex.

That’s all that life

Seems to be about now,

When it should be about

So much more.

We look down on porn,

And yet it’s well embedded

Within the world order.

 

Sex, Sex, Sex.

We’re all people of the same

Value and worth,

We’re not objects to be used

To fulfil someone’s

Dirty dishonourable desires.

 

Sex, Sex, Sex.

Let us cast this demon

Out of our society,

Free our people from

Its lustful entanglement

And deliver us from

Its evil embrace.

 

Sex no more!

Let us restore

Its original god given

Intention and meaning,

And heal a world

In much need of cleaning.

Infinite Possibilities

So many questions,

so many possible answers.

The unknowns of life,

plaguing curiosity.

 

A journey for answers,

trying everything possible.

Trying to solve a mystery

without turning into a monstrosity.

 

Wondering,

never knowing for sure

If what you know or think

is fact or fiction.

Doubt creeps in,

filling the mind with fantasies of truth or lies,

Bringing one closer to paranoia,

when knowing becomes an addiction.