Manipulations

Manipulations dark and deep,
Do you believe the lies you speak,
Twisted into tales of woe,
So you can always steal the show.

Manipulations fast and true,
Behind mistrust sits all you do,
Disparaging each choice I make,
While your whole character is fake.

Manipulations cruel and mean,
Your dirty tricks polish the scene,
And all who view are snowed within,
The glamour of your phoney grin.

Manipulations cold and raw,
Your spite exists beneath the thaw,
With one hand you deliver grace,
The other slaps me in the face.

Manipulations harsh and wild,
I always was a baffled child,
I never ever seemed to win,
I always took it on the chin.

Manipulations clash and shout,
You loved to cause a verbal bout,
I quickly learned to keep inside,
Those feelings that I had to hide.

Manipulations old and worn,
Your tricks are feeble and forlorn,
For I know how the game is played,
And shun your narcissistic trade.

Manipulations dark and deep,
My fragile heart would slowly weep,
But now the truth is mine to hold,
The future looks a lot like gold.

Sensory Overload

Sensory overload,
Smashing my brain,
Too loud to be quiet,
Too mad to be sane,
Emotions are screaming,
My skin is a crawl,
It’s too late at night,
To be taking a fall.

Sensory overload,
Spinning so fast,
The world moving on,
While my mind’s in a cast,
I fumble and stumble,
Their voices so loud,
Was there any real point,
To be chasing the crowd.

Sensory overload,
Whispers that sting,
I try to be calm,
But I hear everything,
I feel the anxiety,
Eating my flesh,
It’s drumming my blood,
Through a chaotic mesh.

Sensory overload,
Cannot lay still,
I feel like my thoughts,
Are held ransom by thrill,
Raging and staging,
A plot to avenge,
With too many narratives,
Seeking revenge.

Sensory overload,
Savaged by light,
My spirit too weary,
To summon the fight,
My heart is so heavy,
My head such a mess,
Sensory overload,
Sick of distress.

The World Is Too Busy

The world is too busy,
Creating a vibe,
That humans are feeling,
They have to ascribe,
We’re told who to be,
What to say, how to dress,
But no one is helping us,
Deal with the stress.

The world is too busy,
With shallow rejoice,
While those of us wounded,
Are losing our voice,
Berated for sadness,
Belittled by shame,
As the hollow majority,
Battle for fame.

The world is too busy,
Disposing of truth,
On the rat race of life,
We are losing our youth,
To traumas and tragedies,
Violence and pain,
It is time for the tears,
To be cleansed by the rain.

The world is too angry,
We need a reprieve,
I am sick of the blood,
Being wiped on my sleeve,
Imagine some kindness,
Erasing the wrong,
I’m pretty sure that,
Was the gist of a song.

The world is too busy,
Too tired, too lost,
And living the dream,
Seems to come at a cost,
If only acceptance,
Could bring us the high,
We wouldn’t be chasing,
Humanity’s lie.

A Creative Life

A creative life, that’s free of strife,
Now wouldn’t that be great,
Caress beneath the wilderness,
And watch my mind partake,
Poetic cheer to quell the fear,
Where artistry meets fate,
A guitar strum to fight the glum,
With freedom to create.

A gifted heart, oh where to start,
When chances do abound,
To run a trail where mountains sail,
And dreams are to be found,
Or play a song that rights a wrong,
With lyrics sweetly sound,
To soak the air of nature’s fair,
Would surely keep me ground.

A healthy soul, no rabbit’s hole,
My spirit free of chaff,
Bipolar, you have stole her,
But I got the final laugh,
The dark you sold was turned to gold,
By magic from my staff,
I wield it high and say goodbye,
To doing things by half.

A creative life, that has no strife,
What wonders that would bring,
Degrees of rhyme frozen in time,
Warm memories to cling,
On old guitar, which holds by far,
The greatest songs to sing,
A beating heart, a fresh new start,
A life with everything.

I Know It’s Late

I know it’s late,
But this can’t wait,
My mania is caught,
Between the lines,
Of words and rhymes,
So here is every thought,
I must attest,
That night is best,
To gather feelings sought,
Where life’s refrain,
And sullen pain,
Wage wars that must be fought.

I know it’s late,
But rhythms rate,
Much better after dark,
My brain’s enlarged,
With neurons charged,
That pressure me to hark,
Just like a bird,
Whose call is heard,
Above the boisterous bark,
I must prevail,
For dreams set sail,
When heroes find their mark.

I know it’s late,
But words are great,
And oozing from my mind,
Sometimes I feel,
The madness wheel,
Has wound its final wind,
My tos and fros,
Are churning prose,
With chaos intertwined,
I’m tossed ashore,
From violent roar,
With freedoms left to find.

I know it’s late,
But this can’t wait,
My sweet capricious soul,
Is bounding fast,
Where feelings blast,
Towards the rabbit’s hole,
By writing you,
This subtle hue,
Of doggerel to scroll,
I often find,
My manic mind,
Can gain some lost control.

Dark Side Of The Moon

There is no doubt
When demons shout
And shadows fill your soul
You’re walking through
A damaged view
Where halves cannot be whole
And bitter sorts
Malign your thoughts
Where chaos fears to loom..

Engulfing all that’s madness
On the dark side of the moon

The mind you shake
Where headaches quake
Is bleeding deep within
Its faction
Losing traction
As the crazy strikes your chin
The voices heard
Through punished word
Have silenced every room..

With sanity in question
On the dark side of the moon

And deep your cost
Was freedoms lost
When tragedy befell
The life you knew
Has fallen through
The rabbit hole from hell
But now you must
Survive mistrust
It’s over all too soon..

The reaper dances wryly
On the dark side of the moon

So summon haste
To forfeit waste
For time is running out
The years tick bye
As childhoods cry
And dreams are turned to drought
But efforts sought
Are journeys caught
So write another tune..

And dare to face adventure
On the dark side of the moon

Family’s Only Family

Family’s only family,
If there’s fondness of the heart,
When bloodlines become rancid,
Then the whole thing falls apart,
And life becomes survival,
From their trauma laden darts,
No room for understanding,
When the narcissism starts.

Friendship’s only friendship,
When it is a two way street,
Acceptance must be balanced,
Or I’ll mount a fast retreat,
Respect, support & kindness,
Are not qualities you cheat,
The truth is if you cannot love,
Then I choose not to meet.

Enemies are enemies,
But frenemies are worse,
They complement in public,
Then they stab you with a curse,
Eventually their colours show,
The conversation terse,
I’ve no more time for those in line,
To condescend my verse.

Acquaintance is acquaintance,
When the lines are never blurred,
But move beyond to friendship,
And the complications stirred,
Can lead towards a frenemy,
Where families are heard,
To say that blood is thicker,
But I think they’re all absurd.

Expressions

Expressions can be lessons,
If you open up your mind,
Renounce the hate that storms the gate,
And freedom you will find,
For once the narc that filled your dark,
Has withered and declined,
Your voice that’s true can shout anew,
And leave the past behind.

An utterance of clutterance,
Can quickly skew the heart,
Unless you hence a quick defence,
To break the source apart,
Don’t listen when they glisten,
For their words can form a dart,
That punctures every function,
Till there’s nowhere left to chart.

A declaration forms a nation,
Still we’re yet to see,
That power gains a tower,
Over humankind’s decree,
And woe the soul that dug a hole,
No privileges for thee,
There’s something bent with government,
When people can’t be free.

Assertions cast aspersions,
When the ignorant abound,
And if your ride is pushed aside,
The stigma is profound,
With mental health a floating shelf,
The system truly drowned,
There’s little hope for ways to cope,
When life has gone to ground.

An idiom presidium,
Can quash the silent voice,
A rigid book can overlook,
When justice makes its choice,
So do observe with some reserve,
Who instantly rejoice,
For sometimes life can offer strife,
Even for Rolls of Royce.

A statement can be blatant,
And this simple prose of mine,
Existed in a moment,
I was lost in manic time,
But words beget a heart’s regret,
With sentimental chime,
Sometimes the word may be absurd,
At least the verses rhyme.

Scattershot

Scattershot, it is the plot,
When mania abounds,
There is no room for feelings zoom,
As crazy makes the rounds,
No need for sleep, but souls do weep,
When swollen by the pounds,
Yes scattershot, it is the plot,
I’m silenced by its sounds.

Overjoy, was once the ploy,
But it was just a joke,
For life can be a comedy,
And cause a heart to choke,
So never mind the humankind,
Whose judgements are bespoke,
Yes overjoy, was once the ploy,
But now it’s blowing smoke.

Underhand, engulfed the land,
And now we are a race,
Of liars, cheats and processed meats,
No substance left to grace,
It’s instant high to satisfy,
No quality or space,
Yes underhand, engulfed the land,
And we have lost our face.

Scattershot, became the plot,
But madness ran away,
And hid itself upon the shelf,
To fight another day,
But as for now, I’m stealing wow,
And thundering my way,
Yes scattershot, once held the plot,
But I will hold today.

Triggers

Everything’s a trigger,
When the crazy’s at your door,
You try to fight with all your might,
But pain wants to explore,
The ins and outs of raging doubts,
That haunt you to your core,
When lizard brain has no refrain,
The trigger strikes once more.

Everyone’s a trigger,
When the manic mind awakes,
It drives a need at bullet speed,
To neutralise the fakes,
But tension brings dissension,
When the conversation breaks,
Your mind at war, holds court no more,
When triggers up the stakes.

Everywhere’s a trigger,
When depression flys the flag,
It’s in the dark where shadows bark,
That fear begins to brag,
A fragile mask provides an ask,
When deep inside you sag,
But woe betide the gendered ride,
When triggers come to gag.

Everyday’s a trigger,
When your life’s a lot like mine,
Emotions spin the world you’re in,
And health is past decline,
And narcissism schism,
Is the line that isn’t fine,
The trigger’s always bigger,
When the bully has no spine.