Writing

Potentially Exponentially

I have never met someone,
someone quite like you.
With your intelligent ways
I say…
Genius in the finest terms,
retaining everything higher,
comprehending beyond ordinary –
extraordinary!
Gifted – beyond – dark horse
maybe even.
We don’t even know your power
but maybe you do?
Potential locked under key
perhaps planned to prevent something bigger?
Enigma in a way – behind thinking eyes…
Twisting and turning in thought –
you’ve told me you can taste it,
yet your tongue is too short to reach…
But in your presence I can feel it –
something greater…
Potential:

All purpled away
locked deep inside
writhing for chances –
it won’t stay.

Unlock the door,
unbutton old ways,
undo the chain,
unleash true brain!

Misty Dreams

He wanders slowly through the
darkest purples of the forest.
The moon decides to hide behind
an indigo shy cloud.
The leaves beneath his feet
crunch as the filthy rats squeal and squeak.
Little fireflies chase the hidden light
as he chases his desires.
The weary wild wind invades the canopies
of slumbering life
causing an owl to shake its feathers.
He steps onward through the hanging vines,
past the cold shimmering river
shining ultraviolet in the mist of thought.
A howl of the weary wolf wakes
the night air.
He shivers slightly as his foot
is pieced by bones of an unfortunate prey.
His blood mixes with the dirt of his journey
as he slowly veers off nature’s path
right into the heart of his lover’s sight.

Conviction

conviction (n): a belief or opinion that is held firmly

He works for the cause
Knowing fully his potential
To follow in great footsteps.
But what is great?
A shining star
On the Walk of Fame?
To him it is a star
Cemented into
The Sand of Time:
Fossilised.
His works preserved in nature:
Wildlife.
That which we smothered
With our greedy gasses
And our lust for cha-ching.

Convicted by his conviction.
A conviction? – as in sentenced?
A convict?
Perhaps – to the prison of our destruction.
His uniform is stripped lands
Where trees once belonged…
His jail bars are acid rain and rising waters…
But like a Mandela he chooses to use his
Time behind bars for the good of all:

Sacrifice branded into his meatless diet;
He will no longer be prisoner one day,
And neither will his children
Because he had it:
CONVICTION.

Inked

You might think I’m weird:
Maybe I’m too strong for you?
Does my opinion get you boiled?
Am I too bold?
Is my shine too bright?

I don’t walk the usual path;
I don’t wear your social norms;
I don’t believe in your higher powers…

Why does my tattooed chest
Bother you so much?
Is it because you long to be brave?
Long to be yourself?
Long to ink your life?
Or is ink too permanent for your lifestyle?
Will you be out of fashion next spring?
Will they no longer ‘love’ you?
Did conviction go out of fashion?
Is individuality no longer
On the menu at your gourmet restaurant?

I’d apologise for educating myself
On others subjects other than
Celebrity gossip and trashy ways
but then I’d be substanceless.
I’d rather live on the outside
Dancing to Nature’s song
Than inside craving likes like drugs.