Teenage

There was a little horse, a clever chap was he,

he looked back in time and its history

Days about the war, when horses they were used

among the bombs and bullets, by which they were abused

They just carried on with their bravery

all the fear inside they just didn’t see

Courage of lion, as brave as they could be

fighting for their country, help to set it free

How they had to gallop with bodies all around

they just kept on going through the muddy ground

then when the war was over they took a rest and then

ready for their fight if they were called again.

The horse he learnt a lot from back in history

signed up for the forces, a war horse now was he

Just like all the horses that showed their bravery

that showed all their courage to set the country free

Carl went to school…

If you think about your past, it will be your future.
If you think about what your future can be, it will be.

The past is gone.
The future is unknown,
unless you make the present into a gift you want.

Forget the past, make your future.

Oh bird, oh bird
I hope you fly
but not to die
you should be safe
oh bird, oh bird

There is an abyss,
an abyss of hate and fear.

There is an abyss,
an abyss of hurt and longing.

There is an abyss,
an abyss I am falling into.

There is an abyss, an abyss,
deep inside my soul.

Concealer, foundation, blusher,
Am I good enough now?

Bs, and A*s
Am I good enough now?

Rings, Designer Clothes, the most expensive phones,
Am I good enough now?

Mansions, riches, diamonds,
Am I good enough now?

I changed for you.
AM I GOOD ENOUGH NOW?

The light is blinding,
blinding, blinding me.

My heart is beating,
beating, deafening me.

My mind is threatening,
threatening, killing me.

I am dying,
dying, dying today.

My palace under the Garden
where I reside and grow,
but I am not given credit
as their hidden king below.
My rule is one of subtlety;
the cloak I wear won’t stay.
So I give my realm a greater gift:
how to find their way.
Those I hunt have never fought,
instead they come to borrow
the truth about an apple,
of which I say to know.
I do not corrupt my lands,
and I certainly will not hide.
They can choose for themselves;
I am just the King of the Other Side.
My palace under the Garden
Where I spend my days with pride
I give to my subjects only what they seek:
The wisdom of the Other Side.

The click of the lock on the door
whispers, “Don’t worry,
you’re alone;
you can b r e a t h e.”

Collapsed weight on a
creaking, aged mattress;
the only sense of comfort
that seems to care

other than the purring mass of fluff
that decides to make a bed
from your stomach

before you know it
everything around seems to f a d e…

the space and stars
sing melodies and hymns,
comforting your tired, tired ears
tired mind
tired soul
tired everything

at least, in your head
there is no worry
over exhaustion
over responsibility
because all you’re doing
is floating
endlessly
it’s almost
too easy to slip away;
to forget everything
that is binding you
to the mortal coil

to be a spectator
rather than a participant
in the hurt, the pain,
the sadness, the loss…

the digging of claws
in your forearm
brings you back to the present;
the imperfect, bleeding reality

you remember
everything you must do;
that Japanese packet,
a project for government,
even this very poem
for creative writing

it’s not asking much,
shouldn’t be a problem to get
some simple assignments done;
you’ve been told
“You’re s m a r t,”
“you’re b r i g h t.”
But are your luminescent lights
like the Sun?
or a r t i f i c i a l ?

In a world of conformity
Individuality I cannot see
Is it the beak or the bill
The blanket or the quilt
The power of an individual
The weakness of an individual
It is easy to fall down
But so hard to get back up
So why should you feel okay when you put someone down?
What if they never get back up?
I feel like a friend that is friendless
And a man that is powerless
If you had the barrel pointed in your direction
Would you still be able to show the same affection?