The lies behind
Lay an uncertain future
Holding hope
For a clear future
What remains
Is the knife
And suture
To sow up the lies
That leak from my own mind
In due time
We will all know the truth
Of the uncertainties that lie ahead
Of what was true
From what was said
Where can you start
When the target
Moves
Shakes
The goal of starting is to go
The idea of success is to wait
How difficult is it
That we create
Blocks to begin
Blocks to end
Up and down
Starting point
But start again
Life puts on the breaks
Everywhere I go
The unfair game of comparison
Looking with a wry grin
The eyes of society
On one
Compared to another
I do not disagree
In football
Or some game of indignity
Comparison and contrast
There is no better or worse
Unless the views
Challenge your own chorus
Verse
So the wings of reality
Cry fowl play
When the image does not line
Up with
Reality
Why compare
Why win or lose
These games we play
We should just cut loose
The circus reigns
Pulling up on
Certain
Vital strains
Uprooting
Higher veins
Of connected issue
Interwove tissues
Who called
Who
What and why
The details blurry at best
Wrong at worst
The circus returns
To the golden coast
When we needed it
Very little
At most
I am afraid to look
Afraid to see
Afraid to be me
Inconsequently
I am afraid to breathe
The space in which we all exist
Is pressing on me
But I know good will come
Love over hate
Over the land we
Live and graze
There is a hope that persists
Even when we are afraid
Hope for new
Hope for life
Hope for love
Hope for you
Bandage my head with wires
Internet strewn bandage
Around my eyes
Holding in my brain
For the words
I see printed on the screen
So indignant
Mean
My hands swollen with anger
Frustration
How can it be that the world
Can be so indifferent
So mean
I feel as if it has already happened
We look past the glass
And see a monster
No water
Just what is
Life will be what it always has
And shall return to
The reality of humanity
What will come when
All the internet has
Has been left
Trolls can go back to their holes
Humanity can resume it’s role
What will happen
In the post internet world
Friday nights
With little to move
Setting out
Deep cut groove
Holding hands
Kissing to make up
What has been lost in a long week
Building up
But weak in the knees
Friday nights
Feeling free
The wires in my head
Disconnected
Laying in bed
Wondering of the rituals
To keep
And destroy
Homeless
But idle my hands my not be
Idle my brain wishes upon me
The wires wrought with contentious
Idea
Waiting to fall asleep
What will this new morning
Bring
A Cup of Songwriting 