The way things were, they're not like today
So many things have changed, I think I've lost my way
Carrying on through the darkness, with a blindness in my mind
I've got to keep on looking, for what I need to find

You were never there when I needed someone
When I needed a hand, you turned away
I had no idea what to do
You wouldn't listen to what I'd say

A poem, of sorts, off the cuff. I don't think it makes a great deal of sense, but emotion rarely doeas :)

You're too quiet

You never shut up

You're always in my face

I don't see you enough


What do you want from me

I don't want to give you that

You're so dull

Your weird. I don't like it


Why don't you talk to me

I don't want to listen to you

Why don't you hold me more

I don't like the way you feel


I'd give you everything

You don't want anything of mine

What do you want from me

I want you to go away

untitled

drip, drip, drip,
the blood of an
unborn child drips,
from the mother
who feels her own pain,
who will never see
the child with no name,
as the blood of pain
drip, drip, drips...

Wrote that 3 years ago, typed from memory.

~Cia

 have been philosophising greatly,
As champagne often makes me do,
Preparing to herald in the new year,
I'm determined to see it through.
But I got to thinking about Y2K,
And its effect on society,
The whole thing was an Unwashed plot,
It is so clear to me.
For the power stations would not work,,
Electricity would be past,
So, people could not get water,
And they'd be left aghast,
For they could not bathe at all,
Let alone use s.o.a.p.,
They would be forever the Unwashed,
From the paupers to the Pope.
Thus, membership would rocket,
Poor Rosh would be in a spin,
People wouyld flock to us in their billions,
Begging to be let in.
Alas, the bug was caught in time,
The billions will not come,
But what a way to unite the world -
Unwashed - that's everyone!

Cheers from the Land of Oz

"Flight of the Arrow"

The bow is drawn
Life is fragile
Shaped by the day and night
A journey along Dawn's Highway
The ancient one finds his home
The shaping has begun
The arrow flies
Thoughts are growing
The doors are opened
The spirit is awake
The mind is no longer alone
At the edge of consciousness
The arrow falls
The beginning of the end
The mind is clouded
It's back to the start
It's all over now
Rest well, James

It reminds me of a poem I... er a friend wrote. Here it is...

Bacon, O Bacon,
You're what I love to taste best,
Without your smell,
I have no rest,
I love to smell you fry,
This I tell,
I will not lie

Bacon, O Bacon,
Even Shrimp doesn't taste as good,
You taste the best,
Better than any food,
Two or three miles I'd run,
I tell the you the truth,
To taste that bacon, fried in the sun.

Personally, shrimp is better, especially with butter...

Privacy

I sit in this room
Alone and forgotten.
Surrounded by friends,
Family and love.

Just one of the group,
Just part of the scenery
To play, jump and laugh,
But not make any noise.

The daemons of mind plague all of my nights.
The imaginative muse does dance in my head.
No place to release this cluttering madness,
For fear that the loved ones might peek in my head.

I just want to sit, quiet, in darkness.
I just want to smile, stare into the light.
A family of love, to big for it's britches.
Privacy impossible, except late at night.

Mark Jackman, 2000