Poem Collection

The Rusty Junkyard

Rusty junkyard
Left my dreams
Can't salvage
So it seems

Take a look
Locks on the gate
Where my hopes
Rust and wait

Desert planet
Dry as a bone
I'm here
All alone

Rusty junkyard
Dust in my eyes
This is where my dreams
All lie

For there is no hope
No dreams to follow
Nothing to eat
No water to swallow

Desert planet
Left empty for years
Nothing to worry
Nothing to fear

Rusty junkyard
Something there
But I can't get
Maybe I shouldn't care

Stuck their
Big gates stationed high
There my dreams stay
That's where they lie

Desert planet
Where the water go
I feel so quenched
I feel so low

Gecko Poem

Tap drip... drip... dripping... in time
Destiny, fate; suddenly intertwine
Sound of the water, falls, echoes
As nearby... ceiling crawling gecko

Calls tick... tick... ticking... in chime
Telling another, they look so fine
Perched upon the wall with clawed feet
A friend approaches and meets

Nothing silence... silence... silencing... too unkind
These creatures stare at each other, seemingly bind
With a flicker of it's tongue, twist of it's tail
It turns away " it's skin turning more pale

Claw scratch... scratch... scratching to climb
Following one another on the roof, (where) geckos shine
Moving in their own unique patterns
Eating bugs, slowly getting fatten

One hiss... hiss... hissing... stopping in line
Watching a moth flutter; as it's fate aligns
With reflexes of a lion waited
Gecko's hunger, ready to get sated

Hit smack... smack... smacking... gecko's find
Killing the prey, other gecko grasps side of the hind
Staring down each other, unwilling to share
Tails once again turning, friends now not care

Pull, rip... rip... ripping... wind and pine
Apart the meal from it's very chine
Happy ending for the pair of blighters
These are friends, not uncivilized fighters...

Have you Heard the News?

Huey my inspiration, you sing in time
The bass riff in your songs, like a chime
Saxophone putting the savvy in crime
And your music, oh your music, so fine

I read the News today, a paper in my hand
Found out you were sued, and you were damned
Ghosts from the past, throwing out sand
But nothing will hold down the News, the band

Harmonica spewing pure talent into my ears
Taking away my anxiety, my fears
There is nothing sad about your work, no tears
Huey is the man – the one everyone cheers

Movie success, a soundtrack for all to adore
From the beginning, until the end, encore
Zemeicks the mind, and News hitting the floor
Standing a pillar of 90s success, straight and tall

Yet incorporated in the psycho game of an axe
Nothing this News ever dims or lacks
From black and white, old cabin shacks
Four leaf clovers, the thing that Huey backs

Groovy sounds of the 80s sympathizes
Just enhances your talented devices
Naughty to the older folks, musical vices
Now you stand among them, giving out advices

The News is good and people can cheer and sigh
If you left us we would most definitely cry
You were one who inspired me to fly
And now I follow you're example, and love what I do;
Never back down to try

Writing Block

I cannot think of the words to describe the block I face
It feels like the concussion of a brutal knock of a mace
All I want is the words to flow from my fingertips
Rather than look blankly and bite my lower lip
Nothing seems fair in this stinge of uninspiration
Even the walks don't seem to feel like a sensation
Perhaps I should hand in the towel and look beyond
Yet this is what I desire, this is what I take fond
Gears seem to be stuck in a position of neutrality
Yet I don't seem to have the same feel of tranquillity
For the walls seem to close in my clastrophobic state
Which seems to abandon all good feelings anything tate
The goal so far away, yet seemingly close to discard
Wishing to smash the mirror of my plight into shards
If I can't get pass this sea of cabin fevish demands
Fears that I may not write again if I cannot withstand

Rain Poem

The rain is pouring outside
A feeling of relaxing sounds
It's a wonderful feeling
Hearing it all around

The continous natural audio
What a time to rest
For nothing is like rain
On a tin roof (it's the best)

Not warm sticky humid weather
But cool refreshing drops
A welcome sign from the farmer
To help him grow the crops

For the rain is my white noise
Lullaby for myself
I wish it never had to end
But I'm not greedy for it's wealth

However when it comes my way
I keep it like a rare treat
Nothing like the rain around you
As you curl up and go to sleep...

The Power of Sound

Sound waves pulsing through the brain
The only thing that can make me sane
Drown all the unwanted vibrations
Just to experience these sensations
Working to find that addictive bliss
Yet the ambitions we seem to miss
Music is everywhere, the great sound
A brain stimulant that must be found
Guitar distortion and the drug injection
Scratch of the blackboard for one's rejection
Carry on baby – I'm listening to rock
Surrounding forces, unfriendly I lock
Fire can engulf my insignificant matter
Yet I'd rather go out sane, than fish batter
Alive we should all want to feel, everyday
It shouldn't matter what you do or what you say
It's the power of music, it's never going to drown
So listen to the percussion backed sound
For it's a drug we can all crave and enjoy
Nothing can regulate the greatness of music joy