of our being

For some poetry is the place to be

An escape-

ism

from the prism we have found ourselves in

 

the twirling

the whirling

the unrelentless blurring

of the lines

between reality and the alternate world(s)

 

A world that is scourged with

doubt with

pain, poverty,

power

 

but what we often fail to see

as we fall aimlessly is the beauty

 

the beauty of this earth, this home, this being

 

Us being

experiencing

the highs

the lows

the love

the loss

The unspeakable woes

The unstoppable boughs

Of the branches of our being

 

of our being

 

Watch it sprout

Grow

Flourish

And nourish

Our human need of being.

Of being.

Just.

Being.

 

Their Thoughts

Spiralling

Out of control

They cascade 

down this dark canvas

Overturned

Ricochet  

against the depths of despair

And lurk

Lurk behind the closing door

no rhyme or reason

can justify their

hat- red 

for race

for gender

for sexuality…

…differences

of being

For they are the prism

Stuck behind the kaleidoscope of their own colourless thoughts

The cage

They refuse to open 

To allow invitation

into the land of freedom of expression

for they keep schtum 

Afraid to run

To free- dom

Fear to be anything but ‘normal’
Staid
Relay the hate with speech

The future generations’ realisation 

(Plural)

is needed to not be

oppressed and overturned with overtones of

regret

For all the things that they could be

that they should be 

That they would- have- been.