Empty Page

I’ve felt the cut from broken love
kept warm with frozen blood
shut off, refused to open-up
but nothing ever hurt as much
as an empty page.

I’ve been kicked and hit
rejected and labelled a misfit
nobody around to kick it with
but loneliness didn’t exist
until an empty page.

I couldn’t feel my heart beat
try and feel the pulse on my sleeve
woeful, how hard it must be to be me
until I painted colour onto this sheet
and filled the page.
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Cubicle

Our cubicle was a stage,
We took a 9 to 5 on the road.

Keyboards clattered as we played,
and dreamed the dream of old.

We sang the songs of our youth,
before we grew too quick to live.

Rejected lies buried in the truth,
as we rocked the roof of a gig.

Signing autographs, autonomous rock stars
discovering what life really meant.

We sung our hearts in the name of art
behind a guitar, instead of a desk

Last night, I dared to dream,
before I rolled over and hit snooze.

Trying to recapture the moment again,
when the dream was still ours to choose.

Bullets From A Gun

Take aim with a gun
Steady hand as bullets run
A click of a trigger can’t be undone
Unleash hatred, born out of love

Wishing you never fell for her eyes
Or buried yourself deep within lies
Soon you’ll realise, war doesn’t hide
The innocent willingly give their life

Was the pleasure, worth the pain?
Savour the bitter taste of her fame
On whose shoulders did she lay blame
Did she mention them by name?

The subject of your loveless laughs
As you lost each other in romantic bars
Did you see the light in the stolen dark?
Are you to blame for a broken heart?

Am I guilty of a crime I didn’t commit
All I did was love her with all my sins
Was I the angel she couldn’t forgive,
Or was I the devil she missed?

Was it a mistake to fall in love?
Was it your lust or my dreaded disgust?
Has this murder become a part of us?
Are you faster than bullets from a gun?

This is East London

This is east London, littered with history
Built up industries, prosperity and misery
Part of a city, charmed with ethnicity
Breath-taking skyscrapers, capture us vividly
The inspiration behind this written piece
But how many of its citizens are living free?
Hackneys up and coming, now it’s trendy
Home to some of those we consider wealthy
But poverty exists here, for people who live here
For all the talk of legacy, not much was fixed here
A generation broken, homeless, young and hopeless
No hope is the only hope most of us soak in
We worry about global threats, with local trends
That most of us still neglect to openly address
Schools whip into shape for Ofsted reports
But what goes unseen Ofsted doesn’t report
A lack of rapport leads to attacks on the poor
The forgotten class, a community lost in folklore
This is east London, littered with history
A vision of prosperity but I still see misery

Entrepreneur

He had it all
an entrepreneur who broke the mould,
but the only thing he ever sold
was his soul.

Devices

The devices we use,
to disguise who we are
from who we were.

Running from the past,
blindfolded into tomorrow
never knowing when luck will change
the voices directing us
along the path we’re lost on.

Darkness – Haiku

he danced in darkness
but those shadows came to life,
on the day he died.