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My Poetry
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Welcome to the sCHITZoNIA
Poetry Page ...
Just some things I've
written when I've been either bored,
coming down (with
something), or confused!?!
Hey maybe you can even
relate to some of them !
... Anyway - Enjoy ....
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Selling Out
“I’m selling my
story
And maybe my
soul.
Soul filled
with problems,
Story of old.
Old is an
answer,
To some peoples
woe.
Woe is a
product,
A product you
know.”
index
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Justice Within You
Ashes of
freedom blown away in the wind,
Is there a
punishment for committing a sin,
Do we all know
what happened back then,
Are we a shade
from the righteous men?
The soil of the
earth and the heat of the day,
Combine with
ease to create a new place.
With gates made
of diamonds and towers built with jade,
Behold a land
where our lives are remade.
Over the gates
and beyond the two towers,
As far as can
see are blossoming flowers,
That tell you
to listen with the will of the land,
And slowly
you’ll start to understand.
Sin hasn’t
shape within what’s right.
It’s a part of
the process as dark is with night.
But only until
the sun starts to rise,
Brandishing
earth with visible fires.
So forgive the
bad before it expires,
Or the sky will
turn red and the flowers will die.
Eventually all
mankind will cry:
“Is that enough
payback - God? … Help me try!”
index
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Riding Drunk In A Car
Space
containing vision,
Casting smiles
on open eyes.
Land has no
rules,
But people make
up lies.
Tracks of wind,
Causing my
hands to fly.
Sweeping low,
Touching night.
Feeling numb,
Then sweeping
high.
Why only now,
Do I feel
right?
Levels of
thought,
Showing more
than just one,
Lines of truth,
Or lives of
fun.
It’s into
tangles,
I always run.
How do I get
back,
To where I’m
from?
I’m hungry for
myself,
I need to
recline.
Travel long
dusty paths,
Going right
back through time
I will put back
the bricks,
Which were
knocked away.
Then things
will get better,
And stay that
way.
index
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A Trip Through The Mind
Don’t worry,
keep going,
It’s the drug
that’s confusing you.
You’re in there
somewhere,
Arranged in a
different state.
It’s not too
late to say:
‘The world is
my friend,
It’s my mind
that’s the enemy.’
Have you felt
like this before?
Dreams seem so
real, you are sensing much more.
I think it’s a
glimpse of a new way of life.
There’s no
point trying to work it all out.
We’re all
passengers in each others trains.
Do you feel
quite strange?
Believe me, you
still look the same.
Please don’t
feel the need to explain,
To me or him or
her or them.
When vision
fades and sound reclines,
Don’t hang on
to wasted times.
Kick back and
take a comfortable seat,
Relax into this
profound treat.
If freedom’s
all the answer is,
Then gently
float, enjoy the bliss.
You’ll find
your way,
Enjoy the trip.
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Trust Me
Crumbs of
sorrow, grains of doubt,
Broken off your
manly fixture.
Worrying for
what it’s all about,
Speak up cos I
can’t hear ya.
I never needed
to know you,
But I’m willing
to try and help.
I’ve always
tried to tell you,
Every fear that
I have felt.
Is it really
all that bad,
Can’t you just
raise a smile?
Please don’t
smoke your mind away,
Or put yourself
on trial.
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Difference
Sounds of
vision, smell and touch,
Colours of joy
I love so much,
Scenes of lust
and beautiful sex,
Her gentle body
I caress.
Shattered bones
and broken glass,
Hurling blood
from the blast,
Pain and death
are the gruesome plans,
Which so many
hold in their hands.
The choice is
mine which way to go,
Follow the
fruit or reap the woe,
The final
answer I do not know,
So I try to
learn and I pray to grow.
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Stormy Weather
My mind is like
a tempest,
Thoughts and
feelings swept away.
A change of
life is what I need,
Should I go or
should I stay?
If only I could
find a path,
Which clearly
marks the proper way,
My storm would
clear and settle down,
And I’d be
happy every-day.
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Space Trip
Beams of light,
Through the
night,
Weaving round
the stars.
I’ll catch one,
And then I’m
gone,
Arriving soon
on Mars.
How I feel,
This is not
real,
Red sand
revealing scars.
Scars of
strife,
This once was
life,
But now the
Earth is ours.
index
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Questions
Is there a
question in your head,
To be or not,
or to be dead?
No answers
come, all questions stay,
You’ll see
again a brand new day.
A brand new day
that starts out bright,
Completes a
stage before the night.
Close your mind
and look inside,
It’s here
you’ll find your second sight.
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The Gnome
He was waiting
for the rain to stop,
To leave the
bed of flowers alone,
Then piercing
shots from a golden gun,
Redeemed them
to full-bloom.
Basking in the
healing sun,
Predicting a
full moon,
He was sitting
on a toadstool,
Thinking he’s a
gnome.
This was not a
big deal though,
It had happened
twice before,
Both of them
near misses,
With results
that only bore.
But today a
change was on the cards,
The gnome could
clearly see,
If only he
could have some friends,
Then maybe he’d
feel free.
Free from the
isolation,
Which paints
his fairy-tale,
Of a small
stone story only he could read,
But never able
to share or sell.
A flash of
light then filled the air,
Big brown eyes
appeared to glow.
Beneath some
long and golden hair,
Another gnome
of sorts was here.
Now they can
sit together at last,
Watching the
flowers, they relax and bask,
In the rays of
the sun that have beaten the rain,
Hoping the rest
of the world feels the same.
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What Do I Have To Do?
I see the sun
but I don’t see you.
I hear the wind
but I don’t hear you.
What do I have
to do?
I feel the rain
but I don’t feel you.
I touch the
earth but I can’t touch you.
Tell me what
have I to do?
Can see the
sun?
Can you hear
the wind?
Can you feel
the rain?
Does the Earth
mean anything to you?
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The Princess' Meal
There was a
princess,
Wearing a blue
dress,
With a smile as
sweet as the sun.
She was
looking,
Whilst she was
cooking,
At the man on
the hill coming home.
The meat was
ready,
The vegetables
were done,
She arranged
them on two plates.
The man came
in,
Holding his
chin,
Looked at the
food and said ‘Great’.
They both sat
down,
And ate their
feast,
They were happy
to say the least.
Then he told
her,
He could not
leave her,
Because he
wanted a little piece,
Of her life,
Because she was
his wife,
But to him that
didn’t matter.
For he would
not tie her,
Instead they’d
confer,
As and when?
Probably later.
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The Transfer
Satin sheets
cover my stained bed.
Feather pillows
eat her head.
The virgin girl
has just bled.
A woman wakes
and swears she’s dead.
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Tangled Thoughts
I’ve always
known you will tell me when the time is right for answering my
questions about life, love and problems with thinking too much about
the kind of things which rock the boat drifting on a sea of souls
heading to the places of distant dreams about things you want to
know.
I’m here now
the time is right to answer my questions confuse the only talking
point to see such things that you and me are free to tell each other
whether good can rise from unknown places frighten me to run, to
flee, to hold you tightly, tighter, close, to be as one, to and walk
as one and talk as one I’ve always known.
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Please note that all words are © 2000-2002 SJ Waller . If you do feel the need to use them or take them or reproduce
them or do anything with them (apart from looking at) then please ask my
permission by using the e-mail form found on the menu.
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. the shorts . . . .
“Trips, hash
and 60’s rock,
I nearly forgot
why my room’s not so hot.
Let’s close the
window!”
“Twig on a
tree,
Remember me?
I’ve finally
come,
To set you
free."
“Now there’s a
surprise,
Above the
skies,
He listens to
our truthful lies
Don’t you ever
realise?”
“Tears and
screams are all for nothing,
Nothing stops
and no one cares.
Then you know
it’s all for nothing,
Nothing left,
just fear and prayers.”
“Don’t fall
asleep on me,
I need to make
you see,
It’s not that
I’ve lost love,
Just trying to
find enough.”
“Stormy night,
weather’s raging,
Too much drink,
too many strangers.
Feelings lost,
clouds arranging,
Outlines of my
bad behaviour.”
“Look up to the
sky and tell me how high?”
“A voice full
of hope is better than a voice which can’t cope.”
“Just imagine
how big really is!”
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