across the sky

 once she wrote my name across the sky       now she hates my guts     you have to wonder why       I didn’t ask         she didn’t say      we had different games to play      coz we had our moments         but they soon faded away     I found sanctuary in her arms       and she succumbed to my dubious charms         now I’m the man she loves to hate       my presence she won’t tolerate       she made me promises        she’d later deny       but once she wrote my name across the sky

letter to heaven

 I sent a letter to heaven     I hope it reached you there       it came straight from the heart        you are ever in my prayers       you know I miss you always              I feel you everywhere          I know that we will meet again         I can’t say when   or where      but if heaven is in my heart     I know we’ll never part       you will always be my friend          until the very end           

jesus says

 I’m alright with jesus       and jesus is alright with me         and everything is perfect       the way it’s meant to be     but I’m not the ringmaster     of this flea circus       I’m just a clown       pretending to be happy         pretending to be free       choking on coffin nails      and playing make believe     

I saw him once      or was it a dream?       it had to be a dream       but it seemed so real to me        he said the only difference        between heaven and hell       lies in the language of love       and the rhetoric of hate       there’d be peace in my heart       and I would be free     if I spoke as a child        the way he speaks to me         

fiction

life is not about finding yourself       it’s about creating yourself        coz we are fiction      all of us      just actors on a stage     yes, when you deep it you realise      we are all entertainers       penny ante actors        in some dismal third rate play        some of us are villains        some are victims         some are star struck lovers       others tragic heroes       it takes actors of all casts         to tell the human story        in this rainbow of chaos      we are never short of fictions    fictions are  abundant and  beautiful    but I wonder if we gave up the  freedom is to be what we really are    have we traded in our reality for a role      did we give up our ability to feel in exchange, for a mask

 

holding up the sky

we were not born to toil      to eat     to sleep   and die          there must be more to life       than consumer goods       and cut price holiday flights      in the old days       there were old ways     and we held the spirit     close to our ancient hearts        and the world was young       and we were strong     and our prayers held up the sky

but now  the world is tired      and she groans  in protest    from her arthritic bones      and we make promises      that test our reason      and find us wanting      and leave us cold and lonely      our dreams have become dangerous things       but we never wonder why

and in our days        we know our numbers       and they add up      to big fat zeroes      and we all know that it doesn’t matter       because nothing really matters        from the bottom of the ocean      to the high on himalayans      there is such thing as truth      and our arms are aching now      from holding up the sky