Man's love of money...
I love it too. It results in
Food, drink and shelter
For my loved ones. But...
On days when my back
Won't straighten properly,
When my carpenter's elbow, rugby
Knee and boxer's hands
Impair me
I ask myself
How many hours I've worked
To pay just
Interest.
How many banker's cigars
And Department of Finances-
*****-ups I've
Funded with
What's left of these knots of
Muscle and bone that
Are moving towards giving
Up the guitar.
Haven't owned a new one
Since '94 anyway.

So if what I've heard is correct,  
Five percent
Of the world's population
Earn ninety percent of all
Money made.

Somebody very high up
Should be fired.
When I'm dead
I'll ask to see
The books.

Such shame
Yet
Beauty in how
Well
You see it all
Fitting together
When the
Whole
No longer
Holds,
And breaks


A pa  r t.

Within me you found
A home that welcomed
Every bit of pain,
Every bit of dry,
Dark stained rose,
And drank from the cup of
Melancholy with content
But I am not stoic

The honey laced lies which
Escaped
Your bitter mouth found
Refuge in me,
And still I,
I foolishly gave you my all

Your hands are barb wired
That you can't touch without
Making me bleed,
What's love without pain?
Snow white sclera perfected
By a black dot runs after
My dreams evey **** day
You'd think you'd at least
Have the decency to leave
My dreams the hell alone

Your love doesn't gratify,
At least not like it used to
Apologies don't grate faults
No matter how much you
Adorn them with excuses

my soul has
grown tired
and functioning
has become hard
I'm like a broken
machine
i can function
but i can't do it
right
its broken
the memories of you and i
and when the memories broke
the machine did
now if you didn't understand,
the machine is a metaphor,
and that metaphor,
is me.
i am
the machine.
i am
the metaphor.




m.g.

It is a rainy evening.
The tires on the car aren't
New.
I won't use my phone; you're
Driving.
You should have been home.
Not yet late enough for me to
Allow myself to worry properly,
But I stand by the window for
One tenth-of-a-second
With the feeling of a toddler
That suddenly realizes
As the sun sets between trees
That it cannot hear their
Voices any more.
At all.

Plenty of memories
And
Someday I will learn
To let go