Did you poison my brain
Was it your wish I go insane
All along your desire
While my skin burned
Lit on fire
While my lips bleed
Never ending need
To hear your voice
To catch your smile
There's not a net big enough to capture you

I'm not ashame
To say "I am weak".
If I considered myself strong
That's only to make people think
I fought my battles
single handedly.
That would absolutely be a lie.
Because honestly "I am weak",
And I fall and cry.

I find comfort and peace
in knowing that
There is someone
fighting my battles beside me.
My weakness is not my enemy,
But it makes me realise
That I am in need
of a Saviour,
And His strength
is made perfect in my
Weakness.

The distant, haunting trumpet sound
Peace came just like a dove
The fading of darkened clouds
Rescuing souls from war and blood.

No more we hear the country's call
We are heading home to those we love
No more we see our comrades fall
A welcomed hope from heaven above.

Those scars will never leave our minds
Here to stay and leaving their mark
Wounds they say will heal in time
How do we begin? Where do we start?

Very soon we'll be heading home
Away from those killing fields
To all our families and those we love
With beer, wine and home made meals.

The future will be much brighter
The past will stay in the past
No more fear of guns and the wounded
Just happy days will be here at last.

So let's march along with that trumpet sound
And let's salute to that peaceful dove
Say farewell to where wars abound
Let's celebrate a world of love.

The world
       isn't all flowers,
sometimes petals
            are crushed underfoot.
we must learn to evolve.

We must learn
      never to be plucked,
and never let others collect
                            our petals..
We're stronger than that.

The world is a kind hostile place,
                 find your earth and grow strong.

mediocre and
faded
the average poem
no longer strikes chords
in the heart's harp
use extravagant vocabulary
weave your words tight
until they seem uncomfortable
the original meaning lost
between the claustrophobic corners
covered in lace and pretentious boasting
try but don't try so hard
that no one but the classic readers
would be able to understand
the words you've worked so hard to convey
do not force a poem out
or it will stick your fingers and
it will create a mess
similar to a teenage boy
it will be long and uncomfortable with itself
unknowing of how to adjust
into this thing that is supposed to be
mature now despite wanting to be simple
do not rush poetry
find quiet inspiration
in silent observations
of yourself, of nature
rushing poetry makes it fast
too many unfilled thoughts
racing around in one space
not meeting each other
despite being so close together
tell a story with imagery
with delicate words of morality
tell a story with flashbacks
with soft lips and with stained shirts
tell a story with love
make your poems with care

Never have i lived to cherish
a bloosoming flower nor
never have i found one
to begin with.

Never have i been cherished
for people only see my dying
roots nor
never have i reach my full
growth,
i remain the
sapling who have
been judge too
      many to count.

Never have i want to reach
the losing end
a certain limit
So near, i fear.....