Black and Red

The Rage is RED within me, the night is black outside,

Black and red, alive but dead, the fire will not subside,

Red rage for what they did to us, the hand which we were dealt,
But the outlook’s black as we’ve sat back, not stood up for ourself,
We complain we’ve mistreated, misguided and mislead,
But we’ve misunderstood and missed the good to focus on the dread,
When the silver spoons were handed out we must have missed the call,
Now you sit and quit, while I stand and demand my chance to have it all,
Future black like chalk boards dark as winter nights,
But blood of red pumps heart to head, to fuel my search for light,
My past is filled with darkness, finances in the red,
But I’ll survive, drive, thrive and light the way ahead,
Black and red, black and red, the whole of this preamble,
Could bear resemblance to a roulette table, because life is just a gamble,
But even when the odds are stacked and chances look so bleak,
I’ll take all I own, stand alone and bet it all on me!

What is Poetry?

Poetry is truth, it is freedom and expression,
It’s a lie, it’s a cage, it’s aggression and suppression,
But these two lines are different, how can it be both?
Because poetry can only be controlled by those who’ve wrote,
If your poetry is an outlet, and you fill the page with truths,
Then you may find that poetry releases and it soothes,
But fill you page with wonder, that your imagination makes,
And you may find a pen and pad allows you to escape,
Poetry has many forms, you can write it, you can speak,
Or jump behind a microphone and spit it to a beat,
Poems can be for anything, how you feel, what you saw,
To tell someone you love them, or protests against war,
You can write when sad or happy, when bored or when excited,
There are no limits just go with it, think it and then write it,
You’re Davinci with the brush, Lewis Hamilton at the wheel,
Drive that pen, create your art see how good it feels.


Toys is what he calls them,

And so many toys he owns,
He will play with others people’s toys,
As much as with his own,
More neglecter than collector,
He won’t leave them alone,
The box is thrown they have no home,
He plays until they’re broke,
Boxless beings bent and bashed,
At the mercy of his will,
Left loveless limp and lifeless,
If he was kinder he would kill,
They allow themselves to be chewed up,
Spit out in winter fog,
But I guess you must expect neglect,
You’re a bone and he’s a dog!

Double Chocolate Muffin

“No thank you, I’m fine” I said to him politely,
Now he waves these biscuits in my face, it irritates me slightly,
And I have no beef with biscuits, I like them very much,
But since my diagnoses of diabetes I guess we just lost touch,
now my old friend calls to me, I must ignore the shout,
The doctor said you can end up dead if you put that in your mouth,
If It is sweet you must not eat as it may taste great tonight,
But it will lead to amputated feet for you in later life,
I take that warning with a pinch of salt not because I didn’t care,
I just used to take a pinch of sugar but now I’m way to scared,
A life filled with injections fighting natural selection,
And now my so-called mate wants to offer cakes and damn what a selection,
Flavoursome, frosted and filled they frustrate while I fixate,
And my heart beats for something sweat, my head begins to ache,
My anxiety is now clear to see, I’m huffing and I’m puffing,
And in the end I just scream arrgghh! I’ll have a double chocolate muffin.

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