Category: Poems

Justice

First, there will be a whisper –
An echo that ripples through the air
Unnoticed, undetected, invisible.
But with time, with each passing day, its voice will grow –

Oh, will it grow:
Stronger, powerful, benevolent
And when it speaks, everything will still and listen and gaze upon its ultimate beauty
For it will be beautiful –
A majestic judgement to behold.

It will come.

It will come for the walls of oppression 
For tyranny’s every immorality 
It will come for the strengths of occupation
And all the terrors of humanity

Heed my call
For it will come.

They will silence you
Cut you
Kill you
Go to the ends of the earth to stop you

But remember, 
It will come.

But until it comes, gather the warriors
To wage the worthy war
Wielding words
We will silence them
Cut them 
Stop them.

And when the final trumpet blows
We will know –
And the sinners will know
That it has come.

Hear my call: Justice will come 
– and will always prevail.

Soho Square

The birds were the first to start the song,
filling the air with their sweet soprano.
Then came the cars, screeching in staccato
and all the people in different pitch and tempo

The men and women in their sharp suits 
enjoying the sun and their 3-pound salads,
whilst the workmen in hard hats and sleeves of tats
Rested on the green, dining on sushi.   

Lunch in London was a beautiful matter;
people local, foreign and far,
so different and akin as they stood
frozen in motion at that moment in time.

And slowly over time, the song strengthened in sound,
pulling all into its lively tune – 
‘Hi there, would you like a game of table tennis?’
‘Excuse me, is this seat taken?’

For this is the song of London life
rising above all odds and strife.
Stronger than before
and better than ever,

so when I look from my keyboard,
I smile at what I see.
For this is the heart of London, 
and as good as it’ll ever be.

The Unveiling

Reality has come a’knocking 
in the cold light of day
and those once painted Saints
Are all cast away.

The cards have collapsed
and the air tastes stale
all those who were once hailed
are heckled, jeered, jailed

So when the light is cast
and the shadows flushed out
the sinners are seen for what they are;
pale, pathetic, pockmarks on society – 

they have been seen
they have been measured
and found, completely wanting.

Welcome to The Unveiling.

Demons Within

They tell me to open up - to let them in so that they can help. 
But they won’t understand the pain I push through. The pain I try to forget. 

They don’t know of the wars I’ve waged, of the demons I battle, of the darkness that threatens to destroy me.
They don’t know of the terror I’ve endured, of the despair I feel, nor the innocence I mourn.
They don’t see my starless skies, the tremble in my words, the burden on my soul.

They tell me to open up - to let them in.
But they don’t understand that I can’t - that the horrors I hold to my heart, are mine and mine alone.

Mine to suffer. Mine to stand up to. And in time, mine to move on from.
Because whatever we go through, makes us stronger. 

They tell me to let them in so that they can help.
But don’t they understand that by just standing by me, they help keep me in the light?