The humble pen

 

It can solve equations,

unite,

and divide nations.

It can bring hope and elation,

or hurt and deflation.

It can talk of love,

in words you fear to speak.

It can create worlds

you have longed to seek.

It can sketch out your dreams,

or draw on your inspiration

creating new scenes.

It can give music

the message it needs to speak.

In songs it can make us dance,

feeling the universe joining in

leaving us entranced.

 

The humble pen,

a magical item,

seems like nothing,

but combine it with

a mind that's open,

and it's a magic wand,

illuminating

the hidden messages

that the universe hides

in the eternal sands.

 

It can right wrongs,

inspire lives to take

pathways into light,

instead of seeking solace

in the darkest nights.

It can give smiles,

laughter, joy and more.

It can highlight our strengths.

Help us to repair our flawed thoughts.

It can fill us with strength

to climb up

when knocked down on the floor.

The humble pen

could stop any war,

with just a squiggled line.

 

The humble pen

could bring peace,

underlined, signed and italicised.

We could all be free.

The humble pen

could feed a million

if it was held

by different men.

The humble pen

will always keep

our stories safe,

it will listen like our best friend,

it will know of the love that sits

in the hearts of men,

and it will help them

to find the strength

to share that love with everyone.

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff


You can find my New book
"Tales from the 44A"
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/

Please buy a copy to help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle

 

 

Fangs out

 

Fangs for the memories,

the blood-stained seas

that torment me.

The torrential hail

that tries to impale

my thoughts, like a stake

to the heart. I take

them all with me, as I depart.

A foggy mist over the view.

Blink and you'll miss me

waving through.

 

But then there are always them,

the ones that bring endless pain.

They can't let me be, they want to stain

the night with my name, and drain

my life of what it means to be me.

Hammering nails

into my coffin lid,

before darkness leaks in.

To stop me from

walking the streets

I was born within.

 

I usually take it all on the chin,

like a droplet of blood

after a night feasting,

But I'm feeling

like I'm being mistreated.

Just for being different in my skin.

This isn't the way

this world should see.

We are all a part

of its grand story.

So maybe,

try to understand

That we all have a right to be.

 

So, fangs but no fangs

if I don't shake your hand.

I've just washed mine,

and I don't want them

contaminating.

Hatred has no place on these shores.

Difference, we should applaud.

Just because we don't walk

the same story as yours,

doesn't make our story

any less worthy of applause.

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff


You can find my New book
"Tales from the 44A"
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/

Please buy a copy to help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle

 

Time bank

 

Time is valuable

we say as we watch

it all fritter away, just numbers

flowing on a screen.

Another man-made fantasy.

A dream within a dream

of a nightmare with vicious teeth.

Time is money, oh great,

so, it is just another man made

device to enslave?

 

If time is so precious

why do we give so much?

8 hours a day 5 days a week,

and that's without travel, lunch

or being pressured into overtime.

We have targets to meet

they always bleat,

but instead of hiring extra hands,

they work you till your dead

on your feet.

 

Then when work

has been left for the day,

What remains is all ours,

they say…

But is it really?

We have so many duties,

that take up our own time.

People chip away at our time reserves

until you end up owing them

an hour or two in return.

As your time bank

sits miserably in the red

and the debt

has you stumbling around

like one of the walking dead.

 

We are too tired

to even exist.

So, we watch it sift

like flour through a sieve.

Or is that an hourglass

counting down the sands of time

we have left to live?

Blindly watching the programming,

trying to make you give more.

Those hands are ticking closer now

What more can we give?

Honestly, I'm no longer sure.

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff


You can find my New book
"Tales from the 44A"
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/

Please buy a copy to help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle