The World is a Changing Place

Crinkled skin and cracked lips

Carved the face of a patient man.

A worn cardboard sign, hung around his travelled neck,

It read:

Time has passed me by and I have passed by it.

 

You could watch him for an hour

And while he seems painted by the past

The world walks by, falling, flowing and tumbling on:

Ready for the future, eager to move on.

 

He breathes, he sighs, he smells, he sees.

His senses are keen and have seen a hundred years

In the time it takes to smile.

 

But the time has come for him to walk;

The world is a changing place.

He breathes, he sighs, he smells, he sees.

But there is no time, no more.

 

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The Great Observers

Sometimes you have to take the observers
With a pinch of Sodium.

As their self-indulgent eloquence
licks the end of every word and their egos
Nurture the thoughts that precede them.

They can only take one step
In which direction
To say their own opinions.

They snort, they scoff and push
Until their sore insecurities
Have become a bully of their own making.

They’ve learnt to stare with
The steam of Smaug
Drifting from their nostrils.

Of course,
Their talk causes concern,
But not as much as our silence
Causes them.

Perspective

It is strange
How with so few
Different variations,
The whole Earth
Can shift around
And face you from
Yet one more direction.

As, when the sun is on your skin
You remember the cold as only thought
As if it had never really happened in any reality
But your own.

I have taken the same walk
– Step for step –
Three months apart,
And the only similarity was me.
And even I was only just.

It is a journey we are on; these lives of ours,
Each step along the paved and wild ways
Are more than enough proof
For any man, woman
Or child (who is older than their years).

Busi-ness

It is easy when you look at me to see a busy man
But the truth lies in between the constant flow
Of a non-stop calendar.
As a man distracted does not feel the pitfalls over which he stumbles.
As it is you who helps me find my feet
And let the circulation flow again
I can breathe and sigh and love
As we match each other’s steps
In the soft white sands of time.

You make me the man I am

I am not half the man
I am
Without you by my side.

Every moment’s echo is thrice-trebled
With the resounding knowledge
That when we bask in the warmth
Of each other’s loving presence
Every single passing second
Is a second shared
And a second cherished.

It has been a while since my aching heart
Has held your head in my hands;
Stroked your hair
And felt the gaze of your almond eyes,
But it is tonight we reunite
And I become Thrice-trebled the man I am right now once more.

A place to call our own

It has been a year since we set foot
In our humble abode
And we were brave enough to call a place
Our own.

And it is our place
For us to know and love.
Our first apartment
To revisit on some future date
When my wrinkles have
Been set, and moulded.

We’ve done our chores
And made our bed,
Watched countless episodes
And always come back to a loving home.

Yes, the shower goes cold after several minutes
And the washing machine door sometimes doesn’t open,
But not a day goes by when
I am not grateful to our younger selves
For finding a place
To call our own.

Redundancy

I used to play

To joke

To smile at jokes that someone once made.

I had a dry sense of humour

And I had many friends in the people I met in my day-to-day.

 

But once my cap and gown were safely packed away

And the next step in life was heading my way

I soon had to face the harsh light of reality

As wages had to be earned,

Egos had to be tolerated

And agendas – both known and unknown –

Pushed me through the plasticine mould that it saw fit for me.

 

And while I worked away, thinking

With only my aspirations, goals and dreams in minds

My voice was shrinking

My chest was tightening

And time was running out.

 

But my goal was there

And I knew what I had to do,

Or so I thought

As the days grew longer

And I grew ever critical of the smallest mistake

That no one would notice but me

And maybe my boss.

 

But my goal was still there, though ever smaller and dragging me on,

As I travelled upstream, seeking that final respite.

 

I was called into the board room shortly after 12.

I could see the sincerity in their faces,

I was just finishing a project.

 

As surreal as it was, I just remember exhaling.

I was free to explore at last.

My work, my life I could have it all back

No more toxic environment and endless tasks.

 

I could breathe. And most importantly, with my head held high.

 

I was made redundant at the beginning of March and have since worked hard to regain everything that gave colour to my life. I am now fully employed again, in an environment that I can live in. I have my weekends back, I am learning so many new skills and have learnt so many life lessons. This empty time on my blog has been the most important of my life and I hope to rekindle my passion for my writing and my connection with the blogosphere.
Happy Writing!