Constellations

  C andles unwaned are snuffed out too soon, O range glows fading to empty black; R are is the joy that pierces the gloom, O verwhelming is the anxiety of attack. N o one is safe now, there is no cocoon, A nd naught to do but cry alack.   C arnage, ceaseless and ghastly, fills our sight, O bituaries unwritten and tragedies untold crowd every hall; R aw terror and plain powerlessness smother all light O bscuring the future behind an unsurmountable wall; N othing in our new world seems truly bright, A s the abject fear and cold despair consumes us all.   C rowded streets are now bereft of souls, O nce thriving cities have become a grave; R arely do we peek out of our holes: O ur own houses that as cages enslave; N ever has the silence taken such tolls, A s the world drowns in a noisy wave.   C ries unheeded flit breathlessly through the salted air, O f the shore of the treacherous sea where we are; R iptides are common, abr...

It is the iron shackle that binds me   The chains from which  i  shall never be free    It is the shield that keeps me alive    The armour which lets me survive         It  cripples  me, brings me down    Clips my wings and takes my crown It strengthens  me, aids me fight Keeps me safe with all its might    It weighs me down, a burden unwanted    Stealing away the thoughts best warranted   It makes me react,  respond  fast   Ensures  each  breath  is not my last       It  clouds  my judgment, dulls my mind    All my plots and plans get left behind    It shows me more, my mind a wh irl     Preparing me for  the events the  unfurl   An illusion you call it, made by  my   brain   A chemical reaction, a mental strain    And yet so solid, so very real it seems...

On a morning like any other    With the ever-present  sun burning bright    I  woke to find myself in a world    Where nothing seemed  quite rig ht   Oh,  the birds still chirped in the trees    The fish had not sprouted wings    The dead still lay beneath the dirt    While  the living  did a  zillion  ordinary things    Oh,  the dear did not shoot the hunters    Homo sapie n s were still on the top   Two plus two did not become five   All technology did not spontaneously stop   Oh,  the earth was still as polluted as ever    The sky had not turned green    The clock still ticked merrily away   No impossible sights were seen   Yet it was a topsy   - turvy  world    Life seeme d to have  turned   upside-down     Things weren’t  the way they were meant  to  ...