Ghost
I walk around beside you
but you don't even see,
too blinded by yourself
for your ego to conceive,
that others have problems
and things going on,
am I the ghost or you
maybe neither here belong,
I listen as you talk
but you never hear me speak,
you don't care about my anguish
only yours is what should peak,
it's a privilege for me to know you
at least thats how you perceive my life,
I'm a ghost who can only listen
there's only you in your life,
Glove
it's not easy being the man you want me to be,
or the father you swear blind I'm not,
I find it more difficult than I can say,
to be the salvation or your dwindling crop,
you cause me to mentally dither and doubt,
could it be she's correct and I'm a fool,
I can't be sure if I'm the glove or the hand,
but one is in charge and the others a tool,
that love she gives
she spends every penny I have on useless tat,
and then complains we've got no money,
won't listen to a word of sense,
when someone else is making her honey,
she boils you down to a fine stew,
and stirs you with her knife,
that double sided tongue she owns,
knows how to be precise,
she'll own you with a look,
she'll kill you with a word,
she's nothing if not unkind,
and your pleas aren't ever heard,
she takes what you need
asks your frown until it's sore,
she give you nothing but disregard
disrespect and more,
she steps on all your nerves
her heel twists into your soul,
and as you lie there dying
she'll make you beg for more,
she'll own you with a look,
she'll kill you with a word,
she's nothing if not unkind,
and your pleas aren't ever heard,
she's never there when I need her
she's always somewhere else,
she never gives me the love I need
it's squandered somewhere else,
and I can't help but wonder
if there's much that I can do,
this garden once was thriving here
and now just weeds come through,
she'll own me with a look,
she'll kill me with a word,
she's nothing if not unkind,
and your pleas aren't ever heard,
I hope for better times to shine
I hope for warmer days,
as winters fallen on my house
and took the summers haze,
and I know I may sound whiny
or querulous and pained,
but that love she gives is empty
and it's all that will prevail,
she's owned me with a look,
she's killed me with a word,
she's the epitome of the word unkind,
please and thank you are just herbs,
the hierarchy of pigeons
the sound of fluttering wings,
hits my nerves with a stark surprise,
the pigeons are back in my back garden,
behind the window nets I'm in disguise,
and I watch them as their usual parade,
spans the sprawl of green and paved congregation,
with a smile I watch them pick the bread and swallow,
I don't know why but it fills me with elation,
then comes the psycho pigeon,
he flies alone and takes what he desires,
the other birds try to guard their quarry,
but their attempts his tenacity belies,
there's an obvious hierarchy at work here,
the same as any place we humans go,
the biggest and most aggressive get the most,
until the smallest and meekest overthrow,
Smiling nod
I don't hold faith in a world of yes-men,
such sycophants drop the breadcrumbs just for themselves,
ardent zealotry means very little to me,
zealots follow blindly so zealous jealousy has them shelved,
and I can see that idea course through your blood,
you think it a natural phase but beware,
a glass is never half full if it's empty,
these things are softly staged to confuse and ensnare,
Kickboard
It's no surprise
I should have known
the creaks were mine
I'm your kickboard
moments of sadness
safety oh the allure
I'm still a kickboard
booted when you feel sore
that grass isn't green
nor is it even a lawn
expletives kiss obscene
while my soul you pawn
I'm starting to crack
weathered and absorbed
I'm just a kickboard
I'm now folklore
how many times
will my words of woe fall
when charisma bellows
and sanctimony caws
I saught after love
and got only regret
I'm just your kickboard
I give to beget
if love was a wasp
you'd dress it in black
punish it's nature
as its tenacity you lack
but a wasp in no bee
and no honey it makes
I'm just your kickboard
but your honey is fake
Cold therapy
I don't know
maybe some things we both lack,
sirens squealing
shadows front and behind the back,
lights paint the distance
we never thought they'd show us anything,
yet here we are cold
removed from all the frigid symphonies,
fist bump greetings
now reduced to an illiterate landscape,
peace of mind slow
as the world chokes on worry and vapes,
cold mute therapy
that's all I asked and all I was worth to you,
a terrible propensity
we became what the hope had failed to know,
Old friends
in a heartless manoeuvre
I sacrificed all made,
without love or affection
nor sympathy just shade,
we had a special bond
it was a standard we felt,
I loved - you only fond
we shared the rains pelt,
time removed the skin
and all is broken hands,
that raced about the face
of your delicate sham,
so fierce was betrayal
loves shoulders drooped,
now I'm left alone in grey
but you're the one duped?
Maybe a little
It was a small smile,
but I know you recognized me,
just two small glances,
then a head down turning grin,
I saw you immediately,
how could I not notice that walk,
the one that filled lust to it's burst,
before and still after the words we spoke,
so you're being showed round,
it looks like you're going to be working here,
and I'll keep silent about our past,
and you know my hearts sincere,
but it was nice to see your eyes again,
even if only at an uncomfortable distance,
we were always each others magnet,
so let's hope we have some resistance,