Friday, 31 August 2012

The Old Bus Stop

Life stands still at the old bus stop
where the gangs roam free, no police
the cops
too scared to go
there with them, the scavengers, thieves
and the whores with men

Don’t dare to go, leave them be, they can fend
for themselves
if they die
who will see, not them, or you
not me, will see
they are nothing

Tattooed bodies roam the streets
with guns, and drugs
giving out sweets
to seduce the young, give them a gun
they are theirs
they are part of the gang, to die, perhaps
to die with a bang, however they die
who will give a damn
they were just another
one of a gang

See the graffiti adorning the walls, of the old bus stop
in the middle of wars
of rivals
and thugs, with their knives
they mug
the innocent few
who never knew, not to go after dark
or before the lark

to the old bus stop ~ just next to the park

Copyright © 2011 by Mike Sutcliffe

Friday, 10 August 2012

A Complicated Man

There are too many halves to make just one whole,
they fight for supremacy, they tear at my soul,
for the right to be free, to escape from within,
to be the dominant one, the one that must win,

There is carefree and happy, so light in its mood,
mixed with laughter and joy bringing all that is good.
Then there is thoughtful ~ it is deep and sad,
raising anger and fury, it is boiling and mad.

Still there is more dwelling deep down inside,
there is love and romance which so often hides.
Not ruthless and cold with the harshest of stares,
that is daring and bold, it never really cares.

Which one today, that is out of my hands,
it was once said to me that I am a complicated man.

Copyright © 2012 by Mike Sutcliffe