The man’s an outsider,
The man’s a crank.
He’s not one of us
So let’s close ranks.
Crank up the rhetoric,
Crank up the lies.
Hes not one of us
He’ll be ostracized.
The man’s an outsider
The man’s a crank
Crank up the rhetoric
And shove him aside.
via Crank
A response to the Daily Prompt
The sea went out. I missed the tide.
I’m stranded, abandoned, left on shore.
My dreams, ambitions all denied.
The sea went out I missed the tide
Like flotsam, jetsam cast aside;
My hopes are dashed, I’m feeling sore.
The sea went out. I missed the tide.
Stranded, abandoned, left on shore.
The tide goes out but will come in
The waves will touch my feet again.
I’ll feel their splash against my skin.
The tide goes out but will come in.
Chances return though odds seem slim.
I’ll be prepared; be ready then.
The tide goes out but will come in.
The waves will touch my feet again.
My song’s not an air, not a chant or a ditty
Not an: aria, canticle, ballad or hymn.
It’s simply these lines that keep running in my head,
Make me hum, tap my fingers, before long have to sing.
It’s nothing too grand, it might not make you cry.
Not a poem, not a hymn, not a psalm or lullaby
It doesn’t have great lyrics; it barely has a tune
But it’s a song to sing along to so just give it a try.
Songs can raise the spirits, songs can bring you down.
Here’s no rousing anthem, not much melody.
But once you start to sing it; it’ll carry you along
And your friends will all join in before too long.
And your friends will all join in before too long.
via Song
A response to the Daily Prompt
He meant to be both good and true.
But where he was was who he’d be
He would not wish to lie to you.
He thought he knew just who to be
Yet acted inconsistently.
He’d different faces, different lives.
His life so lacked integrity
That all the lives he lived were lies;
Not really sure of who he was.
Or who it was he meant to be.
A face for faces that he met
He was not whole, he was not free.
He couldn’t be true, would often forget
What he was for and who he was.
He couldn’t live authentically.
He hid himself afraid they’d see.
The self he’d hidden deep inside.
His hidden vulnerability.
He could not show them who he was.
Something deep inside had died.
Morgue-file photo by vickiayala
Once we were legion, now we’re depleted.
So few of us now; we used to be more.
There’s me and my brothers, a few others too
Not sure about some of them; not sure of you!
Surrounded, depleted, outnumbered too few
Our ranks are diminished, whose with us, are you?
Do you stand where you once did? Do you stand with us now?
Our numbers depleted, we sorely need you.
Certainties questioned, the things we once knew,
We’re down to the hard core, the core chosen few.
Rally the ranks, stay true to the cause
it may be a lost cause but surely it’s yours?
via Deplete
We hate chemical warfare
Dropping the wrong kind of bombs.
We’re taking retaliatory action
Because chemical bombing is wrong.
Our smart bombs will all hit their target
Make sure no civilians are hurt
But if we hit any women or children
At least they’re the right kind of bombs?
We still sell conventional weapons
We don’t care who they’re sold too
We hope they won’t kill any children
Though the ‘right kind’ of bombs sometimes do.
There’s plenty other pebbles
Plenty in the sea
Plenty other pebbles
Plenty on the beach.
Round and smooth and shiny
Washed up on the shore
Hear the clink of pebbles.
Washed along the beach.
Choose a shiny pebble
Choose it from the beach
Smooth and shiny pebble
Warm against your skin.
Pebbles clink together
So smooth and round and trim.
They rub along together
Pebbles on a beach.
Choose your favourite pebble
Cherish it a while
Choose your favourite pebble
Best one on the beach.
There’s plenty other pebbles
Plenty on the beach
Spot another pebble
Choose the one to ditch.
You skim me cross the water
You skim me cross the sea
There’s plenty other pebbles
That’s the end of me.
There’s plenty other pebbles
Plenty in the sea
Plenty other pebbles
That’s the end of me.
There’s no chance I’m going to buy that!
There isn’t a glimmer of hope.
You must think I’m some kind of idiot
Do you think I’m a fool or what?
There’s no chance I’ll ever believe you
Not the least glimmer of hope.
Tell me again that you mean it.
Don’t tell me lies; don’t be cruel.
I wish that I could believe it
See even a glimmer of truth
Maybe, just maybe you mean it
I’m starting to believe you a bit.
Just this once I’ll trust you
Hope there’s a glimmer of truth
I find it hard to believe you
But I’m clutching a glimmer of hope.
The first buds of spring were peeking,
The trees were still stark and unclothed.
There was something she was not telling,
A secret she hadn’t yet shared.
She hid her secret
She hid it well
She did not show.
He could not tell.
The first spring flowers were now blooming,
The trees overhead lightly clothed.
Something about her was changing;
A change that could not be ignored.
She’d started to show
And he could tell.
He knew what it was
Knew all too well.
Now nature in all of it’s glory
Burst forth neath a bright summer sky.
It was no longer a secret
So plain was the swell of her form.
He did not show
And sorry to tell
It seemed that the tale
Could not end well.
The trees were starting to colour
An autumnal nip in the wind.
The promises that he had once made her,
He was all too quick to rescind.
She’d started to show
It was easy to tell.
It was so plain to see
It would not end well.
You will disrupt what I’m doing!
You must break my train of thought.
You trample around my headspace
Crush me with size nine boots.
Constant your interruptions
I can’t get a moment’s peace
Mess me up with my thinking
Praying to be released.
Shame I can’t do without you
Need you to give me a kick
OK to interrupt me
But can it please be with
A kiss?
Andrew Green's Poems 