A Right Brain Mind in a Left Brain World Read online

  We ask again and again six times now

  And the reply has been so harsh and we ask

  but still you tell us nothing I will beat

  you at your game I promise I will ask again

  And I do they send you I hardly dare

  to believe and again they womb replies

  I set her free for she is of this world

  But I am greedy and ask again but as before

  the womb replies to soon why oh why I need to know

  Where do they go I ask for I promise I won't ask again

  and one night you whisper in my ear

  I am here we are with you all the while

  Don't you know we walk beside you we hold your hand

  We sing your song and wipe your tears

  We are the gaurdians of you and those who stayed

  We are the seven who could not stay we are not of your world

  but you are of ours

  ONE LIFE'S DREAM

  IS ANOTHER LIFE'S NIGHTMARE

  One life’s dream is another life’s nightmare

  I walk along the path of fire

  Self destruct less I expire

  Moving ever closer to my goal

  I think I may now lose my soul

  For now there is no turning back

  Am I really on this track

  There is no one to cancel out

  The fight that flames within my heart

  For I have left you now alone

  Not caring, not thinking of your loss

  That it is now to be your cross or burden

  To carry now upon your backs

  What does it take to open eyes

  Transmission entry to the brain

  Less they abstain

  I tried and tried but failed now died

  The D’s and E’s are in the breeze

  Science, math and geography

  All now just histories message

  I wanted life, you wanted more

  So once again the F for failed

  But what of the onslaught

  No one to hear rant or ravings

  Who to call a failure now

  What was the dream you saw

  What was it, that made every waken hour

  A lecture, head thrust into a book a grind

  What did you perceive for me

  I, who was to be your trophy, your story of triumph

  The ghost of your life’s past today becomes the ghost of your future

  RAMBLINGS

  Down the darken days and dreary nights

  While I waited and listened

  Was it wasteful and wilful for want

  But if I tried I could not stop

  You were there in the dark resis of my mind

  Forever lingering wishing

  Now I pray it stop I know

  The time has finally come

  You are no more the last nail

  has been sent into that timber box

  Your home now my prison

  Once there was hope faint but hope

  How I wish there was a last nail for me

  Maybe then my mind would settle

  And stop this rambling

  Down the darken days and dreary nights

  THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

  It whispers quietly

  In a corner all alone

  Never lifting its head

  Never taking the tread

  But it hangs in the air

  Its stale pungent smell

  Stinging our eyes

  And choking our throats

  And gasping for air

  We felt its hand dealt

  A blow quick and hard

  As a mouse in a trap

  We are none the wiser

  Aware things are different

  But not asking for change

  It will be another day

  With out me

  It’s the circle of life

  SHADOW OF DREAMS

  In the twilight hour I sit

  Here in the shadow of dreams

  As they drift off into the seams

  of witching hour

  For what am I but mortal

  No cape of steel nor mask to hide

  This the place where demons side

  The hour in which they come to stay

  And hunt and haunt without my say

  I pray the hour to move on soon

  So I can leave this tiny room

  To start the day afresh

  Without the fear of groan and moans

  That leave me shaking to my bones

  But time it plays around

  And dawn cannot be found

  So I must sit and wait as bait

  But then I blink and I'm awake

  Now shadows of the twilight zone

  Have left to roam another home

  THE STORM

  Thunder electrifying

  Heat intensifying

  Pounding to a beat

  Sweat down to your feet

  Clash bang it strikes again

  Just as you think it’s over

  As you scramble to your feet

  The sky it bursts a chorus

  Like a Jungle drum that is porous

  As it amplifies its sound

  Like a hound it goes to ground

  Then a mighty crack it strikes

  As the heavens open up the sky

  Now deluge of rain pour down

  Until the clouds then blow on by

  It’s time to breathe again

  You put your hand in mine

  Our fingers intertwine

  This the storm we have weathered

  YOUR TIME WILL COME

  Pushed against the wall

  Eyes are closed

  With a blindfold

  Hands are tied

  Perspiration runs

  You can smell fear

  You can almost taste it

  It reminds you of a bad meal

  Something you would discard

  Without taught or feeling

  Now it is only feeling

  Every hair on your body

  Stands to attention

  Come on you think

  Get this over with now

  You have the power

  Take your best shot

  But for a moment

  I can smell your fear

  Taste it in my mouth

  So go on shout

  Today might be my day

  But yours is yet to come

  WE SALUTE YOU

  War torn Cradles

  Many fall

  Senseless reasons

  Media sensationalize

  Gung ho attitude

  No Gradation

  For a war torn Nation

  A lot of sentimentality

  For a community

  But no compensation

  For this there graduation

  We salute you Soldier

  Father Brother Mother

  Wife Son and Daughter

  THIS DECEIT

  The eyes of a cobra watching me

  Silently loathing my very being

  Slithering sullen and vile

  Hissing and wishing me nearer

  Nearer death then I a feast

  Reward I see my reflection

  As the amber in those eyes spit fire

  Fangs of might of sleepless night

  Return to haunt

  Leaving me gaunt and shaken

  As swirls and twirls of movement

  Hypnotic a flow it seems

  A reprieve it comes with dawn

  As I wish my lover gone

  This deceit is not for me

  Not with the cobra watching me

  THE SWINE

  He sweep in invaded every pore every cell

  He was the hand pulling me down

  As fever raged with head pounding

  Bile came to the fore acid burning its vital organ

  As I wonder in and out of life

  What
was real and what was not

  He tried to fool me while leading me in to another vortex

  And down into another darkness I descend

  The voices come and go

  While the vermin try to nibble at my feet

  I scream I think for pity sake help me

  And then the blackness comes a comfort

  The fever takes it's pitch again

  And I long for the coolness

  I feel my limbs move

  But it’s not me I want to shout

  You've turned a corner, I hear someone say

  What corner, where am I

  The darkness takes me once more

  I see light and I smile

  There you are says a smiling face

  That swine didn't get you after all

  FREE

  If I had a wish

  I would wish to be free.

  Free from the chain that forever holds me

  Free from the drugs, the bugs

  and the medical thugs.

  Free from the pain, to never complain.

  Free not to fear all you hold dear.

  Free to live a simple life, be a good wife.

  Not always under the knife.

  Free to be...

  Just me.

  I Wish!

  THE WAITING GAME

  She lays there staring out the window, how could her life have come to this? Having to wait for someone to come and turn her, to keep the bed sores at bay or wash the wasted muscle and bone that is her body. Her thinning hair, hallow cheek bones and black eye sockets, she has seen better looking corpses. And all of this through no fault of her own, well so she likes to believe, maybe she should have tried to stop taking the medication years ago.

  Not now...not now that she is on the flat of her back her body powerless. Waiting for some god forsaken nurse to sit her on a cold bed pan or catharsizes her to relieve her bladder. Another failed bodily function, another one of life’s little jokes but only at her expense. As bad as things were before, they are even worse now, this tome that she is now encased in, these four walls are all she sees’s day in and day out.

  Her twisted spine crying out for help, but there’s none to come not anymore. Having lived the last fourteen years on this morphine drug her body now refuses its aid. So she lies there powerless as every fibre, tendon and bone screams at her for help. How or when will it stop? Please she begs them, do something. There is nothing left to do but play the waiting game. Now she waits for death, she is sure it will come soon, it must come soon.

  She wants to close her eyes and never wake, just let the blackness envelope around her take her away, free her from the pain shut the door on it. She prays for it has asked every saint for it; rather to linger like this. A nothingness as it surely can’t be called a life. She is sure of more compassion in the morgue and she would willingly go there now...

  THE DRAWERS OF LIFE

  Dusting down the drawers of life

  The cobwebs mingle with the lining

  Moth-balls heavy scent choking the stale air

  Each drawer leading to my life's pain

  Some creek and crack

  Others in need of repair

  Some beyond life's expections

  But they are all just holding it together

  The contents of my soul

  Folded neatly into each drawer

  I wonder as often before

  Should I give in and find another

  A newer finer piece maybe

  But I know I could never for

  I love this old piece for all its faults

  DISAPPOINTMENT

  The smile wiped off my face

  But it's no disgrace

  I believed in you

  It was too good to be true

  You reeled me in to play

  Now how I hate this day

  I thought I’d found a friend

  But you just drove me round the bend

  I answered to your call

  I thought I'd have a ball

  I wish we never met

  I feel like someone's pet

  But now it's time to see

  Who will be the one to flee

  I've questioned your charade

  So let’s see how you evade

  Now it's time for me to see

  Who you are trying to be

  Your friends tell me you’re bad

  But I just think you’re sad

  LIFE GAMES

  Life Games

  To have played the game

  To have set the tone

  To have dreamed the dream

  To have been the best

  To have sang the song

  To have danced the dance

  To have hit the top

  To have played the part

  To have written the script

  To have lived the dream

  To have lost it all

  To have died a death

  To have said the prayers

  To have closed the lid

  To have wept and cried

  To be remembered

  GUNGE

  Mirror

  Refection

  Profile

  Lips

  Gums

  Enamel

  Corrosion.

  Brush, Brush

  Stains of life

  Tough

  Fungus

  Scrap, scrap

  Wash, whish

  Spit

  Profile

  Reflection

  Mirror

  THE DREAM

  The dream is to be the best writer one can be.

  But alas I fall short the memory is just not there

  All these words floating around in my head.

  Waiting to jump from there onto the battle field

  In the army's rush I lose some of my soldiers.

  And some that I do get through

  They are either injured or severally disjointed

  The people criticize asking why I insist in carrying on

  I tell them I will fight for what I believe in

  I will carry on if not for me

  I will do it for them the others

  So dogged down by this so scared

  Why must we be made to feel inferior

  It is our make up who we are

  What we are to become

  Many like us have become world leaders

  But sadly they are silenced

  So it leaves little hope I feel I have won a war of sorts

  I will not let my comrades down

  But I refused to work by this companys rules

  My ink will be that of the injured and wounded

  I will not defer from this

  And if I am beat so be it

  After all it is my head that will roll

  My only hope is it will filter through

  There are those few who may awake and see the light

  Then I will have felt victoress in my attempt.

  The war of injured words will not have been in vain

  UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

  He looks at me with eyes of scorn

  He lets me see his disappointment

  Why take on ideas profound

  Why not wait be patient

  Not listening forging forward

  Anything to save her

  Now anything to bring her back

  No it's not possible this time

  This was a war we could not win

  Holding hands around a table

  Now there is a small light

  Bitter but not desponded

  Now we are back to reality

  Tears are flowing the process begins

  Each step one to twelve

  I count with bated breath

  But the light shines brighter

  Your eyes bright and alert

  And I see the hope for me

  You tried so hard to find me

  In my lost state you stayed and held my hand

  As I grieved
for an Angel

  Remember sweetie to sing a verse for me

  So until we meet again farewell

  TO FIND THE ONE

  Another night of shit weather, Tommy Dunne thinks as he parks his Honda CBR Motorbike in the parking lot of Finnegan’s Bar. But someone, it seems, has beaten him to his spot under some trees. Now there, sitting in his space, is a black Honda Hornet. It’s just as well he wore his rain gear tonight. Otherwise he would look dreadful on stage later. It certainly won’t do his image any good with the birds if he is up there singing looking like a drowned rat now will it. Tommy never misses a Saturday night karaoke at Finnegan’s if he can help it.

  Of course, in the summer months it can be a bit difficult as most of the motorbike rallies are held over a weekend. Tommy wouldn’t miss a bike rally even if it was to save his life. It is somewhere he can talk none stop about his beloved bike. For hours with likeminded souls like himself. And it keeps him up to date on all the latest gadgets that are available to help with the performance of the bike. His latest accessory is his carbon filter exhaust pipes which he has just fitted to the bike that morning.

  It is an easy enough job for Tommy, being a mechanic and all, or a grease monkey as he likes to call himself. But when you have your nosy next door neighbour hanging over the fence giving you advice of which he knows nothing about, it can be a pain in the ass. Especially when the said neighbour doesn’t have the faintest clue about mechanics. Of course, owning a Harley Davidson, Tommy supposes this is what gives the guy ideas about himself.

  I mean, the only time you see Frank out on the bike is when the sun shines and let’s face it, those days are far and few between. Tommy would guarantee that the hardly driven bike has never seen a drop of rain. Now, polish, that’s a different thing. The guy is obsessed with polishing it. It must drive his poor wife nuts. How Frank ever ended up with such a sweet girl like Sarah, Tommy will never know. But if Frank ‘Suits’ Maguire, as Tommy calls him, can find a girl surely there is hope for him too.

  I mean, Tommy feels, he isn’t a bad looking guy. Okay so he is bald and has been since he was about twenty one. But now at thirty five he feels it suits him well enough. Apart from his lack of hair, he is good looking. He is a good five foot nine inches in height with a good strong chin, eye’s not to far apart a straight nose, well almost straight. And most important no belly pouch. There is nothing worse, Tommy feels, than to see a fella in an allin-one leather bike suit with a bulge sticking out in the middle. He dresses well. The casual look is what he calls his Wrangler navy cords, a blue check shirt and a navy sweater topped with his black leather bike jacket.