All upon a sinking ship,
Water laps at our feet,
Rising, rising, rising.
We are all drowning.
We are all drowning.
I don’t want for just anyone.
I want for us all,
Contentedness and stability,
Happiness, however big or small.
I want for experience,
Whether it bad or good.
Mistakes of our own doing,
And as so we should.
I want for understanding,
That I hope will be shared.
So no one feels alone,
When lonely or scared.
I want for blissful peace,
And sweet harmony.
So we support and consolidate,
One another, so artlessly.
Normally I don’t write about political things, but this is something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest. This has remained unfinished and I don’t know how I feel about it, but here it is.
Bald headed animals bang at their breasts,
Against riot police, clad in their vests,
And The town is in a state of civil unrest.
A tattooed man with his menacing face,
Begins to preach hatred to each and every race,
Believing it’s his right because of his birthplace.
And he speaks of and upholds the Nazi regime,
His benighted minions, they shout and they scream,
I see a pattern emerging, an unsettling theme.
It all began pitching ‘us‘ against ‘them‘,
A whole entire race, they want you to condemn,
As it descends into chaos, complete mayhem.
I grew up with ‘them‘, we were born side by side,
They laughed when I laughed and cried when I cried,
Why must I loathe ‘them‘? Why must there be a divide?
My ancestors were ‘them‘, must I hate them too?
No, keep your hatred, no thank you.
Don’t think that you’ll make my views askew.
Oh such a burden it is,
To think and feel with such enormity.
I am so grateful for a burden,
That rests but never tires,
On my heavy head and shoulders.
For this is what it means to be alive.
Hope is a shapeshifter, it changes its form. Sometimes it’s grainy and sparse, like sand and it clings to the tiny creases and crevices of your fingers as it slips through. And like sand, you often find it in odd places, such as in the pages of books and at the bottom of old bags. And then sometimes hope is a soft and silky fabric that gets swept up and blown along by the wind, but you like the feel of it, if only you could hold onto it for long enough.
Hope is always so pretty in any light, even when it may seem like there isn’t any, there’s always enough for you to see hope. It sparkles in the sunshine, it emits iridescent rays of colour that dazzle your eyes, filling you with awe and wonder. It’s a shining silver when the skies turn grey and cloudy, and it’s a rainbow when it rains. In the darkness, it sparkles still, and it radiates just enough light for to lead you out of the darkest of places.
Hope has many forms, and all are pure beauty.
Hope has many times of fading almost fading from existence and yet it never dies. Hope is always hopeful for you, it’s a true friend who doesn’t care how long they haven’t seen you but when you’re together it’s like you’ve never been apart. It supports you in anything you want to do and looks forward to what awaits you in the future, it doesn’t judge or undermine. Hope doesn’t care what you’re doing or what you’ve done, just hopes all will go well.
Hope doesn’t prove you wrong or laugh when you fail, just helps you pick up the pieces and carry on. Hope doesn’t care where you are now or where you’ve been before, it just cares where you’re going and wants to come along too.
Do I discover? Or do I create?