The Statue On The Steps

The statue on the steps
Warms herself in the autumn.
She is unaware of of the icy grip
Of Wednesday's sorrow.
She sits silently on the sombre steps
Blind to nature's cycle.
She is soft and tender;
Beauty radiates in her stillness.
Is she a ghost from the past,
Warning of dangers to be told?
Is she a guardian angel,
Saving a friend from sadness?
Should I awake her
To this debase and cruel world,
That taunts and teases
And crushes a once strong spirit.
I must let her rest
In her solitude and slumber
On those solemn steps.

Cowcaddens Calling

Step
By
Step
By
Step
The blood flows in the sky
Sighs and screams shatter the air
Darkness rapes the city
Spirits are soaked in despair
Step
By
Step
By
Step
Neon signs shine and explode
Hopes and dreams descend into silence
Paths are retread and broken
The empty void awaits
Step
By
Step
By
Step
Youth's bright hope dressed in green
Hollow shells die on their feet
This cavern will soon collapse
Line for the ride
Step
By
Step
By
Step

Words

Words come from empty mouths
They echo around the world
Constanly crashing into the sky;
Colliding with the sea and mountains.

Words float in the air aimlessly
Perpetuated by the wind.
Whistling and screaming,
Words find no home.

Words to me are nothing:
They are on paper
Or flashed across the screen,
Devoid of humanity's touch.

Words come from friends,
Who seek to soothe and console
Yet words provide no function
For clearing the black clouds.

Words can be objects
They can be blunt or sharp.
They can be crushed or bruised.
They can be nothing at all.

Sorrow Needs Words

Sorrow needs words
For when we gasp our last breath,
When the light drains
From our pure white eyes.
Sorrow needs words
When we cry for forgotten dreams; Our youth slips away,
As the leaves fall from grace.
Sorrow needs words
When the sky collapses in pity;
Hearts beat nevermore
All our loves are lost.
Sorrow needs words
When the trenches of fear are created;
Falling to our knees,
The pain of sorrow grows.
Sorrow needs words
When the walls of misery are erected;
We struggle and scratch,
Surrendering to death's agony.

Corridors Of Silence

The empty corridors are like veins.
They connect and form passageways
Of immense solitude and silence.
Ghosts sleep in these sorrow-laden passages:
They live among paths graced by sadness,
Which twist and turn in misery.
Whispers and echoes drain the light,
Fading in the hollow chambers
That darkness devours with delight.

The empty corridors entertain sorrow's doorways
That dance and swarm in triumph
Moving to victory cry of misery's cold grip
Faded dreams are crushed and torn
By the claws of the fatal hand called silence
That stalks these ghost-laden paths.
Melancholy lurks behind mountainous walls
Engulfing solitude's tireless journey
That perpetuates in these empty corridors.