The Slave’s Song

So you come into my world of convenience, let me show you
Through the hidden fingerprints of others that pay the cost
On paths that there are no apps or Google to direct you
The living underworld where you are the devil himself

I’m the slave without a ball and chain on my feet
The inconvenient truth, the ugly reality of modern life
I’m the fools gold that is treasured but has no real value
If I ask you to follow, will you dare to come with me?

So you come to my world of smart phones and laptops
A tap of a finger to bring you all human knowledge
Made with coltan from the new gold rush of Africa
A blooded gift from one seven year old to another

I’m the slave that hides in the shadows of the world
The voice that you pretend you cannot see or hear
I’m the normal in the abnormal anthrocentric world
The choir where no birds are allowed to sing freely

So you come to my world of designer clothes and bags
Where the cotton grows filled with deadly chemicals
And manufactured with fewer rights than your pet
These should not be a luxury items in anyone eyes

I’m the slave that can no longer be forgotten
The itch you now wish to scratch away to dust
I’m the awakening the blinds you more than ignorance
The worse of two evils that there is no middle ground

There’s a trail without the need for blood and wars
There’s another world that’s better for us both
It’ll take us home, out of this prison cell,
Where there’s blue sky and sun to share

So you come to my world to escape it all,
And you think you’re free from the liars and fools
Through the ease of using an app or click of a mouse
Laughing at those that you think you’re the master of

I’m the slave without a ball and chain at my feet
I’m the beggar, the looser, the cheat
So you arrive at the store to download the latest edition
Will you tap or walk away, the choice is yours

So you come to my world to escape it all,
And you think you’re free from the liars and fools
Through the ease of using an app or click of a mouse
Laughing at those that you think you’re the master of

© Fi S. J. Brown

An Earthly Balance

In the month of October the leaves change themselves into many colours
And all round my neighbourhood from branches they soon drop like tears
As sadly I look to the distance hills that seem to grow further away by day
Obscured by the ever growing houses and cars replacing crops in the fields

One day it felt like ten thousand leaves fell about by my head as I pondered
With a mist descending with a quickening pace Photoshopping out the hills
And a gentle breeze was replaced by an angry gust of Mother Nature’s rage
Even the birds seemed frightened of her so kept their songs to muted grey

My eyes wandered left and right as watched the destruction she caused
But my thoughts were elsewhere lost in thought of those now forever gone
A father, a friend and a great uncle too all now stars in the evening skies
Even the chaos she caused would not change the internal mess I now felt

In this constantly changing world the view from my window now tarnished
Emptiness replaced where the leaves had once sat among the song birds
But like the soldiers of Flanders Field now lying on the ground in blood red
Humans and Mother Nature fighting to keep control that each feel their own

Too many have swapped the colourful life for that of autotuned human grey
Follow blindly like a sheep that can be manipulated into doing another’s work
But now many are awakening to this each dawn with their swords ready
And on Mother Nature’s side they will fight to keep this world in balance

In the month of October the leaves change colour but life on Earth carries on
And the armies evergreen trees protect us from Jack Frost’s chilling laugh
Humans are only one of the characters in this play not the star and director
So let us let take a back seat and enjoy the show with the others not alone.

© Fi S. J. Brown

A Surprise

Hey you, please stop for just five minutes of your time is all I need,
Gently sit yourself down on that chair of brown and olive green tweed.
Slowly closing your eyes on ten for your little journey is about to begin,
See that red door open it wide and step inside to explore therein.
What can you see, hear, feel, smell and touch but where are you?
Let every sense guide on this journey to a place you many once knew.

The green of the chair has dissolved into a forest where its life began,
A place to escape a world of grey to plastic women and lying madman.
To the left is an old oak tree with branches stretched in every direction,
He is the grandfather of this world and in charge of its protection.
In a hole around the centre sits an owl of white purer than any snow,
Singing songs and telling tales far older than any human would know.

Below your feet do not kick or pick the crowd of toadstools gathered,
They are gossips and liars so always leave their questions unanswered.
Wait what is that sound like fingers down the blackboard at school?
Oh it is a grey squirrel running down the oak’s bark acting the fool!
Follow in and out the trees until you can no longer see or hear him,
As a gentle breeze catches up with you and starts tickling every limb.

Walking on into the forest a clearing stands where a two rivers meet.
Take off your socks and shoes to let their waters calm your tired feet.
The sun starts to set with a sound like a church bell tolling for mass,
Day is now almost over and before nightfall you must whistle with grass.
It brings up the red door once more to return home away from here,
Close the door as you enter and open your eyes but never forget there.

© Fi S. J. Brown

 

Written for World Poetry Day and International Day of Forests.

Nature’s Way

Many trees of the forests are now ablaze with fires,

But the flames will never burn their leaves,
One by one Mother Nature painted with her brushes,
In every shade of red, yellow and orange.
Most get caught in a melancholy duel with the wind,
Sounding like a plucked harp’s many strings.
All leaves hope not hear the fatal G’s trap door open,
As automatically drops them to the ground.

Some leaves stand by on guard always in army green,
But never in wanton jealousy, hate or envy.
For these are the chosen ones to protect from Mr Frost,
With his chilling laughter turning all white.
For when he laughs the whole world shakes in terror,
Even human teeth chatter in fear of his name.
Others go to sleep to hide from his malevolent shrills,
Only to wake when the other leaves return.

The guardian trees are not alone in protecting the Earth,
Hidden are a secret air force ready to strike.
Sat high among the branches are birds in a chorus line,
Keeping their ears open for his opening aria.
So they can swoop down onto his long wrinkled fingers,
Pecking to make little holes through the skin.
And drown out his laughter with their harmonious song,
Filling his whitewashed landscapes with light.

© Fi S. J. Brown

A story from a phoenix

A phoenix once sat among the dust and burnt ashes,
Licking her old wounds and mending deep gashes.
Light teased and laughed as tricked her tired eyes,
Sending her stumbling as she drowned in her cries.

Trapped in a cage by body but soul was always free,
Voice muted but hoping to find the hidden magic key.
So every day she stitched so the broken wings mend,
And dreaming her Groundhog Days would finally end.

Then one day her dreams showed a path to follow,
So she gave those that blocked her way the elbow.
Finally ready to fly high and begin her new flight,
To the man in the moon who would hug her tight.

So when you look to the autumnal evening’s sky,
Never forget like her that we all have wings to fly.
As she scatters her colours on to the leaves below,
Into reds and yellow setting the world a fiery glow.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The (Un)natural World

Has the world changed or have we evolved into a new type of human being? Filled with jealous fear and hate as act as judge and jury not other’s wellbeing. No longer content to be an actor playing a part in the show that is Planet Earth. Killing others till they’re gone as turned director such is our sense of self-worth. Covering and autotuning the songs of Earth to sing in the key of human nature, and painting the world in fifty shades of grey as the brave new world’s maker.

Heavily manipulated images tell us this is what a 21st century human must be, and difference to flaws magnified as though we were some super race pedigree. Communication reduced down to words and pictures upon screens in our hands, as create fantasies of our lives, crying wolf for help and worshipping celebrity brands. Trying desperately to fit in the boxes so not alone in the wilderness to be mocked, trapping individuality forever in a room where few visited or on the door knocked.

Our foods tainted with chemicals, modified to grow in a uniform way or made in a lab, medicines causing side effects worse than the disease or perhaps prevented with a jab. With almost every new television show and movie is a re-make, take off, or sequel, where has our originality and creativity gone, may be it still sat on the artist’s easel? To be human has got quite lost in this brave new world we have now created for us, is it now time we stopped and learnt to think for ourselves before the final big hush.

© Fi S. J. Brown