Song of my senses

I see a road
that runs rings round an extinct volcano
and metallic beasts travelling fast
taking part in a race built for rats
trapped in a maze without borders
Others walk with their heads down
holding a spectre of a black mirror
and blowing kisses to the reflection
like Narcissus did long before them
sleep walking through their lives

I hear a voice
manipulated on a machine to sing
and not one that flies in the sky
all colour is reduced to white noise
and marketed like the Emperor’s clothes
Tweeting not for joy but on Boris and Hunt
their road leads to number ten in London
and tell lies but their noses never grow
choices yet seem unknown to the sheep
but the ripples will be felt for decades

I touch the stars
trying to catch the falling ones in my hands
like lost souls they need empathy not hate
troubled from traumas from a painful past
now only whispers that fear to speak aloud
As the moon sends others into a madness
too much worshipping the sun not her beauty
as false gods entrance into hypnotic obedience
with the truth lies within below the painted flesh
and wear masks to fit in boxes they do not belong

I taste the freedom
swallowing not the red that continues the lie
taking the blue awakens the brave new world
like the onion with many layers the lies go on
creating false tears as slice through to truths
Travelling a journey that never goes straight
looking back is best at with a passing glance
distractions to the left and right only entrap me
forwards one step at a time dancing to my beat
and singing songs in multicolour not white noise

© Fi S. J. Brown

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The Tree

Amongst a mighty forest of hunter green
A middle aged oak tree grows tall
Dreaming of the days she’ll be understood
Surrounded by the judging older trees
And think they know it all youngsters
She is cheerful, sad but happy too
Yet not knowing fully why

The ragged saplings of youth
Are almost trapped in their plastic guards
Dressed in all the colours of the rainbow
Where as the elders look down
Knowing things were different in their day
Simpler with less meddling by humans
Why can nature not be left to be itself

Alone with the youthful optimism
Alone among the judging elders
Her mind meanders and twists her branches
Pondering silently in the shadows of time
As the wind tickles all leaves to dance
She stretches out as listens to the birds
Wishing she could be as free as they are

© Fi S. J. Brown

Autocorrected Reality

Why have we become to be accepting of fake
Seeing and hearing a world of edited masks
What reasons do we have for hiding the truth
And become in need of validation to be alive

We have never been so close together
But have never been to be so far apart
In this virtual world anything is possible
And we can reinvent the wheel each day

Just a click of the mouse or tap of the phone
Add a filtered mask to our lives to hide flaws
Sharing a picture is easy but editing is a must
Then wondering how many likes will we get

We have never been so close together
But have never been to be so far apart
In a virtual world anything is possible
And fake news can be spun into truths

Like the Egyptians written messages in symbols
Do we need a Rosetta stone to translate again
Are we evolving or taking a step backwards
For once again we are writing upon tablets

We have never been so close together
But have never been to be so far apart
In a virtual world anything is possible
And the real world grows shades of grey

Then there are the celebrities that seem like us
And the influencers wanting to be the next thing
But they really are yet more filters to distractions
To hide a truth that has more layers than an onion

We have never been so close together
But have never been to be so far apart
In a virtual world anything is possible
And trolls to millennials ready to jump

Through the autotuned mists of disguises and lies
Chasing shadows as sleepwalk through the dreams
How can life be so unreal but be reality simultaneously
If we smash the screens will we waken or dream on

We have never been so close together
But have never been to be so far apart
In a virtual world anything is possible
And nobody knows you are really a dog

© Fi S. J. Brown

Return to Spring

The evergreen soldiers remain on guard
As Jack Frost always wants one final dance
Even though spring time has stirred anew
And footprints in the snow belong in the past

The snowbells have rung their tiny icy bells
As crocuses spread like a vibrant floral virus
Daffodils loudly blow their golden trumpets
And blossoms dance in white and pink dresses

Rebellious winds take flight as days lengthen
Roaring up and down valleys, hills, and trees
Awakening all with their high pitched shrills
Only calming when the first lambs are born

The tulips are waiting patiently in the wings
And the bumble bees ready to pounce for pollen
To peels of bluebells ringing throughout forests
Springtime is here with adventures to be written

© Fi S. J. Brown

Jack Frost – The Phoenix of Ice

It was mid-December when the snow began
To the beat of Jack Frost’s clapping hands
Making all that saw it dance like his puppets
For he is the master of the winter white ball
Manically he laughed creating many shivers
The annual uninvited guest had returned

That malevolent jester that is seldom seen
Same bad old jokes but new tunes to learn
So again he clapped his hands again to snow
Changing the tempo from waltz to foxtrot
Filling his cold and empty heart with delight
Not even the sunshine could melt this one

Stomping his feet that made rippling cracks
As all slipped and slid trying not to fall down
Leaving a strange sweet taste sweet in the air
Hypnotising some to actually enjoy his games
Where is freedom from his prison with no key
Even the trees had turned into his white guards

The answer lay in shaking salt on the streets
Burning his dancing feet and made him scream
The tremors could be felt throughout the world
All he tried transformed into puddles of water
He had lost but vowed to return stronger and wiser
And like a phoenix of ice he shattered into pieces

© Fi S. J. Brown

Christmas 2018

As angel halos are polished brighter than Rudloph’s red nose
And Santa samples every sweet his elves have made this year
It is almost here that frantic rush to buy gifts we think others want
Hoping that in return we get more than some perfume or slippers

But for the supermarkets it started back in the heat of August’s sun
We popped in for the creams of sun and ice only to find crackers
In September out came that seasonal swear box if say its name
Surely only a fool would begin their annual celebrations so soon

By October the air begins to turn that distinctive autumnal smell
Advertisers scream through the leaves Christmas is coming soon
‘Buy this now to ensure it is the best you’ve ever had’ they lie to us
Every time we fall for them anew despite promises we made before

November is when any children make their annual written pilgrimage
Making lists of things that they’ll hate by that day in late December
Thinking of nothing else as they try to behave as know he is watching
With the wanting ever growing from iPads to ponies or weight in sweets

December dawns with a black thump as the credit card receipts mount
With the trimmings on the tree many colours and sprouts that nobody eats
Quickly we must write those cards we bought for charity but not be the first
Must change with the times too sending Instagrams, Tweets or Snapchats!

Christmas Eve is the calm before the storm with little time to relax or unwind
The shopping maybe over but there is always lots of wrapping left to do
Hanging up stockings to signal to Santa Claus we are ready for your visit
And a glass of mulled wine soon turns into just the one bottle for tonight

Next morning it begins early with the excitement of kids young and old
Long lies are not meant for this day so no point even beginning to try
Presents carefully wrapped but in seconds in a hundred pieces on the floor
With forced thank you’s exchanged matched only with the fake smiles

As the knife hits the turkey’s breast all eyes stop their games and stare
Even the sugar high children’s screaming and fighting stops for a second
The crackers go bang and paper crowns worn to a chorus of bad jokes
Time to overeat with no regret – well until the wake of Boxing Day morn

Watching the festive specials on the black box that never seem as good
Was it nostalgia or even the drink that says it was better in the old days
As the calm settles a collective world taking deep breaths that it is over
At least that is for another year when we will do it all over again!

© Fi S. J. Brown

The Ogre

There was an ogre that lived
As bald as a newborn baby
But had lived at two and ten years
When she first walked this Earth
Writing formed only death wishes
Laughter tasted of bottle green
Dancing to another’s beat
Crying muted lonely tears
Growing the seeds of doubt
Record needle stuck again and again
Set on fire with self inflicted wounds
Collecting certificates for study
Stuck in laboratories like a monkey
Or was it jail with no key
As the train grew closer and closer
Time froze
Truth from camera lens not glasses
Picasso’s painted woman glanced
As a rag doll developed digitally
Sewn with threads of friendly love
But this was still not the whole truth
And the ogre wanted the final word
Humiliation across a brave new word
From an image cast on a black mirror
A selfie
No laughter came
After over two and a half decades
The ogre had lost the final battle and war
Blinded by the dawn light
Deafened by the dawn chorus
Leaving behind a human being
That is me
Now almost 40
And she is still just me

© Fi S. J. Brown

A Centenary to Never Forget

An autumn breeze gently blows over Flanders Field
Poppies stand to attention in red
An autumn breeze gently blows over Flanders Field
One hundred years since they fell

All silent now from their guns and youthful screams
Poppies stand to attention in red
All silent now from their guns and youthful screams
One hundred years since they fell

Some returned only to experience daily repeats in mind
Poppies stand to attention in red
Some returned only to experience daily repeats in mind
One hundred years since they fell

And innocent nameless bystanders now but whispers
Poppies stand to attention in red
And innocent nameless bystanders now but whispers
One hundred years since they fell

That lead to a bloody pointless and unnecessary sequel
Poppies stand to attention in red
That lead to a bloody pointless and unnecessary sequel
One hundred years since they fell

And a dark song can be heard on across the world
Poppies stand to attention in red
And a dark song can be heard on across the world
One hundred years since they fell

But imagining peace’s white bells tolling with light
Poppies stand to attention in red
But imagining peace’s white bells tolling with light
One hundred years since they fell

Finally learning the lessons that time keeps repeating
Poppies stand to attention in red
Finally learning the lessons that time keeps repeating
One hundred years since they fell

© Fi S. J. Brown

Trick or Treat

Trick or treat
(Halloween is calling your name)
Trick or treat
(Autumn leaves falling fast)
Let us see the night stars
Ringing out across the universe

Get on your broomstick – we’re gonna fly tonight
Your eyes like ashes from the bonfires
I wanna paint the sky – with moonlight brushes
Gonna leave the tears behind
Getting out of this rat-race

Trick or treat
(Halloween is calling your name)
Trick or treat
(Autumn leaves falling fast)
Let us see the night stars
Ringing out across the universe

Grab your pumpkin lantern
We’re gonna fly tonight
We got liars to the right – we got apologists to the left
Sometimes I get so low – all I have are dreams
I wanna paint the sky
With moonlight brushes

Trick or treat
(Halloween is calling your name)
Trick or treat
(Autumn leaves falling fast)
Let us see the night stars
Ringing out across the universe

© Fi S. J. Brown

Special

They point and say ‘he has special needs’
And although yes that maybe partly true
There are also some needs we all share
The need to be accepted to be ourselves
To have friends that will make us smile
Learning and growing at our own speed
Feeling valued but not as fool’s gold
There are things we all need help with
Accepting there are some things we can’t
Where as others we are the best there is
We are all made of the same basic cells
But our differences are what give colour
Normal is a function on a washing machine
And nobody is truly average in every way
Making everyone special in their own way

 

Ils indiquent et disent ‘il a des besoins éducatifs’
Et bien oui, peut-être en partie vrai
Il y a aussi quelques besoins que nous partageons tous
Le besoin d’être accepté pour être soi-même
Avoir des amis qui vont nous faire sourire
Apprendre et grandir à notre rythme
Se sentir valorisé mais pas comme l’or du fou
Il y a des choses que nous ont besoin d’aide tout
Alors que d’autres nous sommes les meilleurs il y a
Où, comme les autres, nous sommes les meilleurs
Nous sommes tous faits des mêmes cellules de base
Mais nos différences sont ce qui donne la couleur
Normale est une fonction sur une machine à laver
Et personne est vraiment moyenne dans tous les sens
Faire tout le monde spécial à leur manière

© Fi S. J. Brown