I Can’t Think To Seem Straight - Lyndon Queripel

I can’t think to seem straight
No, I can’t think
For myself or on my feet
Of the names to the faces
On the street
My mind is blank
Missing a link
I can’t think to seem straight
No, I can’t think
Of what to say when we meet
I feel my heart
Skip a beat
My mind is blank
My eyes just blink

I can’t think to seem straight
No, I can’t think
I’m overcome by the heat
Without a shadow
Left to retreat
My mind is blank
I need a drink
I can’t think to seem straight
No, I can’t think
Without an object to defeat
 I can’t sleep
And I can’t eat
My mind is blank
I start to shrink
I can’t think to seem straight
No, I can’t think.

Lyndon Queripel

Image : Pixabay - ErikaWittlieb

Something Changed - Lyndon Queripel

Something changed
I don’t know why
I don’t know where or when
Something changed
I don’t know how
But it was different then

Something changed
I don’t know what
But I know it’s true
Something changed
It’s not the same
Was it me or was it you ?

Lyndon Queripel

Image : Pixabay - geralt

A Little Knowledge Is A Dangerous Thing - Lyndon Queripel

Do you know where we are
Can you count every star
With your naked eye
Do you know the way to go
Can you stop the acid rain
Falling from the red sky
Do you know if it’s a dream
A white vision of light
Or a flight of fantasy
Do you know the key
Is this life a mystery
A soul dance with destiny.

Lyndon Queripel

Image : Pixabay - PatoLenin

September 11th 2001 New York - Theresa Le Flem

American flags hang dismally
like forgotten laundry slung across balconies
dirty and betrayed
A grey skin of steam
plumes by the Hudson River
It echoes the smoke in our memory
Something to fill the gap
Where the twin towers stood like brothers
proud against the skyline
mothers search for sons
There is no looking
only seeing, disbelieving

American flags in tatters torn
like skin like someone waving at the moon
It’s so unreachable untouchable
this enemy of life
No amount of kindness or forgiveness
seems enough

When hate itself becomes the sword
that pierces every word and thought
What can dilute the poison draught?
Who can achieve a goal in life
if death itself is the task?

Two cylinders of buildings
where people starting work
carrying coffee, filing letters
are ignited by a spark
Death such as this
makes history itself unworthy
of the task of recording
so many lives lost senselessly

We have this hole in Manhattan to fill
It aches, it kills us still
they all belonged to us you see
now we’re loosed from it
but we don’t feel free
Our question lies uncomfortably
Why not me?
Why not me?


Image : Pixabay - Armelion

From Theresa Le Flem's collection 'Meet Me at Low Tide' available here.

Parade - Lyndon Queripel

Who rained on your parade
And stole the thunder
From under your feet
Who took the wind
Out of your sails
Breaking the heart of your beat
It wasn’t me was it ?

Lyndon Queripel

One Knee - Diane Scantlebury

One knee’s sore from kneeling
We used to give applause,
We still perform the actions
But no one remembers the cause,
There’s a personal tragedy
Behind every sensational line,
Our eyes skim over death and injustice
We’ve become atrocity blind,
One knee’s sore from kneeling
What’s the point?
Do we really care about the cause?
When nothing changes,
Do we have to keep up the applause?

Diane Scantlebury

Image : Pixabay - YvonneHuijbens

The Last Days Of Freedom - Lyndon Queripel

The rules are taught in schools of thought
Signed and designed to read the mind
Ultra sonic sound, new programmes found
And frequencies bent from past to present

Are these the last days of freedom
Before we see the dark conspiracy
Are these the last rays of light
Before they disappear into the atmosphere

Now’s the time to block the future shock
Not to be slave to the deadly microwave
And surrounded by a fog of electro smog
As toxic clouds pass by the eye in the sky

Are these the last days of freedom
Before we are to be denied the key
Are these the last rays of hope
Before we’re all seen on the global screen

Voices overheard,  recording every word
And needle points begin to pierce the skin
Taking over control of your heart and soul
A number in the queue for the zombie zoo

Are these the last days of freedom
Before we dare the bare truth to share
Are these the last rays of love
Before we all draw near to a life of fear?

Lyndon Queripel

Image : Pixabay - StockSnap

Trinity - Ian Duquemin

Of God. The Son. Or the Holy Ghost.
I've wondered in which I would trust the most…
The God. The designer. The Creator of all
If he listened, then God never answered my call
As I've prayed for peace… But the wars go on
"Protect the sick" but they too have gone
If killing is something God loves to do
I'm sorry… But I could not follow you

The Son. A man who once walked this earth
Who was crowned a king at his time of birth
Who grew to preach, and to raise the dead
To feed five thousand on fish and bread
Whose blood was wine… Who could walk on sea
This couldn't be real... It's fantasy
Should I believe in a man who lied?
Whose father just watched him be crucified?

The Holy Ghost… Of the Trinity
Where God and Son, now amount to three
The spirit of something… But I'm not sure
The death of life? That became the cure!
If death is life… Then what are you giving?
A life of struggle, not worth the living
Then show yourself, let me see the truth
Just give me an answer. Give me the proof

I'm told, I'll burn if I turn away
A sickening game that believers play
"You'll go to hell for Eternity!"
Well… Maybe hell is the place for me
As I've done my best, but that's never enough
I've fallen apart when the times got tough
Throughout my life I have felt alone
So at least I'd be able to call this home
But who is the Devil? This angel once banished
Who fell to earth and then somehow vanished
I want to believe… But what can I say?
I haven't a fiddle to play

Ian Duquemin

Is This A Cold? - Kathy Figueroa

I’ve got the sniffles and “the runs” too
Is this a cold, or maybe the flu?
I’m so tired ...should I crawl back in bed
...Or drink more tea and take zinc, instead?
 
I’m feeling hot, my throat’s getting sore,
Why can’t I taste the food anymore?
Is this a COVID-19 attack?
...Or am I a hypochondriac?
 
I really don’t know what’s ailing me
And hope that it’s just an allergy
But I’ll still stay home and isolate
My regular life will have to wait

Kathy Figueroa

Image : Banksy

Off Colour - Lyndon Queripel

That’s a black mark against you
So just imagine if you can
I saw red when you said
I should play the white man

There’s a yellow streak down your back
That runs weak through your soul
It makes no difference if the moon
Is blue or if it is whole

There’s a green flash in the night sky
A  U.F.O. comes in to view
Would you welcome an alien
Or is that a grey area for you ?

Lyndon Queripel

Colour Blind (Racism is not just a black and white issue) - Lyndon Queripel

You could be a Gentile
Or you could be a Jew
An immigrant alien
In a country that is new
You could be a member
Of a tribe called the Sioux
You could be a mirror
For others to look through
The sun could turn you brown
It might burn you red too
A fever turns you yellow
The cold might turn you blue
Your face could be deathly white
If a ghost blurred your view
You could have green fingers
Go through a purple patch or two
And think you’re in the pink
Till clouds of grey cover you
You could be an orphan
Where fields never grew
Because of Agent Orange
With your future overdue
You could be a refugee
With no home to go to
Wandering the wasteland
Where the winds of war blew
You could be one of many
Or one of an ethnic few
At rest in your own nest
When in the cuckoo flew
You could hear the daily news
Is it propaganda, is it true
Is there a Big Brother plot
A conspiracy you never knew
Is there a secret robot army
An underground Babylon zoo
Are you waiting for answers
At the back of the queue
Or in the middle of a riddle
While rumours continue
Your mood could turn black
Leaving you without a clue
Caught up in a riot race
What then would you do ?

Lyndon Queripel

A Crimp In My Snacking Routine - Kathy Figueroa

Tasty barbeque chips, how I’ve craved you so!
But have had to do without, for to the store I rarely go
And honey-roasted peanuts are such a delight!
But these persistent yearnings, I’ve long had to fight

This pandemic has definitely put a crimp
In my daily snacking routine
And forced me to limit my munching
To what’s at hand, and usually green

Though nutritious wild violet leaves
Are abundant out of doors
They don’t pack the zip of a chip
Or other delicious stuff you get at the stores

Risking a brush with a coronavirus
That’s mean and highly detrimental
Inspires a certain fear
That’s primal and elemental

So, if to the supermarket,
I feel I must make a jaunt
Careful advance consideration
Is given to exactly what I want

A strategy is devised:
When will the least tourists likely be there?
Is hand sanitizer in my purse?
What sort of mask should I wear?

Shall I don the clear plastic face shield
That allows me to breathe free?
Or that paper surgical-type mask
Which fogs my glasses 'til I can barely see?

Yes, there are many details
To be given consideration and forethought
Before I head out shopping - so groceries,
Including snack food, can be safely bought.

Kathy Figueroa

Moonless Sky - Lyndon Queripel

Circles of light spin through the night
The Moonless sky is falling apart
Could it be the hand of God I see
Coming to capture my sinful heart
Time and space leave no hiding place
So was it the Rapture about to start
Or would I find that it’s all in my mind
Just the dancing illusion of a black art ?

Lyndon Queripel

Drifting Poet - Ian Duquemin

If it wasn't for your kindness
He would be a drifting poet
Who might sing a song of sadness
To whoever wants to hear it
And his words would flow like water
That would trickle through their ears
Where each drop that they were hearing
Would amount to all his tears
As every poet's heart is hurting
It's the way that God desires them
To break the hearts of others
So that he can overcome them
Leaving scars that have some meaning
From a time when they were broken
And the only cure they needed
Were the gentle words once spoken
By the healing sound of thunder
Or the silence of a whisper
From the voice that serves to call you
If he had become that drifter
But he stayed within your comfort
Like a child that needs affection
Contented in your arms
As though he longed for your protection
It was you who gave him shelter
Sowed the thoughts of Inspiration
So that every word he'd spoken
Was a breath of aspiration
If it wasn't for your kindness
Then I wonder where he'd go?
Well I've never been a poet
So I guess we'll never know

Ian Duquemin

Spritual Ritual - Lyndon Queripel

Did you burn out in the fire
When the flames got too high
Did you lose your shroud of cloud
When you touched the sky
Was your temple made of straw
Or was it made of gold
When the lightning struck
And the thunder rolled

Did you weather all the seasons
Or was your reign in vain
And did the blood you shed
Only leave behind a stain
When you danced across the water
Of the living dead
Did they sacrifice their lies
Or turn away instead

You ran around high circles
In the air of nowhere fast
Now you present your future
With fragments of the past
When you finally got the message
Written on the throne
You looked behind to find
Your mind had turned to stone

When you knelt before the altar
To offer up your prayer
You found your heart was empty
And your soul was bare
Without a trace of grace
Where will you place the blame
On the day when time stands still
And you have to answer to your name.

Lyndon Queripel

Barred, From Company - Tony Bradley

Nobody, I thought close, is corresponding with me
not an e-mail, a pigeon, nor postie at the gate
I'm sure I replied, I certainly tried, but have I
really annoyed so many, of late?

Sometimes someone's lost, a long way from home
but no wanderers in sight, seeking directions
I am forsook, alone, with just a book, on loan
nobody wants kindness, a little affection.

I've bought some Twinings, I'd never touch the stuff,
but some visitors, DO love their cuppa
Ooh! . . it's Peaky Blinders soon
I'd better go and make my supper.

Tony Bradley

For x - Sarah Alexander

When did I become a shade?
A figment of your imagination passing by
So engrossed in your conflicting self
That you did not see my smile

When did you dreams fragment into splinters in your soul
And the light dim inside your mind ?
When did the darkness become all encompassing
So much so that your heart went blind

You did not see me clearly
Your perception was your all
And that to you was your reality
To my detriment and yours

Sarah Alexander

Two Faced - Lester Queripel

I’ve got people asking me to be their friend on Facebook.

Yet when I see them on the street they don’t give me a second look.

What’s that all about?

Lester Queripel

The Nerve - Philip M Gale

Have you got the nerve
to take it all the way
make it work when all goes bad
fight another day.

Then rise above the odds
to do your given best
battle on against the pain
without a day of rest.

Can you hold your nerve
when they destroy all your trust
turn the other cheek
still love life when love is lost.

Can you look at danger
stare it in the face
have you got the nerve
to join the human race.

Philip M Gale

Ask Uncle Sam - Lester Queripel

How is the world with you?
Does the joy outweigh the pain?
Are you getting more sunshine than rain?
Are you on a mission?
Or do you follow the old tradition?

Do you complain and look for someone else to blame?
Or is your loss someone else’s gain?
Is there something you’d like to rearrange or exchange?

Are you in a jam?
Have you got a future plan?
How many decades does it span?
Do you relate to your fellow man?
Have you had a word with Uncle Sam?
Perhaps you should when you can.

Lester Queripel