Out Of Focus
Tonight I feel like a worn out
Typewriter ribbon. No matter
How hard the keys hit there’s
Nothing on the paper, or
Maybe just an indistinct smudge.
Or like an old cassette tape
That’s been recorded over
Again and again until the only
Thing that’s audible is tape
Hiss.
The words don’t want to come.
When they do they lack focus.
I’m like an out of tune guitar,
Nothing sounds right. Maybe
I just need to rest, take a few
Days off. But what good is a
Writer, if he’s not writing ?
My Song To Spring
The sunset is later each night
Now it’s just after six
The colours are getting so bright
Pink, yellow and orange, all in a mix
I love this time of year
When you can feel a change in the air
You can tell Spring is nearly here
And my depression disappears somewhere
Maybe it’s because you keep your head tucked
Out of the wind and the rain
All your thoughts turn inward and get fucked
You only think of yourself and your pain
In summer your head goes up, your back’s straight
And you start to notice life
You realise the world’s not such a bad place
There’s more to it than just your strife
Now, I don’t want to sound
Like some soppy git
But in Spring there’s beauty all around
If you take the time to notice it
Punk Noir Magazine 
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