Childhood Fantasies

It was cold and dark outside.

The room was empty. I was alone.
But the footsteps echoed in my head
Of childhood dreams now gone.

Although my eyes are the same

They see the world in a different light.
There weren’t any shades of grey.
It was either black or white.

It’s nice to look back on those days

And strange how easy it seemed.
You could achieve so much in so many ways
When you sat down, closed your eyes and dreamed.

And as the footsteps drew nearer

Reality burned in their wake.
But none of the problems were clearer
And more of life seemed a mistake.

I used to wish I was older

Yet as days passed, I treasured my youth
Because the world only seemed to get colder
And lies were the only truth.

But still the footsteps came.

Had time lost its mercy now?
Was there no relief from its pain
Someday, somewhere, somehow?

As the age of truth was revealed

And days drifted into dull nights;
The dreams childhood had concealed
Were suddenly brought into the light.

When you’re born you don’t get instructions

Of what to do or to dream.
As the footsteps in your mind meet obstructions
You lose sight of all you wanted to be.

Footsteps – why cause such heartache

As you walk through the days of our lives?
Although we believe it’s for our sake
Cruel destiny rings through our minds.

You trample over our fantasies

And destroy what might have come true.
You say we are blind then ask us to see
And expect us to believe in you.

You – who kills our childhood

And steal the sweet wine of youth.
Father of time, we once thought you were good
But you steal our dreams too soon.

I once had the world to hope for

But you took that hope from me.
I thought that was all, but you wanted more,
All the things that I had once dreamed.

As a child all our wishes are granted,

Except those we don’t want to come true.
With age we become more cold-hearted,
We become the children of you.

Footsteps, you only move nearer

And more deadly at every stage.
When I see you, I see a mirror
And I gaze on the face of age.

You make us feel so worthless.

What future for us can there be?
Nothing in life makes sense unless
Age is just a child’s fantasy.

Castles in the Air

Daydreaming. That’s what it’s all about. A simple form of escapism. Imagining a world so much better than this one. Then some flurry of excitement passes through life and all our petty hopes fall, shattering into a million other wishes. As suddenly as it happened, it’s all over, as though everything had always been the way it was now. Uncertain desire pervade our tiny minds before reality leaks through the many gaps. But what is it all for? Why should we have to dream? Can’t our present lives sustain some feeble glow of joy? And is our fantasy world the real antidote for loneliness? By why loneliness?

Most of us daydream when we’re lonely, when the friends who’ve always been there have gone and everything we ever wanted just falls apart like shattered glass. For some their only desire is youth. Those too few years of non-understanding and that simple awareness that kept people young. In grow older we lose our ability to imagine and are left to rely on the memories of things that have passed. Youth hold the virtue of ignorance and the longing for wisdom and knowledge. But knowing makes us old. So we turn to castles in the air, where only we are king. And nothing else matters any more. We become involved in our own little make believe lives where the cries from the world can’t be hear and the aches inside cause not pain. It’s almost as though a sense of relief passes over us, a great wave of freedom letting our real selves burst into our minds; full of life, vivacity and energy. Compared to that reality seems so dull and meaningless. We pass through life, hurt a few people on the way – what’s the point. Imagination gives us sanity, warms us in a glowing desire for living. How easy it is to be mesmerised by all that could have been. But dreams can’t change the world, though they may alter our confused surroundings. Of course you could argue that that dreams have made us what we are. Where would we be now without imagination? Today, after all is the imagination of yesterday, and tomorrow of today.

In some dark corner of every mortal mind is a small and perfect world moulded to suit us. It is the most personal thing we have and it is at its peak in youth. So are the dreams of the elderly as wild as those of children? Or do they merely think? Remember? About what I couldn’t say. But they don’t dream. There’s nothing left to want, except time. The old have little else to do, shut out from a changing world where we are the ones who change. Yet somewhere deep inside we expect life to be the same and are unable to adjust to our different surroundings, although we slot into dreams as though we were always meant to be there.

Time and events are irrelevant. If our feeble imaginings are so much better than life with all its scorn and hatred then education should involved being taught to drift to contemplative moods, see clear paths through the maze and seek the meaning of the flame. Dreams give us a mature outlook on life, grant us some form of knowledge and comprehension of the world. They help us to learn, despite being children of an idle brain. Dreams enable us to know more about ourselves but so few people ever dream. Others don’t stop at castles but build cities and walk through their streets at various intervals in the day.

Of course, constantly living under pretence can be a bad thing. Your mind can be so certain of something entirely fictitious. On the other hand, it can keep you going when things go wrong. The ability to imagine is a gift. While in one situation we can take ourselves to a new and totally different one. Dreaming is more than futile hopes. They hold more promise. Of what, depends on the topic of your dreams. And it’s dreams that make us different from each other, our own separate goals that divide us. The law can take away our rights as people but no one can take our right to dream. It is something we will always have, through every generation that sweeps across the earth. Seductive fantasies tempt every idle mind and are so often succumbed to. Dreaming, in a way, is a skill. It becomes an art to be able to dream and completely change in to a purely imaginary person, with no real shape or form. Just an existence with human thoughts and feelings. Yet the world around us goes on, we are still the same being with the same problems, hopes and wishes as we were before. And we can be changed from this just by our imagination.

The creations of our minds are even more complicated than reality. The freedom of thought complicates our live considerably if misused. Like everything, it has its dangers. We can fill our mind with any propaganda in the world and be converted in utterly different people whether or not we wish it. So castles in the sky do have dungeons and evil tremors in the air. They aren’t all pink with turrets and flags, nestled on candy floss clouds, bathed in warm sun. They can be black, dominating, with streaks of lightening silhouetting them against a darker sky. But it takes imagination to realise this.

It is through dreams that we reach reason, with thoughts that we progress and with imagination that we create the world and lifestyle of today. Dreams are essential to everyday living however far from reality they may be. Although they are all impossible until proven possible, they are all still there, somewhere, within millions of unknown minds. They live, grow and die with us. Is it fair, is it right to try and stop these dreams from entering the minds of men, for it is they that pull us forward. And as the nursery rhyme goes ‘life is but a dream’. How true. How very true.

Once Loved

We still have the memories of the lives we used to lead.
We could have brought to life the many dreams that we once dreamed.
We had the chance for wishing and to make the wish come true,
But I let that slip away. I sacrificed my life for you.

And now you try to tell me that all you've said's not true
After the fights in which we've triumphed and all that we've been through.
You would sooner break my heart than not love me at all.
I've never known a man so heartless, never known a heart so cruel.

Earthquake

Like thunder it came to the city
Showing the power it has on each one.
Minutes last for eternity
When there's nowhere to hide or to run.

Like a demon it quivered with rage.
People trembled under its tremors.
Buildings that stood for an age
Were shaken over like feathers.

The screaming of women, the crying of children,
The non caring earth destroying their lives.
It brought down the world that they had constructed
And through brutal murder silenced their cries.

The church tower bells are heard through the city
And tell the people their time has run out.
Too late for regretting, mercy or pity.
Earth belongs to itself, is true, is devout.

And then there is silence. The anger is over.
The pulse in your head, still it throbs.
Where is your God, your family, your loved ones?
Earth won't give back the lives that it robbed.

Is there someone to blame for this torment?
Is there somewhere that we all went wrong?
Versus the earth, we're defenceless
And we can't bring back those who've gone.

So next time the fury burns high
And the heat of desire glows red
We will know that we live just to die.
We will know we are better off dead.

Ruins burn with a glowing gold fire
Like torches in darkness of night.
Black smoke rises higher and higher,
Dark shadows that won't admit light.

Is there life in these ruins of happiness?
Is there heaven on earth in this town?
Time is eternal, is endless.
Will time be killed second time round?

The earthquake is over, long dead,
But it came in its glory to kill.
In its name young blood has been shed
To show earth rules over us still.

Ode to You

For a moment there my load seemed lighter
And the night did not appear so dark.
The circle of the moon seemed brighter
And warmed the ice within my heart.
I saw pictures of your face in heaven
The twinkle of your eyes in stars;
And it felt like you were with me,
So near, though yet so far.
In that moment when I saw you
I believe the evening smiled.
You know that I'll be here for you -
A woman, yet a child.

And suddenly the world was smiling
Though tears fell heavily on the ground.
In the waking dark I heard you calling
Though you were nowhere to be found.
Now everything is grey and colder
And the stars in the sky have died.
I feel more than my age, feel older,
As though my youth has been denied.
For behind that joy and mirth
And all it seemed,
In the reality of earth
There are no dreams.

Lighthouse

He wanted her to be with him
And to never be apart.
But his days were left for dying
And she was the hope in his heart.

He told her that he loved her
And that his love was real,
Begged her to want his dying form,
Say words she didn't feel.

The angered waves were raging,
The sky turned cold and grey.
She had the choice to leave him or love him
And watch his life slip away.

And she chose to walk through his darkness
Unguided as one who is blind.
She closed her eye to dream of peace
But there was no peace to find.

Crime on the Moor

Dusk was falling. Blackened clouds stretched across the sky, casting a dark shadow over the world. Coils of mist danced like fire, writhing like snakes around her feet. Her frail body, that appeared so delicate and fragile, fought bitter against the cruel wind. With quivering fingers she pushed back a lock of hair from her white cheek. Stumbling along the rock strewn path she strained her eyes, trying to pick out the church tower from all the other shadows, hazy and indistinct. The wind stung her face and tugged at her flimsy clothes. She could hear the faint hum of the village in the distance and, yet again, searched the horizon for the prominent silhouette of the church tower.

She had lost her way over an hour ago when the mist rose, and had lost all sense of direction when darkness fell. She often walked on the moors, alone and free, laughing at the days that lay before her. But today she had come out later than usual and drifted into a world of solitary fantasy; gazing at a fiery splash of colour in the sky and watching it dissolve into nothing with a sinking, crimson globe. That was when the mist came, silent as the coming of spring that stayed only for a season then drifted to some other lonely abode. Panic didn’t set in at first but now she was beginning to feel uneasy and her heart beat faster at the sound of the wind, whistling through the heather, scattering the small stones at her feet. She quickened her step and continued, discovering paths she never even knew existed, travelling further and further from her invisible goal, deeper into the bleak night. The mist began to clear in places and as the clouds were ripped apart the silver rays of the moon cast an eerie light on the moor and inflicted a glow of terror in her tear filled eyes. Above her the sky was studded with stars, glinting at her through the windswept night.

She had been walking for ages and her feet ached with every step. She was cold and tired and longed to be back at home, dozing in front of the fire. She sank to the ground and huddled beneath an overhanging rock; shivering slightly as the wind pervaded the very core of her heart. Though its ferocious roar no longer echoed in her head and even appeared to calm down.

Having gained her strength she rose and her eyes settled on the path beneath her, uneven and muddy. As she was on the verge of resuming her eternal walk home she heard a noise in the distance and glancing hurriedly behind her, caught the glimpse of a figure emerging from the mist. As a sudden burst of terror subsided she considered accompanying the stranger to wherever fate might lead them but decided she felt safer alone. Hoping she had not been seen, she continued on.

As time passed she began to feel uneasy and stopped to gather her courage. She heard a footstep behind her, rustling the wind distorted heather. But the path she was treading was empty and she was alone. She carried on and once again heard breath like footsteps following those of her own. Walking faster than before she lost herself in the misty darkness of the night, silent and still. Behind her a careless foot scattered stones into the heather. She stopped suddenly and her head rang with deafening silence. She slowly looked around, her cheeks glistening with tears as she gazed upon bleak, empty landscape. In one panic stricken moment she froze and remained rooted to the spot. After what seemed like hours she shivered slightly and having decided it was only her imagination playing tricks with her, and set off again.

Although still shaky, gradually the cobwebs of fear were swept away and left lingering in the air behind her. In the stillness of the night she heard the distinct snap of a twig, shattering the tranquillity of her mind. In a frenzy of fear she blinded her vision with tears and threw herself on the ground, blocking out the sight of emptiness, hiding in the blackness. She heard someone walk past her and felt a shadow cast over her. She held her breath, afraid that the very beating of her heart would give her away. Slowly raising her eyes she saw the same dark figure become enveloped in the wispy mist. She rested her head on her arms and let out a sigh of relief. It was all over now. He was gone. For a moment she wanted to follow him, but her own fear forced to her to go in the opposite direction, back along the path that held scattered memories and unwanted vivid revivals of the barely forgotten past. Still walking fast and humming softly to herself she tried to banish the terror that still lingered in her mind. For a second she heard the rhythmic, fear evoking steps behind her. She increased her pace, as did her pursuer. She broke into a desperate run, followed by rippling peals of laughter.

She twisted her ankle on the rocky path, but hobbled on, never stopping to glance behind. She tripped and fell. Pulling herself up again she felt all her strength draining from her, but dragged herself on; gradually increasing her pace as the mild rest took its effect. She heard heavy breathing behind her, felt the warmth of it on her neck, tried to run faster but only seemed to get slower and slower. Her arm a jerked backwards and on turning she beheld a ghostly white face with dark, staring eyes and an evil smile. She trembled with fear and rubbed her aching shoulder. Seeing the glint of a blade in the dark she let out an ear piercing scream, but there were no ears for it to fall on; and as her plaintive cries were silenced a strip of light in the east cast a shadow of the church tower over her sleeping body.

Caller of the Night

He stole her away in the night
When the moon hung low in the sky
And it seemed the whole world was asleep
Unaware of death's wandering eye.

Like the Black Knight facing a battle
He fought, and conquered her life.
And nobody stirred in their slumber
When she succumbed to death that night.

The night remained silent and still
As her breathing quietly ceased.
She abides with a power that kills
But we pray she will slumber in peace.

She floats through dark chambers of death
Like a cloud in search of the sun,
And thinks this must be the end.
The ending has only begun.

She could feel death standing behind her
And all that he looks at dies.
But in turning to hide from his glare
Beheld sockets containing no eyes.

A skull with a cynical smile,
A reaper excelled in his art.
Though his soul was drowned beneath black
You could tell that blood dripped from his heart.

He towers over the world,
The power that life can't defeat.
Like fire, fear danced and unfurled
With the coils of mist at his feet.

And all around him was darkness
And parody of human fate.
She saw a glow in the distance called heaven
And fled from his prison of hate.

The Disease of Life

Life is a fatal illness.
It always ends in death.
Once you know you've got it
You don't know how long you've got left.
It kills everyone it touches.
The old men and the young.
Death's the only way to stop your life once it's begun.

Life is unpredictable.
It's killing all the time.
Death will come along one day
And take this life of mine.
Until they find a cure
Immortality's a lie.
Everyone upon this earth, each one is doomed to die.

Life's a losing battle.
A fight you can't survive.
God's the only doctor
Who can find a cure for life.
But those who follow God believe
(Worldwide it is the same)
That life is not destroyed in death, it's simply born again.

Goodbye

It's over.
You've said the last goodbye.
Took green from grass and blue from sky
And silent words I'd left unsaid.
A letter wouldn't change things now -
You can't write letters to the dead.
Goodbye

You took my life with you
While leaving me behind
In empty days and empty rooms and empty state of mind,
To beg in vain from moon and sky.
And it's so hard to turn away
When you're trying not to cry.
Goodbye.

I see you in my dreams
But dreams are lies.
Dreams let people live again if anybody dies.
Yet real life is not so kind
However hard we try.
The word is always on our mind,
Goodbye

People and Places

Hastings, the place where battles were fought,
But a few miles along from its shore
Was a small suburbian seaside resort
That isn't there anymore.

In the season of heat it was crowded
As people battled in sun and in sea,
And seagulls flew overhead
In an envious state of free.

No escape from the music of laughter
Nor the rhythmic flow of the waves.
People sat on the beach each year after,
Not knowing they sat on their graves.

The old men walked slowly along
While the children ran gaily ahead.
The old simply smiled and looked back on their youth
When everything worth saying had been said.

Now it's hard to believe it was like that.
The buildings are meek and yet wise.
They saw the years coming and going
But through the visitors eyes.

The pub stands alone in its silence.
Not swamped by an unruly crowd.
The sea is quietly creeping away,
Too ashamed to be loud.

It's empty, the silence is daunting.
Empty houses look hostile and mean.
There are sounds from the church that are haunting
And the waves wash away what has been.

You can return to the towns of your past,
Try to re-capture those people and places
Only to find that all, all are gone,
The old, familiar faces.