dinner set to "truth"

A 3 legged table,
Waiting to break in,
The guide got lost on his own tour,
a grave mistake when followed by many,
10 tablets to feed 6 billion minds,
too many rules for open eyes.

Apparitions appear to convince the disbelievers,
"Spirits do not exist!", cry's a man in the crowd,
forcibly removed by friend and foe,
Where is the shoulder for those all alone.

Every dog has his day,
every man finds a way to shackle a hound,
almost all men are convinced of their superiority,
however our best friends dont see apparitions and deception,
they see the world as a large fire hydrant.

1 leg now,
2 have fallen,
crumbled beneath 20/20 vision,
Only a few remain to hold the old oak up.

ivy

I tug on the string inside my mouth
it unravels a tangled
list of words
around my tongue

I've been using them quite frequently
to you. I'm confused what to say
and try to conjecture something different
alas I'm just spitting out the same words

trying to create a new story
I'm tired of writing the same things
in my little black book
thinking about your feelings

I'm sick of singing about love
with my rusty voice
singing this old broken tune over
and over again

No Need

7 rooms side by side,
each holding a particular memory,
from many years ago.

Its been a long time since I last walked down this hallway,
the feeling used to be safe and comfortable,
this feeling comes back briefly,
but reality comes crashing back.

When I walk,
I have no desire to enter the rooms,
with a certain feeling or memory engraved on the door,
these rooms hold nothing for me.

At the end of the corridor,
lies a photo album that has been lost for 8 years now,
holding the only memories I need from 11 years of life,
the ones spent with 4 not 3.

Waves of feeling come crashing down,
upon opening the photo albums cover,
confusing every emotion,
this hallway or corridor was just a way of letting me know,
I don't need you anymore.

the walk

Today I took a trip,
to the centre of a place that I presumed was safe,
No strangers or unknown faces here,
just nothing.

A hint of untruth was fragrant in the air however,
and untruths never have a fine smell,
feelings of betrayal begin to arise,
and a mountain bursts out through my chest.

The mountain shows what lengths must be reached,
to overcome what was thought of as a meaningless existence,
and leads me down the track with bright lights over the horizon.

This is the path,
to life's meaning and truths,
a decaying rope bridge to hope and reason,
that can only be walked alone.

the day I made it mine

I made three letters out of ugly things
an old leaf
a receipt
and a used train ticket

I wrote them all to you
and how we held hands from time-to-time
and how I liked that
a bunch

I wrote about how these things meant nothing to me
the leaf, the receipt, the train ticket
and how we mean so much to each other
where we would be if we meant nothing

I wrote something stupid
about how if you wore a small hat
it would make your eyes bigger
and how I think you're cute

I folded them all up,
put them inside my pockets
and let them wash away with the rain
they wont last forever.
The words will.

I