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[mugspoetry]

Leviathan - Visual Audiobook

[mugspoetry]

The Woods - An Omnibus

[mugspoetry]

A Fantasy Short Story Poem

[mugspoetry]

A Macabre Sardonic Lovecraftian Horror Extravaganza

[mugspoetry]

Catharsis 2019 

Book 3

[mugspoetry]

Doubt

I am all too often asked

Whether I am a Christian

And when I say I’m not

Then I must be an atheist

And if I’m not an atheist

Then surely I’m agnostic?

And if I’m not agnostic

Then I’ve probably lost the plot

And so I’ll be classified as agnostic

Whether I like it or not

Because I need to wear a label

So that you can put me in a box

And heap me with a certain group

Of like-minded human beings

Who all share a common view

And understanding of the world

Because now you can ‘strawman’ me

And argue that I am wrong

As that validates your view

And justifies your throng

But if I had to choose a faith

And a religion to pursue

Then I would create my own

And call it doubt

For I do believe in doubt

As it’s all I really know

Because anything else requires faith

And a myriad of presumptions

Or a forceful blindness

That reinforces those assumptions

In fact, the absence of doubt

Necessitates conviction and certainty

Which I find absolutely bizarre

When you’re seeing the same things as me

Because our knowledge is limited

To what we can actually prove

So creating your own beliefs

And claiming that they’re true

Makes no sense at all

Because they’re just beliefs that work best for you

And with your faith you now create

Your own subjective reality

You build concrete and immovable walls

That desecrate philosophy

Because you just close yourself off

To anyone else’s views

Because they inevitably chafe against yours

And the very specific lens you decided to choose

And your opinion is static, because you can never be wrong

Whereas doubt is still malleable - which is what makes it so strong

And the only thing I’m certain of

Is that I really do not know

Which is why I believe in doubt

Since it’s far more powerful than faith

Because in the absence of any proof

Doubt is the most rational belief to have

Because it’s just irrational to try answer

Why we’re here and where the spirit goes

Because no matter what you say

The truth is no one knows

So doubt is all I really have

And it’s all that will ever be

In fact, it’s the only possible solution

That I can see in front of me

Because with doubt you can answer any question

By simply saying: ‘I don’t know’

And you can never argue against such doubt

Without relying on your unprovable belief

Which as the basis of your argument

Makes our discussion all too brief

So my belief in my not knowing

Is far stronger than any faith

Because faith entails an unfounded belief

In something you don’t actually know

And if you’re ever able to prove your faith

By actually showing me that it’s true

Then we’ll probably both be dead

And I still won’t be wrong

Because doubt is always correct

Until the truth finally comes along.

[mugspoetry]

Strangeworld

Isn’t it strange how we all live out these separate and individual lives

In sweeping chains of existence stretching out across the world

Like some convoluted netting of interconnected thread

Criss-crossed and scattered haphazardly throughout the planet

Billions upon billions of distinct human lives

Stacked upon each-other in a myriad coalition

Of living, breathing, thinking, seething humanity

In a tangled mess of fibres that are buzzing, pulsating and echoing

As the threads of our lives form a giant interwoven web

Forged from our globular mesh of oneness

And composed of several billion strands of singularity

And isn’t it strange how we all have voices in our heads

A buzzing, perpetual monologue

That is constantly thinking out loud

In a soothing and familiar note to self

That considers, evaluates and discusses

That watches, questions and observes

That congratulates, celebrates and cheers

That chastises, berates and harshly criticizes

Almost everything we do

And isn’t it strange how our lives meander through countless chapters

As the environment around us changes

And as we pass through new countries, new cities and new jobs in a thrum of turning pages

And the people we surround ourselves with ebb and flow

And wither and fade

In and out of our lives

And as our family ages and dies, whilst we slowly create anew

Yet the only constant thread throughout is the same eternal you

And isn’t it strange how our days coalesce into one long and distant blur

Which wraps itself around peak moments

Like hazy inflection points in this buzzing flow of time

A constant trickle of seconds, hours, days and months

Which slowly merge into years

And then distort into decades

Before finally culminating in a lifetime

Of which we only receive one

And isn’t it strange how constantly we change

Yet everything around us can remain the same

Like a buzzing, quaking pool of energy, suspended in stasis

As our bodies age, change, fail and heal

As our minds evolve, expand, constrict and absorb

Yet the mountains, oceans and valleys

Distances, time, seasons and stars

Remain as a constant reminder of our insignificance

And irrelevance within an enormous world

Immersed within an even larger universe

Of which we barely know or understand a thing

And isn’t it strange how our lives run their course

How we experience thousands of carefully constructed happenings

In thousands of different settings

With thousands of different people

In a great and varied mosaic of moments

That peak and trough and tremble in-between time

That explode in enormous and momentous events

Yet slowly trickle through ten thousand days

And isn’t it strange how we inhabit this earth

With a multitude of animals, insects, and beings

With which we barely interact

And share no common language

And usually understand only through sight

But with which we share everything in this world

And who experience the same sequential process of life

Who are all born, hatched, created and thrust into this world

And shimmer through life under the same climates, seasons and sun

Before finally dying, in an identical cycle and pattern to us

And isn’t it strange how none of us can truly answer why we are here at all

And how we all meander through an endless assortment of religions, beliefs and ideals

In our individual attempts

To try and explain the unexplainable

And to try answer the unanswerable

By assuming that we know what is unknowable

And although dogmatically split between our different answers to ‘why’

We are all intrinsically united through the shared and undeniable fact

That none of us can truly know what will happen after we die

And isn’t it strange that it’s strange,

And that our lives make no sense?

That we are all just born into this world

As if we were seemingly plucked out from somewhere

And then sent to live a life here

By nothing, something or someone

And then after less than 100 years

We keel over and die

And are seemingly sent off to somewhere

Or simply cease to exist

By nothing, something or someone

And this whole time we are completely oblivious

To who or what is pulling these strings

And in our blind delusion

And in our unwavering ignorance

We call the nothing, time

We call the something, nature

And we call the someone, god

But none of us can really know

And subsequently, none of us can agree

Which means that we are truly at a stalemate

Because,

A nothing

Will serve just as well

As a something

Or a someone

About which

Nothing

Can be said.

[mugspoetry]

The Power of the Written Word

There is an incredible power to written words

These strange little gatherings of symbols

Individually meaningless scribbles

Haphazard shapes which loop

In odd and peculiar ways

Dripping

Contorting

Spiraling

Across the page

In a meandering and unpredictable cadence

That will generally mean absolutely nothing

Until you’re about six years old

And these carefully placed symbols

Coalesce together to form words

Which cluster in little staccato bursts to form sentences

Which wildly web and weave to form stanzas

Which trickle uncertainly down the page

To finally form a poem

Which you now read

And these poems send you messages

Transferred from the page into your eyes

Which creates a conduit to your brain

Where they are processed, analyzed, deconstructed and framed

In that strange and mysterious world that lies deep inside of you

A world which uses the poem as a template upon which to place a feeling

A feeling which envelops you in its dense embrace

And holds you briefly in its thrall

There is a direct link between the words you read

And this feeling that ensues

Like a staggered, sequential, systematic chain of events

One leading the other, using your body as a tool

To result in something that is hard to fully comprehend

Yet which couldn’t be more tangible

And this feeling could be joy

You could read a poem and feel warm

Filled with the bliss of blooming flowers

Wrapped within the heady perfume of their scent

Or you could feel the furry stroke of a puppies paws

Or the gently flowing sound of rain,

Perhaps the reverence of love,

Which makes you feel happy and at peace

As the edges of your smile curl

In a soft and gentle crease

Or you could read a poem

And feel sick to your stomach

After its words described a scene

Of oozing pus, steaming vomit, gangrenous rot and clotting blood

Of butchered children hanging limply by their entrails

As they’re swung lustily around the heads of gleeful, pedophilic cannibals

In a most sickeningly vile vista

That will haunt you forever after

A jarring tale which made you realize

That you cannot spell slaughter without ‘laughter’

Or you could read a poem and feel sad

With tears welling in your eyes

Overcome by a terrible,

Quaking, crushing sorrow

As you remember that time

When you held your fathers hand

As his feeble, cancer-riddled body

Offered one last trembling breath

Before he drifted into nothingness

And broke you with his death

Or you could read a poem and feel anger

As it spits on your ideals

And chastises your beliefs

Calling you stupid and inconsequential

Through a barrage of insults and denigrations

Which causes your brows to furrow with rage

Fury spasming like coiling snakes across your face

Leaving you incensed and wanting to tear the pages right out of the book

Having fallen straight into the authors trap

Pugnaciously dangling from his baiting hook

See, language is so powerful

Words hold so much weight and force

They permeate our world with their ubiquity and impact

Words written in bibles, inducing worship and obedience

Words written in legal documents, creating penalties and actions

Words written in academic journals, propelling human knowledge

Words written in ink, blood, chalk or typed on a computer

Words which create movies, movements, moments and martyrs

Words which wean weddings, explain suicides, and reveal motives for murders

Words which heal nations, divide races or call thousands to arms

Words which end careers, start religions or prompt assassinations

Words which are whispered, screamed, howled or sung in stadiums

Words upon words upon words upon words

Generating tears, discussion, confusion and unease

Causing riots, wars, death, destruction and upheaval

Causing unity, purpose, empathy, love and respect

They can eviscerate, celebrate, unsettle and enrage

They can mend, they can help, they can make someone feel

They can soften, they can cure, they can make someone heal

They can taint, they can hurt, they can make someone bleed

They can maim, they can ruin, they can make someone plead

All as a result of these strange little symbols

Which cluster together in little staccato bursts to form sentences

Which wildly web and weave to form stanzas

Which trickle uncertainly down the page

To finally form this poem

Which you now read.

[mugspoetry]

the woods

And there we were

One last time

Just the two of us, as it always was

Two old friends from the very beginning

Here right until the very end

One young, one old

One sad, one bold

One confused and uncertain

The other headstrong

And so we sat

Side by side

For one last time

Not saying much,

As there was no need

for we had said it all

As was our way

You, with your coffee and your cigarettes

Me, with my tea and my rusks

Lost in a wonderful moment

Drinking honeyed rooibos

from home-made buttermilk husks

And with a smile, you looked at me and said

That you love me,

as you did every time I came to visit,

And with a tear in your eyes

you looked so far through me

That I had to catch my breath to get you back

And with that beautiful motherly smile

Teeth hewn from old cigarette smoke and coffee hues

You asked me to read,

‘Please,

Please read for your

Gran’

And so I read

And I read

And I read

until there were no more words to say

because

Every word I ever wished

Every thought I wanted to share

Every feeling I wanted to express

Had been said

And,

With that same smile,

wet by tears this time,

you began to read to me

in your gravelly nicotine voice

carefully,

slowly,

weaving a story of the woods,

the woods that wrap their limbs around us all

and the sweet, calm embrace of the groves within

these are my woods

as much as they are yours

for we have spent many an hour

deep inside her bounds

locked within the reveries

of a magic otherworld

led by their magnificent conductor

caressing the sounds of a breathing copse of trees

through the beaks of countless avian sopranos

as they call  into the sky

with the magic of the night

a sky you know oh too well

the veil between here and then

is it the same sky that you see now?

From the distant corners of our woods

Will I find you someplace, deep within the trees?

Or have you left without a trace?

Disappearing into the mist

that blankets the woods

leaving  a sea of black trees

that slowly tilt

left, and right,

side to side

left and right

sweeping with the breeze

that is my memory of your voice

a voice that once told

all the stories that you hold,

stories from the edge of the woods;

a voice that carried

so far and so pure

like birdsong at dusk or dawn;

a little old voice

that cloaked the trees

with stories of wonder and woe;

the voice of the woods,

of every creak and crack,

a voice that I’m so glad I know

and so ill look for that voice

at the edge of the woods

from now until long after I die

because ill always remember,

from my earliest days,

how I followed you

so carefully through the trees;

deep into the heart of the forest

far beyond where I would ever venture alone

safe under your guiding hand;

until one day I lost you

and all that was left

was me

perched on a rock

alone in a forest

under a darkening sky

and miles and miles from home.

[mugspoetry]

An Ungrateful Trespasser

I hold a flower in my hand

Budding bold and true

A swathe of colour and mystique

Peering out from a shroud of morning dew

Her stem lazily spirals down

Like a long and velvet throat

Dangling from my hands

As I hold her head afloat

So soft and gentle is her touch

That I wish she were my skin

A mothers touch upon my palm

Sending love and joy within

Her beauty flows throughout me

In a peaceful, pulsing wave

Whilst I watch water droplets dance

Celebrating the life that they just gave

And she is so pure and fresh,

Her proportions so perfectly sound

That I wish I hadn’t plucked her

Tearing her so cruelly from the ground

Because now her sleek and slender body

Lies listless in my hand

Suspended far above the earth

Disconnected from her land

Within days she will wilt

As her body slowly dies

Robbed of her precious soil

The colours will leave her eyes

And I’m shocked at what I’ve done

Oh so arrogant and vain

Disturbing the balance of things

As if she was mine to claim

How dare I rip the flesh

Of my mother’s perfect skin

In a callous display

Of quintessential human sin

What right do I have

To interfere with her earth

By plucking her flowers

To which she’s carefully given birth

And I feel so ashamed

About this tiny thing I’ve done

That my whole perspective has just shifted

And I suddenly feel overcome

With a strange mix of grief and anger

At the wasted life that’s in my hand

And how my whole life I’ve felt nothing

About tearing roses from the land

And with a sudden flash of insight

I realize how we have no value for our earth

Because this rose is just a metaphor

For how we all misconstrue her worth

She is never ours to take

We have gotten it all so wrong

As we’ve forged our society

By stifling our planet’s song

Because we rip apart her flesh

Extracting minerals and gold

Just to wear upon our bodies

Where they hang useless and cold

We decimate her forests

Upheaving countless souls

By forcing animals to flee

Leaving just mud and empty holes

We spit plastic into her oceans

With such murderous apathy

Defiling an entire system

With fecal entropy

We burn land down to ash

And then we cover it with tar

Killing off all life

Just so that we can drive our cars

We cover the earth

With concrete and steel

Building sprawling cities

From which our planet cannot heal

We extract, destroy and kill

Until there is nothing left at all

It’s akin to cutting off our legs

So that we can only crawl

And so our relationship with our world

Is one of ownership and greed

Whereby she has no value

Beyond the goods we think we need

And so our world is slowly dying

Choking underneath our weight

Yet we refuse to change our lives

And now it’s far too late

How have we let this happen?

How could we have become so cruel?

That we only see our mother earth

As a source of endless fuel?

And I might have just plucked one rose

Out of a momentary indifference

But others uproot entire forests

And their reasoning is no different

So with this wasted rose before me

I feel a burning sense of shame

At the world, and with myself

For every individual harbors blame

And I feel a dark spasm of anger

Which makes me clench my fist dead tight

Crushing her throat beneath my palm

Forcing her thorns to blindly bite

And so her teeth pass through my skin

As her stem splinters in two

Her thorns pierce my flesh

Where they brim with scarlet hue

A crimson tongue streams

Between my fingers, palm and wrist

A mournful red river

That slowly turns and twists

Beguiling my skin

With careful, cryptic curves

A message in blood

Pain splintering through my nerves

And I watch this river flow

As it glides gently down my arm  

Pleased that I have suffered

For causing nature harm

Never again will I pluck

A rose from the ground

Never again will I disturb

Any beauty that I’ve found

I shall be a mere observer

A shadow in the dark

Watching the world breathe

Never leaving any mark

I’m glad I’ve learnt this lesson

And I will never disturb the world again

The earth has already suffered far too much

I won’t contribute any more to her pain

And so I place the corpse

Of this broken, bloodied rose

Down onto her treasured soil

From which she once arose

And with a vow upon my lips

And a gracious change of heart

I can finally see the world for what it is;

A perfect work of art.

[mugspoetry]

The Benevolent Gardener

A rose petal spirals from high

Red parachute aflame

Weaving slowly through the sky

Softly calling out my name

And as she tumbles past

She just happens to catch my eye

And by fortune I turn my head

Just as she passes me right by

And in a moment I’m transfixed

By this petals softly lilting flight

As the dew gathered upon her brow

Glimmers in the morning light

She’s bobbing through the turbulence

Of the winds never-ceasing sigh

As if glued to a spider’s web

From which she will never be untied

Like a ballerina she pivots

In a spinning pirouette of grace

Her crimson dress billowing

As she gently floats through empty space

Curled and then unfurled

Like the wings of some mighty beast

The petal slowly meanders

Side to side, west to east

And I can almost hear the crash

As she makes contact with the floor

Her dreaming dance is over

This rose will fly no more

But what a moment I’ve just witnessed

As nature carefully takes a breath

Sending this lonely little petal

Spinning softly to her death

And the beauty is that this petal

Would have drifted down from up high

Regardless of whether I was here

It was just my luck that I happened to pass by

For I am an inconsequential human dot

In this myriad, pulsing world

Filled with slowly tumbling petals

Gently drifting as they’re unfurled

And whoever sent that rose tumbling down

Planted the same bush from which it came

And I know that this benevolent gardener

Long ago planted me just the same

And what a privilege to be a part of her garden

Filled with its collection of roses and thorns

Around which I’ve carefully maneuvered

From the day that I was born

And much like how a flower blooms and blossoms

Before being sent to spiral through the sky

I know I’ll be the same

And I long gave up questioning why

Because I’ve learnt to just accept

That I am the same as that rose

I merely inhabit nature’s garden

And she controls where I go

And after receiving today’s gift

I wish to thank my earthen queen

For providing me with her garden

In which she lets me weave my dreams

So I stoop down and pick up her petal

That lies curled upon the floor

And I fling it into the sky

So that she can dance once more.

[mugspoetry]

Please Don’t Drink and Drive

The radio is on and we are all happily singing along

The four of us sitting in our trusty metal steed

Soaring across the highway an hour out from home

Bodies tanned and healthy from a holiday in the sun

Relaxed and ready to jump back into our busy, frenzied lives

After a gorgeous week together where we truly felt at ease

Happily at peace with ourselves and with the world

Another lovely chapter in our beautiful book of life

And Dad slowly turns the wheel as he has a thousand times before

Mum is sitting chatting as she reaches for an apple that bounced onto the floor

My Sister is lounging in the back with headphones perched onto her head

Little did I know that in seconds they would all be dead

As moments later my heart drops and my brain shudders into shock

As I see a car swerving from the other lane like a slow and liquid dream

With the last thing I remember from that surreal, stumbling scene

Being my mother’s strange and strangled cry

And with it the knowledge that we were all about to die

And when I come to and finally open up my eyes

I see the worst sight in the world

I see my family smeared into asphalt

Cruelly plastered into the tar

Limbs torn and spewn in pieces

Bodies twisted in the car

My entire world lies around me on the road

Ripped apart in fleshy, crimson chunks

Warm bodies seething with blood

Pouring out in an awful, slushing flood

And as I lie amidst the smell of smoke

And burnt rubber from mangled tyres

I feel this awful dread arise

The dread that means someone has died

Like a choir of ragged carcasses they lie

Led by the desperate screams of my mother as she dies

Whimpers from my father as he curls into a ball

Both legs torn off into ragged clumps of gore

Carefully ironed jeans he so loved and bought last Wednesday

Now furled and bloodstained as they closet empty stumps

Those careful, calloused hands that I held an hour ago

Are now woven into the road like ravaged smears of red

And he lies there with his body gently shaking in shock

Reduced to a death-rattling reflex, from a man who was my rock

It’s heartbreaking to watch him die

And t0 hear the voice that I once cowered under

Or which caused me to instantly fill up with joy

As a a shivering mess of childish whimpers

Which gradually fades into silence

Replaced by his breath bubbling in bloody, broken gasps

Until even that ceases and his eyes roll back into his head

Those same eyes that watched me come into this world

Now lie dead inside an unrecognizably shattered face

A sight from which I will never be able to recover or erase

And my sister, who I always loved like a best friend

Is just a broken corpse tangled inside a car

Her tanned and hairless limbs that she so carefully shaved last night

Now lie in tattered strands within the mangled, metal husk

Her head lies tilting back, with her mouth crushed into a gaping hole

The long blonde hair that she brushed for hours throughout her life

Now hangs limply by her side as a mattered mop of crushed skull

A once gorgeous, vibrant soul, is left a crumpled, empty shell

And these people that I loved

And who held my hand through every day

Who I shared everything with for so many happy years

Now lie dead and broken in clotting pools of blood

Faces I held so dear, now leaking into a mess of tar and mud

I will never speak to them again

I will never hold them again

I will never hear their voices

Those curious inflections of speech that I came to know so well

Their dreams and thoughts and memories and constant, never-ceasing love

Their glances and quirks and smiles and hugs

Are now just a mess of human debris, plastered into asphalt

Caused by a drunken decision, due to someone else’s fault

And until the day I die

I will remember their empty eyes

Their torn and leaking limbs

Their shuddering, tortured cries

The misshapen slices of their bodies

Mashed between the remnants of the car

And the smell of their blood

As it seeped into the tar

Every time I close my eyes

Every time I see a photo of them

Every reminder and coveted moment of nostalgia

Will slowly seep into the image of their shredded, mangled bodies

Smeared into the road

And the final moments

The desperate shriek from mom

The wet and gushing sounds of my sister being torn apart

The thump as my father’s body smashed into the road

And the dead silence in the aftermath

That terrible and harrowing silence

Where I looked at the world

And saw it lying in pieces in front of me

And realized that I will never truly live again

Because every day I wish I had also died.

This could have all been so easily avoided

Please never drink and drive.

[mugspoetry]

Non-Conformity

I am just a single me

In a giant world of yous

And given the choice of me or you

Me is who I’ll always choose

Because there is only one of me

In fact, it’s the only me you’ll ever see

Which means that I will be the greatest me

That I can ever strive to be

And because I’m first and foremost me

With this me being all I’ll ever be

I need to make this desperate plea

To those who just won’t let me be:

“Please can all of you

Stop telling me to be,

More and more like them

And less and less like me”

Because I don’t want to be like you

And I don’t want to be like them

In fact, the less I am like them or you

The more I am like me and true

So I will continue being me

Down to the smallest possible degree

Because the more me I can be

Means the more I can feel free

And when you yous tell me

That I’m just like the other yous you see

Then you’re using them

To compare me to what’s not me

But I am not you at all

You’re someone I can never be

For I am uniquely my own

I’m a distinct and individual me

And since I am not like you

It follows that I am not like them

Because that them is composed of yous

Who try tell me

That I must be

Less like me

And more like you

To fit your them

Like all you do

And once you accept

That I’m always going to be me

A unique individual

Who will always be free

Then please will all of you

Stop telling me what to do

By trying to get me to be

Less like me and more like you

To fit this them you hold onto

Because don’t you get it?

Can’t you see?

You’re a YOU!

They’re a THEM!

I’m a ME!

And although you yous might be individual thems

I am always my own individual me

So I will never ever be like you

Which means that I will never be like them!

BUT

You + them + me

Together = we

And what’s great about this plus

Is that we now form an US

And I like us being a we

Because you can still be you

And they can still be them

Whilst I can still be me!

So now that we’re a we

I can merrily be a me

Thus, I’m happy to be an us

And I’ll join the we without a fuss

Because within this composite we

You can be you and I can be me

Thus, we can all retain our disparity

Whilst standing together in unity

So I’ll never be one of them

Because I’ll never be like any of you

But on my own terms I’ll form a we

As that’s the best that I can do

And as I said before,

I am just a me in a giant world of yous

And given the choice of me or you

Me is who I’ll always choose!

[mugspoetry]

An Unfathomable Cruelty

We are all the same

You and me,

Us and them,

Everything

A skeletal base

Fleshed yet bare

Intricately woven

With skin and hair

Limb and sinew

Bone and nail

Joint and tissue

Dark and pale

We all flow in the same great current

The same endless, nameless force

That ebbs and flows,

Comes and goes,

And carries us along

We are all just primal stimulus

Atoms, cells and nucleus

Carefully intertwined

Amongst an inner nebulous

Our basic, inherent functions

Are common and unchanged

We strive to find utility

Eat food, keep warm, find shade

We all have hearts that keep us running

And we all bleed a crimson red

At birth we’re thrust into the world

And leave when we are dead

We have all been given bodies

So that we can run and swim and dance

We possess elaborate emotions

That are conveyed with just a glance

We weave our personalities

With complex quirks and traits

That warp with our experience

As we endure sorrows, joys and hate

Our limbs and eyes and hearts and minds

So carefully sculptured and aligned

Our thoughts and feelings, words and mimes

Create a person when combined

Evolved and constantly refined

Until our makers were satisfied

There is no question - we’re all designed

To fit the mould of humankind

For every single one of us

Was born with the same breath

The fire that makes us human

And that dies with the same death

And we were all born into this world

Whether we liked it or not

And we will all eventually leave this world

Either cremated or left to rot

Thus we all live within these twin parameters

And our mortal scaffolding is the same

And we are equal in that we’ve all arrived on earth

With no clear idea from where we came

But why is it that some of us

Are born crippled and diseased,

Thrust into mangled bodies

Forever taunted, torn and teased?

Why are some children born

Into worlds of hate and dust,

Starved and raped and beaten

Slaves to someone’s lust?

Why are some of us happy

And healthy and at ease,

When around us lie the bodies

Of those who lived life on their knees?

How come I have food,

A family, house and bed,

When there are children in the street

Who have never been fed?

Why do some laugh

When others can only cry?

Why do some revel in life,

Whilst others wish to die?

Why do some families crumble

Into financial ruin and despair,

Whilst others seem to thrive

Leaving eternal wealth for every heir?

Why are some lives stolen early

By violence and disease,

Whilst others live a century

Surrounded by happiness and ease?

Why are some wives beaten down

By husbands who treat them with disgust,

Whilst others are forever cherished

In marriages forged by love and trust?

Why do children die of hunger

With bloated stomachs from disuse,

Whilst others gorge themselves on sweets

Free from starvation and abuse?

Why is there murder

And rape and lust and hate,

Assigned so arbitrarily

By some insidious force of fate?

Who would create a world

With so much sadness and despair?

Who would clothe one child

Whilst leaving another bare?

Who would stack the odds

So that a rapist is awarded pleasure,

Whilst their victim is left to die alone

After being raped by their aggressor?

Who would carefully build our bodies

Only to have them slowly break apart,

Whilst letting us watch the process happen

Fuelled by our slowly dying heart?

Who would craft such a powerful mind

That is capable of enormous comprehension,

Yet let it be ruined beyond saving

By dementia and depression?

Who would breathe wind into the skies

And fresh dew into the air,

But allow it to carry diseases

From host to host without a care?

Who would allow armed groups of men

To rape, slaughter and pillage,

Or send a pulsing flood

To drown an entire village?

Who would ravish crops

With droughts and insect swarms,

Or sink ships and drown thousands

With quaking wrathful storms?

Why are some births rewarded

Whilst others are cursed from the start?

What force is orchestrating this

With such a callous heart?

It just makes no sense to me

Why there is such disparity,

Why there’s chance and luck for some,

And for others, misery?

Surely there’s some price

That we will eventually have to pay,

For the times when people starved

Whilst we looked forward to another day?

Is there a reason why I was born

Into a life of opportunity and love?

Is there some great plan unfolding

With orders from above?

Or is this just random luck,

From the roll of someone else's dice,

A someone who’s calmly playing cards

With frozen veins of ice?

Or is there no-one at the wheel?

Is this even more random than such luck?

Is everything just arbitrarily unfolding,

As countless atoms are left to run amuck?

Because I shudder to imagine

Who could design a world like this,

And who could fill it with so much terror

And such startling unfairness

And I almost hope that all of this

Is sheer blind chance and chance alone

Because I would truly hate to meet

The mind that decided to condone,

A world filled with so much suffering

So much sorrow, hate and pain

And who blithely allows this awful pattern  

To repeat itself again and again and again

And I hope that when we die

We’re just senseless atoms ceasing to exist

Because the alternative is that we are strings

Clenched in some omnipotent puppeteers fist

A puppeteer who feels nothing

About sending children to the grave

And who pulls the strings of two human beings

Allowing one to be a master and one a slave

Thus I hope that there is nothing sentient

Controlling all of our lives on earth

Because otherwise something consciously

Hands out unfairness with every birth

So, I’d rather there be no meaning

And for everything to just be down to chance

Because the thought that there is someone overseeing this

Is enough to make me blanch

And if our lives are not random

But are rather carefully overseen

Then I have no love at all

For that controlling being

Because, to be quite frank

And to be as blunt as I can be,

I would be absolutely terrified to meet

Whatever has created me.

[mugspoetry]

Crossing The Atlantic

The noise is overwhelming

As I travel through the sky

In a tiny box with wings

Which somehow seems to fly

There is no horizon to be seen

Just the darkness of the night

As I arch across the clouds

On this transatlantic flight

It’s so strange to have an ocean

Tucked away beneath my feet

Separated only by the cabin floor

And the steel of my seat

The sea stretches out below me

Like the skin of a slumbering beast

Inky black scales overlapping

Dividing west from east

And after hours of seeing nothing

But the black shadow of the sea

I finally make out something in the distance

Which erupts a wave of relief inside of me

Because I can see a myriad web of veins

Stretched out and shining bright

A congealed mass of flickering dots

From a reef of sparkling city lights

Which forms an ethereal, glittering canvas

Emanating a shimmering glow

A glimmering echo of human lives

From millions of people I’ll never know

However, my relief at reaching land

Is rapidly replaced

By a strange rush of nostalgia

As I realize how much distance I’ve displaced

Which makes my heart feel slightly empty

As I soar far away from home

Because it suddenly occurs to me

That I couldn’t be more alone

And as I peer out of my little portal

I’m just a tiny face in a deep dark sky

Gazing out of an airplane window

Watching this new world pass me by.

[mugspoetry]

Communicate

Never underestimate what a difference it makes

To see how someone’s doing

Just to check if they’re okay

To gently and unobtrusively 

Make yourself a part of someone’s day

It really doesn’t take much

Just a message here and then

Be it through text, email or facebook

Perhaps even taking out some paper and a pen

It’s actually just the fact that you’re thinking of them

Which shows them that you’re here, and that you’re a friend

And although to you it might mean nothing

Taking only a mere minute from your day

In the form of a quick and scrambled message 

Perhaps just some hastily scribbled words

You will never truly realise just how much it means

To someone who is hurt

To them it could change everything

You could be a voice they really needed to have heard

Because,

Believe it or not,

People are lonely

People are broken 

People are struggling,

They’re anxious and confused

And even if they seem strong on the surface

Inside they might be bruised

So make the extra effort

To reach in and hold out a hand

In the form of a simple text

Which, with just a few easy lines

Could provide someone with an anchor on which to rest

And a metaphorical shoulder on which to lean

A way for them to lay their head 

Upon someone’s soothing chest

A literal safe harbour 

For someone who’s depressed

Because I can assure you 

That there will be a time in your life

When you’re alone and far away

When you’re feeling down and out

When your walls have all caved in 

And you’re being crushed by self-doubt

And you will wish that someone, somewhere

Would reach in with something kind to say

And gently make themselves 

A part of your today.

[mugspoetry]

A Logical Argument

When I’m arguing x

Then let me argue x

Don’t turn it into b

Or force it into z

Don’t assume that it’s m

Or pretend that it’s t

Don’t listen to reply

Don’t take a biased stance

Don’t try resort to ad hominem’s

As if we’re in some duelling dance

Don’t insidiously try and strawman me

By attacking what I haven’t said

And try refrain from interrupting me

Just because you’re seeing red

And please, most of all

Don’t knee jerk emotionally

By raising your voice and shouting

In a display of irrationality

Just listen to my x

And first understand the point I’m trying to make

And then you can disagree with me

By pointing out my mistake

Because if you show me respect

And listen to what I have to say

Then I will gladly do the same for you

These are the simple rules we must obey

As it allows me to introduce my x

And build up my argument for you

Meaning that you’re now fully equipped

To reply with your own view

And if you show me how x is wrong

With proof that y is the better view to hold

Then I will gladly change from x to y

By accepting the better argument that you’ve sold

Because my views are always malleable

As there is seldom a single right or wrong

And all you need to do is show to me

That your argument holds strong

And if your y trumps z

Then y is what I’ll be

As I try to always follow logic

And rationality

And in the hardline cases

Where we’re truly at a stalemate

Where neither side can budge

Because both views hold equal weight

Then we can just agree to disagree

Or perhaps find common mutual ground

Instead of devolving into a fight

Where we must try and win ‘the round’

And I wish that everyone

Would argue in this way

No space for immaturity

Where you just loudly have your say

If only everyone would listen

Before calmly stating their reply

Imagine how the world would function

And how much better we’d all get by

As there would be no venom

No need to win ‘the fight’

No blind resort to yelling

To prove who’s wrong or right

Instead it’s just two arguments

Being measured side by side

By two clear thinking individuals

Using logic as their guide

So next time someone comes along with x

Whilst you’re there holding to your y

Let them first fully state their case

Before you try reply

Because when you know their argument in its entirety

Then you’re in a far better position to respond

And if along the way you realise that their points are better

Then you can always claim that you agreed with them all along!