Grey November Orchestra

As this modest day dawns damp
The morning light remaining dark
A symphony of silence tramps
Calm and habitually remarked

The ground adorned with sodden leaves
Skies weighed heavy with tones of grey
The stubborn wind blows empty trees
The sun seems too forlorn to play

The air feels crisp to skin left bare
Sound echoes glorious in mute
Night holds beauty for those who dare
Encounter autumnal institute

Pervasive melancholy floats
Mourning the loss of warmer days
The horizon holds the tamed sun close
Too often obscured by cloudy haze

Scents cast adrift on moistened winds
Tell stories of the wooded fells
Galloping forth unto the realms
Of cobbled streets and peeling bells

Stealthy mists traverse the ground
Consuming all found in their path
Redolent appetite abound
Until day’s age brings forth its wrath

Exhibiting veiled splendour bold
Beneath the light of moon and star
Partnered in this dance of old
The Grey November Orchestra

Ode to the Transplantee

When once a healthy body stood; proudly displaying its wares
Oblivious of all of those sickly things; for which one does well to beware

Unbeknownst to the body’s mind; its cells sometimes see fit to tire
Beginning with a discreet decline; then progressing towards straits of dire

Masquerading at times, perhaps; as far less significant ails
Cell’s decline can be hard to detect; before a vast host come to fail

Once the fashion has been set by one; a cell’s neighbours may soon join the trend
Contributing to the snowball such; that health then continues descent

Yet still, whilst many cells have failed; the mind can remain ever fooled
Believing that all is still quite alright; that good health will soon be resumed

Unfortunately then and far from the truth; cell’s damage can oft be complete
Compromising body’s organs such; to knock one right off one’s feet.

Damage is frequently permanent; with organs doomed then to fail
Never again to operate; as once they did proudly regale

With illness becoming more severe; swift treatment is an absolute must
Requiring correct diagnosis, else; the alternative catastrophic bust

Those lucky enough to find treatment, thus; to save them from such a grave fate
By no means then are guaranteed; survival at all, at this stage

Extreme aggressive treatments may come; in hopes of avoiding “the knife”
As surgery remains the last bastion, of; hope when this tale is your life

Though often with best efforts, still; a transplant’s the ultimate goal
Dependent upon the generosity of; some other serendipitous soul

Psychologically then such a challenge; knowing this altruistic bequest
Requires the passing of the generous soul; before the benefit comes to invest

Surgery itself is aggressive; though by now, often the only choice
Even then, only for the lucky ones; still fit enough to endure this course

As the trauma of such a procedure; in the Cardio Thoracic domain
Can leave one replete with weakness; an intimate acquaintance of pain

Risks aplenty confronting; those who undergo any transplant
And usually a long laboured rehab; spanning over many weeks, or months

Lifestyle changes and drug regimes; now critical for the rest of one’s life
In order to protect the new organ; to keep good health and clear of strife

Though the impact of all of these actions; cast many shadows far and wide
Transplantees must make such adjustments; to honour the organ they now hold inside

With bitter sweet thought and reflection; for new life, but the loss of one too
Forever remembered the anonymous donor; who lived life and then gave life to you

Reason for Breathing

I look inside my mind to find
A thousand things I’ve left behind
Nine hundred of which I should have said
Rather than taking them to my bed

Tossing, turning, digesting so
Incomplete thoughts thrashing to and fro
Neglecting opportunity to relax
I turn on myself and begin to attack

Dissatisfaction such a daily event
I request that my apathy, find time to repent
In order that I may once again find
Reason for breathing no longer declined

Man of Honour

Compensate my foolish pride
As time speeds past in mirth
Clutching straws to forge a path
Throughout this tainted earth

Bestill my pounding apathy
For I no longer care not to care
Resoundingly I am drowning
Craving intellectual air

Throughout this age of consequence
I contemplate a thought of thought
Who am I to dare to try?
To figure this life out

Well listen as I tell you
For I’m just another man
At times I can feel selfish
Just as any other can

Though I attempt to choose to be
The hardest thing of all
A man of honour, regardless
If that means I am destined to fall

Falling Short of Reason

Ten bells peel, weeping, whilst life slips from my reach.
In time, I have come to forget how to live.
Shake me from this stupor, as tragic, I have become.
My facsimile draws the breath that should be mine.
This crumbling façade lies strewn around my feet, yet not one soul the wiser.
Do I want this life?
Or by my actions, have I already forsaken it?
Perhaps, it has forsaken me?

I reside now, in the shell that I made for myself, when I used to dream
Long before I learned to mourn
Tired eyes awash with incredulity; hiden behind a fixed gaze
Emotionless, this face sees fit to hide me.

Imprisoned by my apathy, I fall short of reason
Seeking to find fault with life, rather than the individual
Instead I breathe the poisoned air of hatred
In turn, condemning me to further my guilt
As I seem unwilling to be me.

Yet one act of kindness can be enough to rouse me
A beam of light cutting a swathe through the darkness
I sense that my soul begins to swell, seeing fit to greet like with like.
A kindred spirit, not content to hide behind the curtain of doubt
Courageous enough to act without knowledge of reward

Yet again, I have purpose.
If just to bring positivity to the front of ones mind
Though one grain of sand is soon lost, in an ocean of doubt, as the dark envelopes this glimmer of light
My pain reaches new heights as I come to realise another is lost to the dark
I regress once more to retread my steps, well worn, as I have made this trip many times.
Oh would that you were willing to walk by my side?

WHOM

I’m the smell that lingers in an empty room
I’m the happiness, which leaves a little too soon
I’m the sound of silence, beyond the din
I’m the cold draught that manages to squeeze in
I’m the darkness that overcomes light
I am the seeker, bereft of sight
I’m the writer of this droning tome
I’m the feeling you’re never home
I’m the instigator, of questions of faith
I’m the hunger that will never abate
I’m the joker that no longer speaks
I am the prize, always out of reach
I’m the secret that is never kept
I am the tear you’ve never wept
I’m the feeling you’ve been here before
I am the arrogance that breeds war
I’m the keeper of the things you forget
I am the water that never stays wet
I’m the hole in the pocket of life
I’m the comfort on the edge of a knife
I’m the calm in the eye of a storm
I’m the soul who has yet to be born
I’m the insect you crush with your feet
I am the you, you never meet.

The Aggressive Land

The aggressive land charges the nation
To comply in forming a state
Within or without of tradition
Breeding a faction of hate

Unsuspecting victims of darkening minds
Eyes not prone to vigilance
Haunting winds speed indecision
Creating an apathetic trance

How would it be to imagine
Forming an independent thought
Escape from the parasitic machine
Relying not on false support

In a moment of deepening panic
Shall we dance on the cusp of a fall?
I am sorry for the things I have done
For I am not perfect at all

I may lack direction when pulled inside out
Do you think you know what I feel?
Look into my eyes to observe my shout
I wonder what’s left, that is real

Rip a hole in the sky to release the setting sun
Stand with me if you follow the notion
Endorse the destruction in time to come
Of the immoral blind devotion

Murder my mind by the side of the road
Leave my soul to the wastes
Scatter my honour to the seven winds
In the furthest reaches of space

I’ll be fine having aired my heart
To justify my promised words
Damage sustained collateral in part
Is par for the course I have heard?

The monster hides within us
Reaching from the pit of our mind
Devouring our good intentions
Leaving incivility behind

Pride will tear us both apart
As we seek to detect a truth of our own
If we truly value each others heart
Then we must surely behave as if one

Taking the most from the giving cup
Like the dog with perpetual thirst
Will leave the world with unbalance
Leaving us all destined for hurt

Rather that we were able
To facilitate each other’s needs
Then we’d no longer need to monopolise
This world as we try to succeed