Deserted and abandoned youth

Choose certain death and ostracism
Exile self-imposed; ‘tradition’
Loss of home and family
Born of faith’s supremacy

So young, with minds not fully fed
In fear of first missteps, unled
Some seek to live by others’ rules
And hope to never have to choose

While those whose choice was thrust upon
Unwary shoulders, far too young
Have just enough experience
To recognise their own good sense

And knowing that some errors will
Occur despite intentions, still
Are less afraid to persevere
And build the life they want right here.

Though actions have their aftermath
There is no righteous, clear-cut path
Please do not fear all consequence
Change is not dangerous; though dense

And unenlightened elders may
Feel life no longer goes their way
As age and distance emphasise
The loss of youth before sad eyes

Unready to relinquish reins
To those in throes of growing pains.
Decisions to abandon trust
Give up hope and freedoms; lust

For life of lesser contemplation
Out of social obligation;
Turn to ends more violent
Ignore suggestions, kindly meant

And quick condemn all other views –
Is this the path you wish to choose?
Consider this, before you do
For truly, this choice rests with you:

Such suicide invites abuse
Of others that may follow blood
For love, for family, for feud
Will throw themselves away; – jihad

In mourning for those gone before
Their minds made waste, still immature
And more than one will idolise
The first to die – if death you prize

Above the life you hold in hand
So understand, if you have planned
To be the martyr for your tribe
And leave the others still alive

The minute you take up this course
Imagining rewards; Firdaws
You lose control of what is shown
And once you’ve gone, the whole thing’s blown:

With ashes scattered over sand
Your image will be used to brand
Misinformation into truth –
Deserted and abandoned youth.

Dish of the day

Piping hot, served on a big, silver platter
With pristine white linen in case it should splatter

Serving suggestion: try holding your nose
(It can be quite fragrant when fresh off the stove)

A gentle reminder – you may burn your tongue
On sauce with such condiments, thickened and mum

Though some find it bitter, you might like the taste
So try not to let what you’ve bought go to waste

It’s strange and exotic, the critics all say
But you ordered The Truth – it’s our dish of the day.

Nighttime conversations

Sometimes I talk to spirits that come in while I’m asleep.
It must get lonely as a ghost, quite often they will weep.
But others tell me stories of far-off distant lands.
Of things they did while of the earth; how life is hard to plan.
I listen to adventures, hear books I’ve never read,
But somehow upon waking this gets trapped inside my head.
It’s hard to talk to people – they rarely want to hear.
Some smile and nod, but mostly they just run away in fear.
When young, I used to wonder why all adults told lies.
They’d swear to me they couldn’t see what’s right before their eyes.
But now as I grow older, I understand their fear –
If they admit they see them, then they must exist, my dear.
And if, in truth, these beings are trapped here once they’re gone –
Perhaps in time we too will share their fate, go on and on.
Yet still it seems a pity, with wisdom they could share,
To tell us not to trust our ears and eyes, or ‘talk to air’.

Cheer Up!

A goldfish bowl, I live within
And gaze out on the world.
At people who pass by, I grin,
Though they act quite absurd.
I know they see me, yes indeed
For oft I catch their eye,
And yet they will not smile back
What do you fear? I cry.
I wonder at these silly folk
Who spend their day a-scowl.
What use is that? I’ll share a joke,
There’s no need to be foul!
I hope each time I see you
That for you things have improved;
Look forward to our meeting
When you’re in a better mood.