Snow

Snow rising over the hills,
To nourish the earthy ground
With radiant splendour,
Later to be covered in a white blanket
Fallen from the skies.

Grey dawn takes hold
While everything becomes buried,
As we look into the snowglobe
That is the world beyond
The windows of the house.

The baking sugar pavement
Lies beside the spectacular icing,
That is daubed upon
The chocolate, earthly ground.

Belching wind blows icing
All around the snowglobe.
A sugary wonderland blows past
Marshmallows skewered on sticks,
Missing only a roaring fire.

The icing sugar snowglobe
Forms the blanket around the world,
Until the roaring fire comes forth
And melts the sugar topping
Until only the cake is left.

A Train Station

Walking out into the muddled masses,
All of which are confused, lost
And panicking secretly inside themselves.
For this place is the pinnacle of decision making.
One confused slip, and you fall
Harder than you realise at first
And once you've started you cannot stop,
A confusing entrance to the train station.

Coming through the automatic doors,
And having to cut through the noxious gas
Billowing from the mouths of the mindless zombies
Who think of nothing else.
They can live in their gas, but I can't,
I'll try not to die as I brush past
The slowly decaying people standing around me,
A horrible entrance to the train station.

Passing by and suddenly noticing
The enticing aroma of Subway sandwiches.
My nose welcomes the smell,
And I am drawn towards it,
Until I am bathing in the succulent vapour
Extracted from the small building.
From across the road come angelic scents,
A comforting entrance to the train station.

Getting to the waiting room,
And just waiting for the train to arrive.
Sitting down and allowing time to simply flow
Past my head, all the while
Watching the people pass by to board their trains,
And knowing that I still have to wait
Until my train at last does come,
A boring entrance to the train station.

Rainfall

I like to saunter in the rain.
Walking outside helps me
To cast aside the fire and flame
Inside my head which do me ill.

And as I wander down the street,
I hear the sounds of the world unfold.
The metallic tones of rain
Dropping into the gutter,
And the cries of the various fauna.

As I continue my heedless journey,
I stop and think how good the rain feels on my skin.
The drops of cold water nourish me,
And begin to rouse me from my dreamworld stupor
Therefore, my problems begin to wash away
Down the gutter like the rain.

And soon enough, on my relaxing odyssey,
I come across the denizens of the village
Jogging past as the rain falls down.
I view them as insane
As they soldier on through the wind and the rain.
But are they any different from I?
For I am marching on through the damp and the cold as well,
So it would be hypocritical to call them mad.

Moving on the quiet lanes
Gives me time to reflect
On days gone by and the nature of things,
But nothing in particular.

As I stop and walk across the road,
My eyes roll over the dandelions in the fields.
Perceived by many as horrible weeds,
But I see them differently; as a flower as beautiful as any other.
Therefore I stop, pick one and journey on
Through the rain and the cold
Until I reach my destination.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car rushes past me
And at once I am drenched in the discarded tears of angels.
But I do not let this get me down
Though glum I am now, I realise there will be
Happier times for in me to dwell.
And soon enough the rain begins to quell,
And the sun breaks free from its cloudy chains,
And I realise that I am reaching my destination.

Blissful Idiocy

They live in packs
Come out at night
And waste away
Their short sweet lives
With booze and drugs
And mindless things
That do no good
But they know that
In blissful idiocy.

Posing for a selfie.
Downing a Jager bomb.
Shirts being torn off.
Puking in the toilets.
Rinse and repeat.

No common sense
Does fill the void
Between their heads
They can't be swayed
From chugging this
And downing that
And they must learn
There is no cure
For blissful idiocy.

Overhyped Facebook photos.
Drinking from two bottles.
Loud music bursting eardrums.
Stumbling and passing out.
Rinse and repeat.

Another night
With no job done
And nothing shown
But pain, anger
And tragedy
With a side of
Shameful actions
All because of
Blissful idiocy.

Obscene drawings on faces.
Staggering back home.
Crawling up the stairs to bed.
Blackouts and killer headaches.
Rinse and repeat.

Their stubbornness
It knows no bounds,
Next night the same
As last, as well
As all of them
To come from now
They do not care
They're worse for wear
There's no escape
From blissful idiocy.