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  • Shane Richardson

Searching

Searching for the words to say.

The way we're living seems so grey;

The youth's in disarray, lost sight,

The lights are off, the darkest nights.


Tread along the train track lines,

Write and scribebreak that pencil.

Stencils, shades, shapes and bodies.

When love is lost we crave somebody.


Shake it off; the weight of wonder;

What if love is only luck for some?

Spinning round in night gowns,

With the sound of rain and busy towns.


Slow it down or smoke it out.

Drink it now or hold your peace.

Sleep alone; I miss the heat;

Pillows filled up with concrete.


A crooked neck, a broken back,

Purple eyes and longer drags

I wanna know what the fuck I'm at.




A burning yearning's building up.

Fill a cup and take a sup;

Bubbles rising with the sun.

The gun is held by trigger fingers.


Linger smoke in glass rooms

Doom is certain it's always lurking.

Life is fighting, love is hurting;

Draw the curtains, open blinds,


Read the signs, head the signals,

Mingle slow with the unknown

Crack your phone, leave your home,

Your last breath is felt alone.


Throw the stones and ripples make,

Shake and break until you're dust,

Fuck until the lust is lost;

Knowing nothing's better off.


Fight the feeling it's only time,

Spin in circles like you're flying.

Like a child, the fragile mind will soon unwind.




Piece together broken pictures;

Flickers hold sweet memories

Of bumble bees and swaying trees,

Growing seeds and falling leaves,


The reddest skies and last goodbyes,

The highs and lows of giving in.

Spoke the words and watched you grin.

Buttercup held to your chin.


Lying in to falling out.

The skies are low, the mind's a crowd

Of shaky voices yelling, "save us."

Broken thoughts are hard to tape up.


Lacing up for nine to five;

Find the drive it's deep inside.

To hide away is such a cop out.

Drop a match, watch it burn out.


How we turn out is a choice,

But poisoned minds will lead you blind.

Life is hard most of the time,

That's why I trace these silver lines.


The birds that fly across the sky

Are searching for a foreign home.

Relate to feelings seldom shown;

Maybe we're not so alone.


Tones and shades of disarray

Play across these strings and keys.

Finally my mind's at ease.

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