Freedom Summer nights, Turned off the lights, As we wander through the streets. These nights, our freedom, We don’t need them. We are young and we are free. Don’t need a beacon, We’re just heathens. Don’t care as the seasons change. Won’t be defeated, We have our reasons, As we run wildly through the rain.
Oil on Canvas A pencil sketch of heaven. Scribbles black and grey Everything that’s in-between A dream of come what may Void of colour, void of feeling. Hidden eyes and hidden ears Always watching, ever seeing Void of sentiment, void of tint. The sky is dead and cold as flint Dead as this unholy land
Paradox Your soul cannot be bound To the three dimensional beings On this Earth. For anything can become Your physical reality. Stepping out of a Predetermined life. Finding the edge of the unknown And entering the void. You are, after all, the sculptor of your own reality. You in your own world, A world of
A Dark Hall You’re facing down a dark hall Voices echoing like a quiet mall Thoughts racing in the deserts of my mind, The rapid beat of the drum hammering In your ears, “you’re the only kind” Fingers pointing, guns shooting, Medication is my only vacation, One word could break me, It’s not anxiety, dusk
Sky Surfing - Gary Reddin - www.jamartprints.com
Bitter Bliss The grey clouds don’t dampen our spirits We leap out of the car Barefooted,resented by the tough tar Yet the damp soggy sand is welcoming The strenuous wind pushes us onward As the rocks leave us behind The soothing horizon grows closer As the sun parts with the day The smell of the
Untitled She sat in her room, on her bed, with her books, Saying “she missed home”, “But you are at home, darling”, her mother said “You don’t understand – Home is not a house, It’s in good friends, warm campfires and peace, yeah even in smiles. But sometimes I got the feeling it’s within ourselves…
The Pointing Game Pointed fingers whisper pointed words Behind the shield of the hand; No lines are blurred, Nothing left unheard. Pointed words snag at the leg of innocence, Innocence that was left murdered, Left torn and butchered. The heart broken and quivering. Under the grave lay shredded confidence, But those pointed hands are built
Fox Run - Lynn McPherson - www.jamartfactory.com
Create You My life feels like lies, the standards for us are set high Defining what’s considered “normal” or “weird” in this twisted society. The burden of the J.C. is completely crazy, But when you’re done its feels like you’re set free, unhinged, untethered, Like a floating feather drifting along the sky, While the days
Ideas, Hopes and Dreams Ideas, hopes and dreams come from The same place that tells me those Ideas, hopes and dreams are dumb. The doubt blossoms and consumes me. It’s something no one ever sees. The world doesn’t care. You can shed a tear, start to swear, Smash a window, break a chair. The world
Hidden Beauty What we hide behind is fake, The velvet icing on a crumbling cake. The perfect ponytail and smile, Convinced the effort is worthwhile. Trying to conform to society, Forgetting the beauty of variety. For everyone of us is unique, And should let our true selves leak. Because we are truly free to be