A couple of poems from the book:
One failure of perfect symmetry
One obstruction of selfish ambition
One reception of heedless cruelty
So, my flaws, almost flaunted, show above the parapet
One perfect performance, always a take away
One daggered narrative, sharpening resolve,
One infatuation with romantic fiction
So, words unleashed, show their fury puncturing my soul
One story, jumbled by eager headliners
One picture, smudged beyond belief,
One truth, turned backwards by prying eyes
So, my tongue, trapped by discretion, tastes the bitterness of silence.
A Far Cry
I can still hear you.
Hidden in the shadows of injustice
Taken by relentless waves of oppression
Overlooked through commercial expediency
Trampled by democratic manipulation
Caught up in monogamous trade delegations
Ignored by nationalistic self interest
Struck down by religious bigotry
Pushed aside by unscrupulous money merchants
Sidelined by monocle’d visionaries
Exploited by hit and run tourists
Conned by the patronism of well wishers
Stepped on by horse blinkered developers
Saturated by sanctimonious clichés
Annihilated by the reality of isolation
It’s a far cry from where I’m standing now.
But I can still hear you.
(From my days working in some of the poorest locations on earth
with the organisation I founded: Soapbox Expeditions)