Zanze: Green & Yellow

Green and yellow fields, well maintained
by animals contained within.
The produce of the field sustains;
the plight of man and beast akin.

Green and yellow fields; well
do their crops grow each year,
but for them trees are fell.
The way ahead seems clear.

Green and yellow;
colours of life,
mostly mellow.
Sickness and strife;

Green and
growing. Remain
the order of the land;
green and yellow fields well maintained.


Zanze: Under Your Skin

Under your skin, those blue-ish veins
The blood flowing through them contains
A protein with four iron atoms
It has been this way since Adam

Under your skin, those blue
Lines of iron run through
Iron made in the heart
Of a dying star, it’s end your start

Under your skin,
And from the stars
It travels far

Unique couture
Your body, grown, contains
Under your skin those blue-ish veins


Zanze – That Shirt

That shirt is louder than my laugh
Which really is saying something
Your style as divisive as math
And effortlessly disgusting

That shirt is louder than
Anything I have seen
You just don’t give a damn
Ignoring any mean

That shirt is loud
And you don’t care
You stand so proud
As people stare

That shirt
A telegraph
To just ignore the hurt
That shirt is louder than my laugh


Zanze: What is?

What is it that you want from life?
To be free from indecision;
Or children, a husband, a wife.
Free to choose without derision.

What is it that you want?
Don’t make me keep asking.
Why would you rather flaunt,
A past with no action.

What is it that,
Keeps you awake;
Makes you pick at
Each small mistake?

What is,
Your cause of strife?
You need to remove this.
What is it that you want from life?


Zanze – Create

For I create, therefore I am
Infinite possibility
This existence is my exam
The test of my ability

For I create, therefore
I am as I have been
Life calls you can’t ignore
The sights that you have seen

For I create
The world around
And demonstrate
That I have found

For I
Give not a damn
I continue to try
I create, therefore I am.


Zanze: Ready or Not

I do not think I am ready
Yet still I find myself doing
Finding balance, left unsteady
A bite too much, still I’m chewing

I do not think I am
Living true to myself
Giving all that I can
My time. My Life. My Health.

I do not think
But I react
Words said, the brink,
I can’t retract.

I do
My part already
And will till I am through
I do not think I am ready.


Zanze: Scream

Scream like no-one is listening
Cry like no-one will ever see
The way you feel is exhausting
And is all you will ever be

Scream like no-one listens
You will hear no answer
Like dew on grass glistens
A lost back-up dancer

Scream like no-one
Before you has
Once you’ve begun
You’ll learn to laugh

Scream like
A bird whistling
As it takes wing to strike
Scream like no-one is listening


Zanze: Money

Money. It makes the world go round,
or so I’ve heard some people say;
But it does not grow from the ground
poor people work hard for poor pay.

Money. Makes the world go,
crazy that we let it.
It can’t make the grass grow,
But we can’t forget it.

Money. The world
Do foolish things;
a path unfurled
for flightless wings.

Pennies and pounds;
Because nothing is free.
Money. It makes the world go round.


Free Verse: My Hands Look Older

I looked at my hands,
And they looked older
Than I remembered
Ever seeing before.

The skin is looser, colder.
The veins underneath,
The surface
Of a thinner flesh,
More visible and pronounced.

Where once the pages
Of this book were blank,
Now I find them
With marks,
Where the story of my life
Has already been recorded.

The book is not yet filled,
Far from it.

But here I was
Wondering when
I would be ready
To finish waiting
For my life to begin,

Only to realise
It already had.


Zanze: Déjà Vu

All of my mornings start the same

As all others have come before.

Before I have time to complain,

I have already been ignored. 


All of my mornings start

Before I am ready;

I try to play my part

And keep myself steady.


All my mornings

Will slowly drift.

Despite warnings,

This low won’t lift.


All my

Failings I blame,

On desire not to try.

All of my mornings start the same.



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