Mathew Lewis Poems

Neon lights and ebon string,
Rock and roll makes the devil sing,
Somewhere close an angel cries,
A faulty heart, a feighned good bye.
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Snatch me up in a bundle of air,
Don’t hold too tight,
You can get lost up there.
Fame you for thinking,
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What a bitter to-fro catastrophe
Spoken cleanly on the tongue
And yet lost all the same
When the silence draws in.
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Words spill from me,
Not tip-toe but rolly-polly
Onto the floor.
But they’re two-year-olds not teens
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If we are meant to stand up,
What rebellion’s left to cry?
The dreams that we have found,
Scattered on scrap heaps
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A four wall room is one thing,
But when just your face rocks the world
How does a beating heart stay still?
When your face is etched into the sun
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A cold and meaty sky perceived through a window
Is meaningless.
Inside the pretentious glow of light and love invade
An otherwise humorless room.
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You either don’t know or can’t comprehend
The power of a pen or the pain therein.
Neither glory nor shame waits in ink,
Just words that’ll make you stop and think,
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We look for meaning in many things,
Hope for something that life might bring.

But poetry's just a bunch of words,
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Sunshine and roses and poppyseeds,
Moonlight and starbright and little leaves,
Music entwined in vacant tapestry,
Warm touch, kind eyes, all of it for free.
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