Little white balls on a hill.
Little white balls are my pills.
Little white balls in the sky.
Little white balls believe they can fly.
Little white balls on the sea.
Little white balls in her tea.
Little white balls in the night.
Little white balls blind my sight.
But your little white balls were not turned on,
And because of you, she is now gone.
© Peter Troughton
Mistah Blue stops my car,
Comes to a halt on the tar.
Mistah Blue opens his door,
Spits his gum onto the floor.
Mistah Blue knocks on the window,
I begin to roll it down low.
Mistah Blue gives me a smile.
Points his finger at my dial.
Mistah Blue writes a fine,
Asks if I’ve had any wine.
Mistah Blue hands it over,
Winks and says I am not sober.
Mistah Blue takes my green,
Now my fine will not be seen.
Mistah Blue drives away,
Happy that he got his pay.
© Peter Troughton
Little friend do you see me?
I am the flower on the tree.
Will you butter-flutter your way over here,
On the tide of fresh summer’s air?
Flutter-butter
Come nice and close
Butter-flutter
Come help me grow
Flutter-butter
My nectar is sweet
Butter-flutter
Please notice me
Petals of pink and wings of fire,
Oh flutterby please do admire.
You need me
And I need thee.
Butter-flutter
Flies right on by
Flutter-butter
Into the sky
Butter-flutter
If I don’t catch your eye
Flutter-butter
My species will die
Flutterby lands on daisies and roses,
The kinds of flowers meant for posers.
Sweet yellow bee,
Notices me.
“Don’t go away” I softly say,
My new little friend for a while will stay.
Flutterby, flutter on by,
Goodbye old butterfly.
© Peter Troughton
Hands shaking
Heart aching
Am I mistaken?
Darkness surrounds me
Like tides of the sea
What do they carry?
Words botching
Vision blotching
Are they watching?
A screaming banshee
Is what my thoughts will be
Will I find the key?
Mind shaken
Knees quaking
Am I waking?
Fear is plenty
My hair is messy
Am I empty?
Is it growing
or
Is it going?
Will I finally be free?
© Peter Troughton
Car upon car everywhere
Smog clouds gathering in the air
Little icebergs melting for good
Burning all the Amazon’s wood
No more coal in the ground
In our lungs it can be found
Big and small go extinct
We don’t even stop to blink
All around the planet dies
Our leaders and teachers tell us lies
“Climate change is fake”
…
For goodness sake
The Earth is just about ready to bake
© Peter Troughton
I type
*click clack*
I type away
I type
*click clack*
My life away
I type
*click clack*
I type away
© Peter Troughton
Strawberry Milk on the side of my plate,
Strawberry Milk will never have a date,
Strawberry Milk sits alone forever,
Strawberry Milk writes a letter:
Goodbye dear world
Goodbye sweet home
I may have been lonely but I was never alone
I had my friends
I had my foes
Now the sorrow within me grows
It is not a whimper
It is not a bang
It is not yin
It is not yang
Down this quiet lane
Lies a great disdain
Which mirrors my soulful pain
It is my burden
It is my bane
To wash away amidst the rain
My time is short
Was it for nought?
They spilled my inners and did not cry
So here I finally wait to die.
© Peter Troughton
Beauty falling down
Falling all around
Catch it in your eyes
Before life within it dies
Beauty in the skies
Quiets a million sighs
Feel it in your hands
Slipping through like sand
Beauty is now canned
We buy it as a brand
It will not let you leave
It will not let you breathe
Does it let us grieve
the falling of the leaves?
Falling oh so slow
We must not let them go
© Peter Troughton
P.G.T. Troughton Writing 