Back Yard

They key to happiness is in your own back yard to seek
But here I am so far away and feeling quite content
Perhaps the truth is each of us is totally unique
And one idea of happiness is not what others meant
My happiness I know is just for me to think about
Although I feign an interest in what others have to say
Suppose my own solution just ensures I have no doubt
I’ve always been particular preferring my own way
So I would say the key for me is keeping my life plain
Not many plans or grand designs to cause undue distress
I live each day without the future looming in the main
And when there’s only me is when my life is at its best
In solitude I travel never lonely just alone
The traveller with no back yard who’s made the world his home

Space

My inner space so when did you appear
Intruder uninvited on my plane
For lonely gripped my fingers in your sphere
Your angle’s not conducive to my aim
A vacuum mother nature does abhor
But I am not your mother little boy
And you plus me’s not what my line is for
So I’ll divide and leave remainder joy
Subtracting you negates the need to cry
The algebra of love’s insanity
My x will never equal, don’t ask why
We shoud not meet until infinity
An integer still single in my prime
What matters is I have my space in time

White House Blues

They want to turn the White House blue
It seems a little odd
A pointless empty thing to do
But I must not complain
To raise awareness of my plight
My mind was touched by god
A gift, a curse, a second sight
That makes life less mundane
I live upon a spectrum broad
I’m at the gifted end
They say my mind is somewhat flawed
But I think I am fine
The gifts I have are quite unique
And messages I send
May not contain the truth you seek
And narrowly define
But if you deal in absolute
And miss the filigree
Your view becomes a little moot
A cudgel that you beat
Pedantic or just very clear
The detail devils me
So listen if you want to hear
A voice that’s quite discreet
Your house it can be any shade
Of red or white or blue
Respect the way that I am made
Is all you have to do

Wrong End

An extrovert a people kind of guy
But you will not deliver that I see
You cannot even look me in the eye
And situations end so awkwardly
Pedantic but you seem as if your bright
It’s such a shame how you refuse to fit
Annoyingly you often get things right
But home for you is wrong end of the stick
A syndrome on a spectrum did you say
Apparently not every one’s the same
And when you do a task another way
It isn’t right that I should judge and blame
And you believe you’re just as good as me
An equal simply thinking differently