Wet stones.

Sleep creeps, away

demons reason all day

draw the crawl, delayed play

recall what the crows say

to alleviate the serration of lunar rays

tidal waves, cliffs to caves of oceans paved

for tomorrows on its way

just when the shattered bedrocks, scatter in their decay.

Resistance is futile.

Deafness a death wish

of all coherence missed

where ill conceived words persist

insist with no reason to exist

letters, just shapes used by a lone ritualist

easily dismissed, ease is the cease-and-desist

to resist, is a broken open split wrist.

Sub-gain.

Cloud blazed with mortal rage

mounds raised spitting heated rain

cities razed by rocks engulfed in flames

for here lies the left festered brain

in all it's glory, in all it's pain

never alive, never lived, though destiny is death

again, again.

hRidden affliction.

Release, a piece 

believe, for peace

defeat, a fleet

retreat, for sleep

relief, concrete

grief repeats.

Fuck it;)

Word smith an unintelligent gun smith

power lives, in the sound between your lips

so girls bend your hips

just jokes so, Netflix and chill, I know I'm a dick

but my brain is quick, yes, I'm talking about the second 

the third eye, the third leg with a permanent bend

proof that my grip is tight, thats right go all day and night

smiley face with a wink, gun cock blast messed up my sight

a gun-shy glass eye drip-dried, a cross-eyed guy thats hard to come by.

Words be descriptive, all the way from porn to bible scriptures

forced actions are restrictive which causes reactions that are vindictive.

So just do what's true, whatever that means to you.

"Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves." James 1:22

A small poem about a brief game called, Life.

Inevitable, all life's edible

boxing boxes, trapped in, nothings not credible

everything, nothing, neither's legible

pawns born, boarded between three dimensional angles

drifting pieces that rest, dreaming in cradles

'till one by one they vanish, to the unescapable.

The quest of life, be ever fatal.

Blind spots.

Face to face, grin to grin
all in an attempt to hide what's within.

Hide your hide to betray behind
rocked jokes aside for an inlaid landslide.

Offside rules applied, no ones onside
disallowed inside game signs
placed at every block, for every cells fried.

Dug holes.

Say hi, say bye

gone, gone, gone

say hello, say with sorrow

dig, dig, dig

say a lie, say rise

down, down, down

say hi, say bye, alone to die.

Rising of the living dead.

The dead are rising
unsurprising is their uprising
for every night they come out biting
everyday I can hear them deeply writhing
in their grave, at home they continue surviving
for them the potential of life, is forever enticing.

Dead thoughts are conniving, interior designing, redefining
where anticipation of their arrival, coming out climbing, nocturnally dining 
just creates a smile thats disguising.

Counting time.(1,2.1,2.)

Every second second is a break
in-between, below a frozen lake
sacrifice wants for goodness sake
and soul for soul, eternity will make.

It was simple but o' so complex
short-term is short, that's a heartfelt regret
not to be found wanting in worth of the bet
be mindful, too full to recognize the time the clock is set.

Every second second, there's a break

where the heart recounts the thoughtful mistakes.

Still.

Open-source, soul enforced

solo forced, cold endorsed

blizzards torch, still remorse.

Just a laugh.

Fast paced drama 

of the slow bursts of karma

just learn to laugh like llamas

and you'll be much calmer.

"But I feel like death"

so call the embalmer

just learn to hold your breath

and soon you'll be at rest,

or you'll be under arrest

either way you'll be given something to digest.

Blurred signs.

A cosmic void 

a stretched umbilical cord

a clouded vision, eternally stored

blindingly wishing for Gods applause

laughingly missing the lighted course 

that's heavenly endorsed.

D.N.YOU.A

Honour thy name for thy code pains

like none other, taking no other lanes

playing no games with what flows in my veins

blooded stains, a wash cloth telling my blame

drains marked a scarlet hue of what will never be new

the same old story retold in a thousand rows

for my D.N.A is the only story that I'll ever need to know

though to splice is the spice of life to stop me returning below.

Openly shut in.

Open eye schemes 

closed eyes dream

gleamed beauty unseen

blind perfection freed

a homage to a masterpiece, I've yet to perceive.

Hearts of gold.

Gold watch what gold rots

sold guts, a rich construct

blind lectures to blind protectors

of the festered rot of a thickened plot

of an unexpected shock to awe their flock

an educated wolfs den beside the chickens pen

cascading eyes to a miniscule, bountiful prize

to bare witness to the shallow well paid fitness

of glamorous presenters with camera-shy adventures

with the wannabe famous, do anything not to be fameless

to headline press for the junkies to assess to give profit to the bereft.

"Oh boy, what a mess"

GOD: exit stage left.

Hollow night.

Water drops against glassed panes

precipitation, slow evaporation of names

of their hollow observation of our reign

the tidal planes of what looks the same

darkness keeps the true arrival unframed

for against the rain the whole world seems hazed

alien is the well known fame, a masterpiece turned plain

the causality of the moon lit stains and all those that came

for the knowledge of the night is deeply ingrained 

yet it makes us blind to what has already been claimed

a lunar eclipse of the life that remains, and all that can be gained.

Shrivelled fear.

Death was promised 

life was shrouded in mists

a mystery of all that is

makes it hard to resist

like children with candles making a wish

naïve to the fire, the burns and all the liars

closed eyes innocence of simplified ignorance

displayed in the ambitions of those held with significance

fighting fears of impotence rendering them insufficient

stimulated maintenance of the ambivalent polygamist

learnt fears of what will be missed 

a child's plaything in all its magnificence 

to their seeded version of grown omnipotence.

To the game I'll stay insolent

as a non-instrumentalist lyricist.

Home away.

I rose, a rose, no not on my road

just squashed bugs where I rode

ice cold, I froze life's home

in an ice cone to refresh my soul

and it stole, away, from my bones.

In death may we part.

There you are in the dark recesses of my mind

can't shake the danger signs, for dark edges shine

the insignificant lines of all that is mine

remembered only by time in this labyrinth run mine

in which I recline.

May death make me blind.

Mirror Image.

Laying firm, youthly with scarred burns

six foot of cover, deep below any concern

this only I know, for I gave his family an ash filled urn

because for him they seemed to yearn 

asking unanswerable questions in turns

so 'him' I returned.

Knock knock. Hear me, I'm still alive

somehow I survived my oxygen deprived demise

slept in a fiery disguise, then in this claustrophobic dark I was revived

to my surprise that these hollow roots slowly carried air inside.

His voice is clearly recognized though his face I could barely describe

and in every mirror I see the place that he resides, subsides.

Smokey the dragon.

I'm not a killer but I'll murder the planet 

and all that breathe upon it

eruption of political voices is nothing if not volcanic.

The inner fire burns with every outward step that's planted

consumed by the light that every sight is morbidly enchanted.

Look around at all the fodder for their cannons

the righteousness of life is constantly re-examined

against the right, the less and all the famine

the wars, the torn and all the lands left barren.

I'm honest with the heat, you just blame the smoke screened dragons.

Eye to eye.

Eye openly precedes the eye that closingly dreams

the eye that exceeds declared a creed, to which I agreed.

This is like this and that is that, why can't I rewrite

what the appetite means, I'll recite the heart and not take the bite

write impolite, bounce 'em off satellites, be my own no copyright

a playwright of the fight to ignite the nighted light of ones open sight.

Farming music.

Regurgitation of animalistic rage

bleated beats of the broken cage 

G.O.A.T's goaded to monetary fame

old MacDonald had a farm, full of pain.

The greatest are the voices in the dark

the calm in the storm, not the smart witted remarks

nor are they minors mining for gold just to fill their carts

their the unmarked hallmarks, silently fighting for a fresh peaceful start

they deserve better then ill spilled bars pushing up charts

old MacDonald had a farm, to which they played no part.

Infight.

Comatose mind, its unthinkable

open eye dreams that's unblinkable

a presentable pupil, that's visual

to peer no peers, like their invisible

mentally filled in graves now the pit is full 

that's pitiful, of dreams believed fictional

the inhospitable brain that came divisible

demonic monsters take control, its almost mythical

food for thought they become nutritional, medicinal

the unforgivable, the immiscible, is conditional 

that I'm the original, the individual ever quizzical

against the inner satanic rituals.

Monkey see, monkey do.

 

Monkey see keep up with monkey do

tree to tree, to branch the branch of deja vu

swing the swings to influence their world view.

Explore, abhorred, an outcasted detour

the obscure, the 'impure', where strength is truly stored

the ability to endure the normalised manure

to be the opposable that secures the right to open doors

the difference that helped, to ensure our reign henceforth.

Empty canvas.

Canvas waiting patiently 

emptily stood so aimlessly

silently it speaks of its vacancy

spaciously aware of its specialty

graciously lacking complacency

so blamelessly pure in its naivety.

Dreaming?

I dream of dreaming since my sleep is dark

I dream of the light from the very first spark

I dream of the life from whence time was marked

I dream of the end, the potential of a fresh start.

I dream of dreaming, though I'm blinded to the art.

Say nothing.

Vortex texts of a stormy end, puddle drowned

dressed in a watery crown and deaths gown

yet still the body walks aground, unfound

a sentence for the downed, eternally bound.

Translation is nowhere around

spoken word, without sound

a poem without the noun

a demonetised impound,

lost among the found.

Walking sideways.

Realization that fascination is only on the horizon

never close to hand, only over there and rising

like the sun, until it sets and the mind is only set on surviving

a night, a night with the directional glow of the maps lighting

the path to the mountain shining like gold, beyond the lightning

weathered blinding storms that left the innocence frightened

where no more is recited, no more is inviting, no more hiking

time like rope its binding, tightening till the here and now is the only sighting

and fascination like faith, is the only thing that's heightened.

Re-minded.

Corner sounds of thoughts read aloud

a map of numerous clouds and unmarked ground

a birds eye view of nests the cuckoo's flew

while below the worms grew to snakes of nothing new

and the apple trees bleed the knowledgeable dew of what was you

as the pictures die, a darkened hue, to retell the stories you never knew.

Life's key.

I shared a drink with the Devil, from the skulls of the dead

whiskey and blood soaked our lips as we kissed the decapitated heads

as we hollowed them out once more, we each shared a look and he said.

We both know what all this gore was for, for its the only way the doors are drawn

from where all the wandering souls are called, so do like me and drink some more.

For the first time I saw his drunken sorrow, the blame of today as God gifts tomorrow.

He then refilled our defaced mugs, his head hung low looking to the bottom of his fleshless cup

I turned to see all the bodies piling up behind him, all without his touch

so I asked. Is this all a setup, a coverup. 

I saw him smile as he explained, that we each have our roles 

2 faces of the same coin, isn't how eternity rolls

for we're all the same beyond the door and times the keyhole

and your sharing a drink with me, because of that key you hold.

Brain dead.

Play the music loud, to whisper their sound

for they bark a cage fit for a hound so proud

with shackles and chains they stand pillar bound

to the neuronic poisonous roots of such renown

to pray a prayer for them to be crowned with ground 

and rest silently beneath a hallowed burial mound.

Never lost, never found, forever around.

Time will pass.

Anguished bellows from the shallow gallows

with a circling disgusted hooded fellow, who crows follow

choking the restraints of the living baits 

for whom the trap doors do swallow

for those who gave up on a new tomorrow

for those who saw a crowd of hate 

and saw nothing but strength to borrow

for those dangling the short rope, short on hope

kept down low, for whom time grows slow

for the solo artisans in their darkened studios

the ones who refuse to go with the flow of the status quo

even though, the knotted cables is the only gift difference bestows.

I'm not ill.

The flowers the seeds, the tumble and the weeds

the grown trees and the falling leaves 

the disappearing reeds wave in the murky seas

ash cascades an atomic breeze of a blistering disease

skin melts a skeletal strip-tease of scientific expertise

otherworldly pleas as Earthlings flee.

You see, there's nothing wrong with me. 

I'm pill.

 Little problem solver, liquid dissolver

a symptomatic revolver, a social four leaf clover

a defrocked loner, a crowded cloner

singular power rolled over, a new trick for Rover.

Boxed in.

Hidden depths, a concealed Loch Ness

monstrous myths to lock the deep from guests

where I lie at rest, awaiting reanimation,  and my lie's did the rest 

for only one, maybe, deserves the honest confession of what's suppressed

A hidden package labelled with no address and that Pandora was just a test

an open chest is what was left, closed it with fables written in a chaotic mess

spilled stationary, white noise tells my vision echoing the static in which I am dressed

crackling a cackling witch to band aid the broken ribs, though I was left with less flesh

her true identity is but a guess, in blood she was blessed 

and in blood I boxed all that wasn't faith bereft

buried it below, written with a cautionary tale and no address.

Framed works.

Clouds drowned the eternal spectre

written suffocation of internal fractures

of right vs selfish, internal weathered lectures

aided by the protected projector of idle ventures.

Aerated soul for infinite spectators 

gasping the verse of laceration makers 

Van Gogh's ear to the conscientious narrator

a picturesque show outlaying, the being of, ones static nature.

It's just two words.

Shut the doors for the sake of nightly claws

and shut the doors from a knightly cause

I get the fear from the rushing boars

but it's clear, division is a distraction for the poor

Amen is greeted with pause discounting the source

of what people do to people with fatal force

hidden until the profitable message can be endorsed

to split the populace with prepaid walls

to quell the call of humane jaws

for voicing that human rights is already written into law.

melancholy melody.

Those tuneful tones keep hitting that lazy bone

still keep on coming, with uncountable loads 

walking upon those unchartable roads 

snowing the invisible tracks, while reciting the cold

greeting their Yeti with story's old

imaginatively retold, from the people that froze

for that lonely road was invaded by princely toads

telling their silver lining, how their legs have grown 

everyday they ribbit the ribbit, echoing false gold

moaning by the fire that their yeti's have turned trolls

yet they brag upon the people and turn them to polls

a statistic from which they mould 

pricing up the message each time the story gets retold.

Censorshipped.

Solo slit, ripped to a satanic drip

watch the flow, out as blade slips

stretched skin, sneakily split

ill leadership taking ownership

of a sociopaths script, skin unzipped

tighten the grip to a lost membership

and, that's it. 

This is where I draw the line, to keep these hands ill-equipped.

Grey days.

Hollow points to the open chest

wall shackled with this eternal rest

slowly drift away, vacantly possessed

silently look up for a selfish request

aimlessly addressed, as the bullets suppressed.

A world away, a whole world decays

slowly makes way to a hole on display

each day it replays, 'pon a screen painted grey.

Ridge beside troubled waters.

River wide, what do hold inside

is it life or death that presides in 

try to dive in but guarded, Poseidon

stood sided, what are you hiding

why is it only dry dirt that I'm finding

is this defining, or is it just your lining.

Frozen.

Hollow flask, a lethargic mask

ripped clothes, barely dressed

time slowed, self repressed

internal abode written in odes

outwardly cold, as stories corrode.

To Beauty.

Infinite reach of imaginations range 

could never predict the presence to enact such change

but here you are to fuel the flame

and rest your embers upon each page

to heat this heart from its frozen cage

for to procure just one word I had to endure such pain

and through it all I barely remained 

though through it all, I'd do it again

because beauty, I now know your name.

Explanation.

Listen up I'll only say this a thousand times

barking, I'm talking, it's just the hounds I mime

the loud mouth of a shy child that likes to rhyme

so I fed him with words but the grown man snorted the lines

he overdosed and from the casket I arose, smelling of pine

the words are for him, the lines are his and the verse is mine

with a collection born from a mind stuck on rewind.

Silently I dream a dream of something free

the cost is great but the boundaries I can't see

rain pours and the fog rolls in, still I can see that it's only me

with room for another and that will always be 

so sshhh, let me sleep before the reaper finds the key. 

Open eye.

Thoughts are pacing, racing

I against I, demonic faces 

theses eyes I've maced 'em 

with venom I've laced 'em 

mentally I've encased 'em

with salt water I've drenched 'em

now I'm blinded to face 'em

sorry I'm dyslexic, I mean I'm blinded to face me

I've become my favourite henchman

sorrow and regret, I've forever benched him.

Open book I've sung those hymns

open book I've given in to sin

open book I know where I've been 

open book, I can dream.

An exhibition of my expedition.

Everything I owe, given no question 

as long as these words aren't wasted, you're there to listen

and forever after ever there we'll be, with souls risen

for now you should know your my only genuine vision

it happened quick, instant ignition, and to this world I became one of the missing

to find truth within this mental prison is my only mission 

like food for thought you give me nutrition 

you take care, my own personal physician 

everyday the same, benevolent repetition.

Within these words there is no proposition 

I just hope you find some recognition 

like a mirror within someone else's optical expedition.

The climb.

I'm on auto-pilot, kamikaze, I'm going down 

free-falling, awaiting the parachute of your laugh.

No idea what I'm jotting, my thoughts are loud

speaking aloud, grounded, 'pon beauty I crash.

I to eye, pupil teaching student, wanting I'm found

lips curl up to show ascensions path.

And the climb gladly takes everything I have. 

The seeker.

 Heart grows as stones thrown.

Heart moans with changing tones.

Soul groans with eternal woes.

Bodys alone with aching bones

dwelling in coves, looking for home.

Redefining.

Energising the lack of conservation

ache the pain of idle observation

a pre-requisite to the hated heated conversations

yes this is just my exposition

but x marks the position of someone else's expedition 

right or wrong my mistakes are plain, free from omission

'till the final curtain, mortician, a funeral home with no musicians

guests list is the local militia, free from religion, trespassing their jurisdiction.

This is my final disposition, through bloodshot vision

before this becomes, my final definition.

The Smile.

The curl of heaven 

leaves me wanting, begging

the sensitive touch is the Devils blessing

to quench such thirst is lives only lesson

how else to describe such perfection

to graze such beauty, a biblical transgression

so revenant in your celestial expression.

So smile and tell me its true and you forgive the question

that you believe me when I say I'm ever thankful its, forever in your possession.

Flicker.

Flicker little light

fickle to be bright

enlighten the old sickle

and the little boy it crippled.

Stuck in the middle inability to mingle

cried the tears, to fill this thimble

covered it for a flask to be a refreshing symbol

and through this it became more precious then your crystal.

So flicker little light and enlighten the grown man and his pistol.

I was marked a complicated case, that I just made simple.

Heart can't stop.

 

Heart grips, soul strips 

heart rips as soul hits.

Can't still, thoughts ill

can't drills into thoughts filled.

 

Stop inside, here subsides

stop rewind as here declines.

Gift from God.

Blank page awaiting an outsider, on side, to fill

to give contents to ignite the static still

an outward mind to write momentum instilled

and the presence of a present looking for the until

is proof of another's previously drawn, mental will.

What is?

Concealment is the final push towards a cannibalistic meal

I mean treatment for camouflage is treatment unreal

popping pills ain't thrills, I'm mind blown, it's all already too surreal

trapped in someone else's film night, please 'o please, change the reel

horror the drama of the infight to forever be one of the un-kneeled

watching you spin for fortune, I'm off reading the prayer wheel 

limited shows to a timeless regurgitated ideal

I remain open fearing being forever concealed.

knowing the unseen is often, the only thing that stays real.

Shipwrecked.

I've got perverted minds feeling me up from below,

look dear, for you, nothing but my anger grows

leave you Roe-ing down shits creek, so paddle Doe

cast away quick, from under circling crows.

Living in Noah's bestiality ark with Does and Sows

whining retarded oinks looking for the salted blows

and I'm supposed to be embarrassed 'cos I can't take these loads

throw you overboard for a useful, w, anchor to search for roads

and turn this game of debauched Poker into Origami, like fuck it, I fold.

Soul, low.

Can't feel the feet below as I fall

Can't feel the air, nor hear it rush at all

can't feel the fear of the inevitable floor

can't feel the anger from the push out of the door

can't feel the tears as, I, eyes pour the roar.

I can't feel the feeling of fearing no more.

Cockroaches.

Inked deranged lines years in development

keep reading your getting closer, ha, feint

he's a nice hopeful guy, almost a normal saint 

flip it and write with grit teethed salivating hate

listen for the second guess, the upstanding debate

and this heart's sealed, laminate encased, as clear viewed bait

to entice the only fate I know, remembrance, mental derangement

mindful rearrangement, living high though I sleep in the basement

a sleeping bag with the zip on the outside, my anxious management

strapped chest, brain a neuronic mess, mindless is my moronic nest

feeling below I can write with a hint of jest for cockroaches make nice guests

turn the light on they leave, hide no seek, I'm at my best

so god bless this mess, it's just too bad that in the dark they pest.