Hopes horizon.

No speak 

slow feet 

shallow peak

a hollow reach

of times breach

for eyes seek

beyond presents bleak

till eyes meet

in togethers heat

but the future fragments of days reaped

with no breath to keep just faiths leap

until heavens peaks are rendered puddles deep

for who could awake in a dream only meant for sleep.

Circus life.

Death comes with unsweetened life

from salted eyes of a catered demise

a smiling guise amidst flatlining lies

from a cheerful decline unto a lonely prize

of trapeze of pleased artists, smugly refined

and bouncing acrobats that climb heights that boggle the mind

as I stood amidst exploding mines that were never mine

but were laughingly assigned from the muted mimes

that belly hold a chuckle with finger pointing signs 

to guide the wandering eyes to where the humours enticed

to where a smile died within a see through box, unable to hide

as they pull the rope where the other end was chokingly tied 

around the jugular, of a life denied

a killer joke, is the ringmasters pride

as the acts take their bows to end the night

as the juggler swings in front an audience of desensitised sights. 

Who could've guessed what smiles could hide.

Counted blessings.

Counted blessings 

of our lives and heated lessons

counted blessings

through our hated, though, love filled transgressions

why did we not count our blessings

when the number meant more then this feeble confession

to whom we now bless with returned love 

and unanswered questions

can we still talk or silently walk together

if a number matters nought, how about a heartfelt letter

so we don't have to feel so alone, upon another lifelong endeavour.

Hematite.

Rust to dust from upon metal chains

of a blooded palette of centuries claimed 

rattle an echo of unholy remains

accompanied by a cascading roar of living disdain

for all hearts beat still amongst the shadows shade

as from the path many have swayed 

towards the lure of temptations gain

an eternal debt that must be paid

for the night is long, like ghostly pain.

Aching hearts

born of absent crying of blessings scorned  

free also of sin, as God and Devil mourn

but love still adorns upon life torn

like a rose atop thorns as the sun rises upon hollow dawns

aching hearts worn

warn against what was sworn

so bless the unseen with more then

what we understand as serene

Echoes in the dark.

 Pushing through, dark room

a given clue, darkness glooms

a bedridden muse, that night consumes

a light hearted smile is but a ruse

of a figure that the mind subdues 

for who's that, that entices doom

a silhouette dressed, in blackened hues

standing in the corner, of my tomb 

for the night is young, echoing the life that I lose

midnight struck the hour that this mortal paid his dues

pushing through, the darkened room☺

Giving singles a bad name.

 To know them more then they know themselves 

a grievous act of manipulators tired of being left on the shelf

watching others trading cards, well holding the cards they've been dealt

because of their demeaning evaluation their left only caressing the tabled felt.

No questions to learn distracting facts leaves just jealous acts 

to impact what's intact with their absence from the pack

"how powerful are the ones that cause cracks" 

no addition just subtractions is but an equation that leaves the equals trapped

a lone artist that can only dabble in the abstract for nothings exact

no specific hands to play for they feel the deck's stacked

and a friendly game turns to a monetised transaction their ready to retract

oh how I loath to interact within continuous social debates of ignorant counterattacks 

that leave me gobsmacked at the smiling deaf that only exist as a patience test

that inevitably ends with me signing the stress of two fingers split as I eventually quit 

believe what they will, and say what they may say just as long as I'm far away 

for I don't want to be the main character in their narration of whatever they find fascinating

as nothings more sating to them as baiting or rutting the mating and to me either is just aggravating.

Own being alone not as a loan from others 

there's a reason for it that's known or yet to discover

it's never to act against lovers

for that's when the alone, justly suffer.

Talk.

 How times have changed of where opinionated blame

justify red rain within eyes of the children that remain

of lines erased in a world that'll never be the same

a grain of truth disdained within malnourished pain

the only hate speech is hate to speak. Papers left plain

of anything but the signature of a name

lost is the humane when there's no will to obtain

our perpetual soul, that's somehow misplaced in our earthly reign 

it's so sad of what "Power to the people" became.

May the bread stay broken, untaken

of fences mended among the splintered forsaken

and let these bloodied thorns be a symbolic token of peace awoken.

Bang goes the drum amidst a choir soft-spoken

let the beauty tame the beasts of what we left wide-open.

 

Yearning.

 No worth since birth

from outside learned

way beyond or below concern

oh, how the young did yearn

for all but the stern

oh, how the young did yearn

to be old with wisdom earned

but the old wish dominates the urn

within atmospheric burns

how long left, becomes the only question 

with no rights to turn.

Slammed doors in place of a child's face

commonplace is an adults disgrace

that grew the jealousy that others felt safe

oh, how the young did yearn for even a trace

of love and trust for, of the human race 

without the need for the chase

with age comes wisdom that the young's replaced

with memories encased of how we died with haste

oh, how the old do yearn, for even a taste of what we waste.

 

Green green grass called home.

Green green grass of home

was a greenhouse that I sold

for sake of broken glass and stones that stayed whole

a pebbled path to what was lost, turned into a main road

for fast cars with high beams that highlight the cold

so huddle for warmth to find only me I could hold

with clouded skies that gift the rain to feel less alone

and a lullaby like thunder to soothe the mind of its woes

to wake to tomorrow and see what I'm told

for one day it will be a garden to rest my weary soul

with birds and trees, bees and flowers and honey like gold

in my damp and loud, green green grass of home.

The fascination of interpretation.

Anger forged poetical forms of flipping the bird 

a smith that uses hot-tempered words

that says fuck the crows that attack those unheard

that don't follow the crow'ded herds

the dead feasters, that passed away anything of self to learn

no soul to urn, nothing earned, as body's burned.

The death of free speech often comes from the meek

as they care more about their reps, as their obviously feeling weak

for God doesn't fear the Devil or his heat

he gave us freewill to choose to where we retreat

but how can we choose a door when the halls are just walls 

covered with concrete with blankets on the floor for the poor

while they enlarge their spreadsheets, that hide behind law

for how can we beat the odds when we can't even break even 

then turn around and bitch slap Oliver for asking for more

gruel from the cruel  that continues to play with war

a deathly reward to silence the bored 

that voice that the game of life is more then we can afford

how can we be right when we can't write what's freely abhorred

or adored, for every positive has a negative and every negative has a cause

for righteous applause, for who knows what the future has in store

or who will end up wielding the molten words poured into swords 

for interpretation is liberation a freedom to be explored

not something torn by the scorned

that saw what they had a right to see but not complete to see

completely a deadly drawn thorn 

for it's just interpretation, artistically born. 

A disc shaped mirror.

One race multi-paced bragging about shoes unlaced 

while the human soul is slipping of wars copy pasted

'big dicks' cum basted come taste this, in battle grounds wasted

politicians only master the baiting of no more mating 

while we're asking, why does together feel outdated, hated

Iran-Israel India-Pakistan Thailand-Cambodia, 25 already in a trench dug ditch

even entertainment with the US-UK battling the rap shit

I love lyrical poets but not when it's already all over the journalists lips

we learn from leaders unrated where without a gang can't come face this

no self written code just an army written list of words spoken with a lisp

no conviction just flex on rolling with convicts that never miss

rule with fear no respect, I say F the ear of speculative hits

where they seem to busy with playing battleships

give me escape from personnel pits, not a reiteration of holes that coffins dip

one category multi-story bragging about shoes unlaced on beats retraced

how many times are we going to hear the same old gory of battle lines misplaced 

by the flexing egotistical headcases that only lift drugs measured by weight 

hold up, wait, gotta sniff a gram of this 

only pull up for a shoot-out not to lift themselves or others out the pistol grips

hate listening to the I'm gangster shit, need evolution on the rappers grit

from the over sensitive throwing physical fits over a dis

since when did the genre give power to a bitch

used to be about real world shit like getting shot in the back real personnel hits 

and come out swinging in the booth to make the other quit

to get buried in the abyss, socially dismissed 

since Tupac and Biggie they twisted it to rap it, aiming for the Ritz 

that was some personnel shit only between Pac and Big 

until they saw profit in making the east v west to make Suge and Diddy rich

and we all know what Diddy did with his

the same as the politicians did with their desert island discs

just saying the mirror between entertainment and reality is some real world shhh

can't talk about that list, that doesn't even exist.

The percentile of societal decline.

 Lust for the nice side leaves a target open-wide

for the wrong will always find with no way to hide

90 doing it right comes with the 10 that falls to the grind

the 10 that's used to beat you down always on remind

the you they define, as the 90 resets to 0 that gets redesigned 

as a fake climb to a pre-emptive decline to fall behind.

Lust for the selfish wants comes with ready excuses

where occasional rights hide the many uses

90 doing it wrong comes with the 10 that seduces 

the 10 that's "aww they be trying" that hide the many bruises 

that's them redefined, as the 90 resets to 0 to condone what many produces

an ego with many uses.

If the first is the aim 

either get used to mistakes that'll claim your name 

or you can give in to the blame and become one of the same

or you can stay away with yourself and learn to value your brain

before you lose yourself to the shame

and only find joy in the addiction of an unreal game.

 

A tongue-tied guide of ones mind.

Legs made of rubber and a spine that shudders

leaves a mind full of thoughts yet nothing to utter

for letters turned to numbers within an incoherent mutter

like 1's lost four words, mind full of clutter

talking with a heart aflutter amidst a love stricken stutter

for how can fall for another when it was lone recovered

and the lover that suffered.

Anxious the question.

 Muscle pumps blood with racing beats 

derailed thoughts to run from the seat

where complete became obsolete 

a thinking parrot upon the streets of ideas on repeat

flying in knots as breath deletes 

fighting unconsciousness where the heart deadbeats.

No solo walks for only the parrot squawks

no meets and greets for the sake of the internal talks.

The blackout blues of, who the fuck are you?

Escape, escape.

Days filled with impending doom

no room to breath inside expanding tombs

just phases of mazes living in claustrophobic catacombs

shivering cold with no clothes, for it's where you can only wear what darkness looms 

no sun just moon of cascading booms of celebratory tunes 

reverberates the exodus of deflated balloons that bleed the air from exit wounds

for escape is but a breathless muse that lies in it's ruse 

that gets lost in it's complacency, of dejected clues. 

A dose of injected rope.

Gut wrenched with a centre left blooded

a spine stabbed to a mouth that's scarlet flooded

turned the red tongue to a Devil that thinks wrong

just sing songs that the ends the same with days prolonged

an infected clock of flatlined ticks and tocks

sounding alarms on the mental blocks of doors locked

of damned dos and don'ts upon the social notes

of crossed out hope that's replaced with the capitalized NOPE.

A lethal dose atop a steadily declined slope.

Story board.

 Story born from back to knees and kneels to feet

of a soft coloured heart beneath bewildering heat

for who or what was feated beyond the defeat 

is all but decided, by the narration of times receipt.

A game until the unknown.

 Lost a will to speak, looking meek

absent of life circles around like I'm smelling reek 

of joy coloured grey within a tortured mind that reidentified everything as bleak

where every peak is counted feet of how fast is the ground I can meet

to look like mincemeat upon the concrete 

so I stay in a panic stricken seat, with a view of candy lines on repeat

like deja vu of what it's like to constantly lose the game of trick or treat

a meet-and-greet where I lost everything sweet

a mistreated mind born for an athlete with a body of a deadbeat

where my inside runs empty but yet I feel incomplete  

I wonder if death's heart beats as I pray for deletion to a soulful retreat,

there I go again, with the repeat of, slowly losing everything sweet.

 

Mind less.

Only, for feeling low was always before combined for a lonely combo

but I'll reap what I sow and re-rip the holes just so I can learn to sew

for I could never see the wood for the trees or green pastures for the crows

so I try to fertilize barren land and irrigate holding a water hose

and wonder why I'm constantly up shits creek without a paddle just giving blood to the mosquitos

so I stay stagnant with the flow and with the hope that the grass will grow

but I can't help but stay ready with the hoe for I know only the weeds will show.

A safe space was never designed, so who could I also assign 

so I have to study up on the signs, so I never fall back beyond the line of what confines

for I've redefined the sweet taste of wine to but fruitless vines of tendrils that climb

into a soul that died of no life, just spending time giving CPR to the divine

a fools errand waiting for wounds to dry from trying to hold onto porcupines 

that pierce deep inside, so I stay with the rhymes of a wish that goes beyond mine

but all I can see is the eventual decline of anything that has the potential to reach sublime.

Reason.

Pick myself up amidst closed doors

bruised from kicks for I looked dwarfed

their ego projection of what most are scared to explore

to exist on empty, to try to be internally restored

when patience in pain only remains in store

a larva core to phoenix soar, or maybe wings torn

so I pray that the thorns will be rose adorned

though I know people rather morn then applaud 

but fuck, like me they have to deal with the fact I was the sperm born 

so sock it to the hordes, like I'm watching porn

I'm still me of course, I still rather walk away then live gripping angers sword

an easy target but not without cause.

Keep calm and carry on, even if our uncle has gone.

World at war take one take two, surprise US side-lines three

money over matter if only right was repriced free

maybe then peace wouldn't side against democracy

when their just scared to side against the bigger country

like one and two when we had to prove they could be defeated

before they recognised our allied treaty

where the fucks the loyalty when 'friends' stay seated

we know their wolves but they lost their howl, of growls depleted

Put-in political sheep's clothing of propaganda bleated

piss secreted of pants filled at a threat of missiles that's nuclear heated

bully rules completed, our alliance defeated before they even competed.

We all hate war, we should never rush-in 

but when someone threatens the planet bound lovin'

we can't sit idle or they'll continue to keep pushin'

two decades ago paid back the debt from the blitz for where over a year after, Sam stayed out the mission

missin', lend-lease, against attrition, for we could of perished due to our lack of submission  

thankful that the right was left but pity now the leader of the free world just stays, huffin'

over a prolonged words that's leaves our ally in pieces, for peace he's bluffin'

for over the hammer and sickle he stays gushin'

like a schoolgirl he stays blushin'

talking that a will not to surrender is nothing but fussin'

minus one ally, though in the rest of NATO they can continue to trust in.

We must do what's right especially if it's our last

so threaten us with death, with atomic blasts 

to heighten our resolve of our wills amassed

amidst walls smashed stands the minds of enthusiasts

for our cup runneth over, especially if it's made with broken glass.

You haven't liveD without the Devil.

 A cascade of blades

of back handed knives of actors paid

for who could find the paths laid 

with bodies lain, slain.

Peaceful cadaver remains

is branded confidence named

for who could maim

if not those seen as confidently claimed.

Quiet shamed to mere shadows like identity drained

though the crowds have turned unAble but pro-Cain

killing sisters and brothers, just for proof of selfish fame

for who could train when parents are still trying for a life gained.

Confidence has been shamed to an identity of force

too scared to use words so it turns to actions with no remorse

forethought, guilt are for the weak too scared to open doors

"take what you want" became the words of mentors

though if your looking for guidance from others that isn't yours

you might as well be leashed, still walking on all fours.

The bigger picture may involve us,

but it isn't centered thus.

Cons peer, minus the see.

Conversate the real listen as meaning perpetuates upon this piss take

not games of no means, shallow talking of ego inflates

like tits they like, like they still suckling the lactates

a simple formula of topics, sentences that's easy to formulate 

jaws slack salivating with head nods of waiting to prove they can replicate

repetition of hollow erections of how easy they could manipulate 

like a conspiracy of cloned Holly-wood filled with secret society inseminates 

with ignorant talks on why society deteriorates but above it all they still elevate 

for far-fetched ideas of others ass like traits, starts at home of what we blindly rate

for seeing is believing, but for shame that our short sight seems to evaporate.

A bubbled community is immune to what they can't or wont participate 

a society of equal respectful difference can reinvigorate 

the broken glass of  mirrors of miscalculated reflections that disorientate 

to reinvent artistic eye glasses to aid integration to make life easier to navigate

if only different reasons wasn't enough to discriminate, incriminate 

media with social first conspires with us or them, as together it mutilates 

just separate groups to tit-illate, one species towards hate.

Dumpty falls to something more.

 Let loose the film of past

that runs passed eyes of a folded cast

a blindfold to purpose trashed

forget self, to be without the burden of contrast

for all the kings horses trample bricks of what couldn't last 

of when hope is less then bullets shelled to souls smashed

of hearts lashed beyond the crash, a bloody blast

to our mind-filled rafts that drift upon seas that wave steadfast

mirror faith greeting tribulations of our drowning past

is how we learn to breathe, unabashed.

Self ish.

Only me in my eye, I cast I as a pupil

a student to learn what is happy beyond the pill

beyond the quill that writes upon this still

of feeling ill, unfulfilled, of time spent just reading the bill.

Feet deep unburied to gather blistered feet underneath to stand again

can't so many times was thought amidst common place disdain

in which a soar of inadequacy migraines shallowed out to sham pain

an inebriation that toxifies the champagne in that my name will never be plain

like a paper plane of tissue flying my shit stains 

where the corn of going with the grain is the only sweetness gained of my unpopular blame

waiting for reasons to twist of friendships feigned 

lack the reasons to fight became my coward like fame

up to where anger flames, becomes a perfect frame to why I should be slain

though I can't complain for I should of still constrained before the frame contains.

Selfish was never I centred in the eye

it was to entertain others with a witty reply

to never defy, to always comply

for every passer-by

to act like I have the power to always supply

to always be on standby 

ready with a show to be remotely televised 

for who am I but an average guy

that lost the will to self satisfy

that therefore turned all for another into a selfish, selfless alibi.

  

 

Under the standing of hope.

Talk fast of what I ponder harder of breaths that grow shorter

mentally hyperactive visual absorber, a vocal recorder

minus the understanding, the order, just a deficit disorder

over stimulating direct-ion to an alternating invertor 

back through a convertor, for a lobotomy of thoughts murdered

so fall asleep to dreams with dark figures inserted 

shadow bastards to hopefully keep me alerted.

Just go with the flow, just row row the boat 

upon the stream of grounded seams of what was knowingly wrote

for maps are just notes of adventurers quotes 

on their words we float as I sink with my slit throat

unable to speak in proper context but still I'm devote

to a non conned texts of my defected vote of my unique antidote

my perpetual scope, who helps me cope

to who I try and promote above my printed raincoat

and that's my tongue tied ride of  hope.

 

Eating for two.

Off the cuff, heart on my sleeve to shake a gory meeting

to ad lib the flow, minus the liberal griefing

like Aunt Flo in porn with hungry lips that got people beefing

seething though somewhat pleasing, appeasing 

teasing my unceasing thoughts upon our greeting

of a hand-shakes to my pulse that's beating.

Sit and write on what'll make me right, ever blessed

but I'm left without rest or breath, I guess I mean I'm breast bereft

a bloody open chest mixed with jest dedicated to whom I'm blindly obsessed 

to who I don't know though I'll ever guess

with different ways to express the ways I'm possessed 

with a guest who's the best part of me, and to that I'll always confess

my imagination is but a process towards a laugh of her smiling success.

Foretold is Forewarned. (A verse breakdown of 2 in 1.)

All have different ways towards the same goal

all want to be loved completely in heart and our soul

but outside was denial, that was my whole

that led to my hole

of I'm better of on my own 

though I'd never find my role 

happy and healthy don't fit well alone

as anxiety crept into my home

for that ain't the version of me 

that I wanted to be 

a version of 1 I needed a mirror to see.

My ideology was always foretold

before I have her physically to hold

conflicting drama may always be around

though they shall never cross upon our ground

2 together forever amidst radioactive weather

each others smile to measure our pleasure, an eternal endeavour

though I know past, present and future exist simultaneously 

so 1 was always 2 both figuratively and actually.

Foretold.

For when all that's been said, of hunger fed on lead

when all that's been done is done 

and the missile hits, can I steal one more kiss

before all we have is fists of anger persist 

beyond radioactive mists of one last denied wish

a backdrop of fallen stars of bars set far

can we evaporate together far beyond forever

back to when pain was but like rain

before it's play like reign was named as a consistent day

can this second everlast the blast of what was never asked

of a question that lingers between our entwined fingers.

Where just where, for we were always there

here together, in a room beyond air.

forewarned.

All across the canvas and the lives that it holds

all that wanted different stories, or so he was told

all their warm hearts though to him they seemed cold

all the diamond souls, to him depicted the greed of fossilized coal

as carbon emissions from the fuel of the fire that moulded the old

for

alone is happy, contextually

in that the idea would create amnesty 

was his strategy

limited within it's insanity 

that conceived, an ill-conceived vitality

of ones lifeless mentality

for

it wasn't him he wanted, no not even he

it was the imagination of who he could be

not him,

actually.

Nought for thoughts.

 All in nought of expanding size

through it, all dimensions derive

for outside the ring nothing collides

at the horizon something will rise

out of nought and into natures eyes

is everything we see, though everything is lies.

For who creates such a mesmerizing prize 

a perfect home for biological life.

Famously nameless.

Imagination is all to fill the duration

of what can fuel her elation

fast heart beats feet that's calling for patience 

mind tells stories of momentary complacence

while hollow days of ill thyme complain the senses 

of season come, seasons go of nothing but warmed up benches.

 

A key broad pen 

to over explain the how and when

quick eyes to try and find zen, for only then

dreams come awake minus the REM, only her again and again

empty time to be filled with the sum of one rhyme

sometime, through time Thespis writes as a thespian

performing as someone as a lonely tragedy of free days beset by a nameless pedestrian.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A means to an end.

Play games a virtual player

not to literally play her

not just another egotistical maniac 

just a not her, thats defined by conviction of this mans acts 

F the hidden agenda that act behind the scenes 

I would rather focus on Facts that highlight my means  

like Newtons first of an internal act to be at rest vs external actions 

a dyslexic cation pushed to find my cathode, to try and act odes 

her smile means I'm home, welcome to a list of my tome

from life to me tomb for it overcasts, forever it looms 

spitting a tapestry from birth to the inevitable doom

everyone needs a reason for here and to look forward to the after

my aft is her, my navigation is stern with L's to learn lives meaningful Laughter.

 

  

 

 

The greenhouse effect.

Smile a laugh of housing a home

of what was written outside of tomes

for visions have been limited to a mental syndrome

by others that can't see her heart roam 

that r missing the heat that makes hearts groan

for to the sun the seeds are grown

all in an attempt, to plant a home.

A difficult directional change.

Subtle doubt to be without

just food for thought and none for the mouth

a northbound home with a drive down south.

The big picture took too much sight

but seemingly inevitably it left a fallacious appetite

for happy memories to outweigh the plight

of awaken dreams and no good night.

So let mindful moments be my fuel

to feed my days with more then gruel

with instances that let my taste buds rule

and gift my eyes with sweet beauty's school

instead of an empty picture, drawn by this fool.