RHYME IS THE RHTHM OF NATURE
Whenever you're feeling down.
You just need a clown.
to release you from frown.
living in this wicked town.
to mask your loneliness,
to free up your heavy bones.
mesmerize you in pure bliss,
in his talkative humorous tones.
to tickle your thoughts,
and pass through your worries.
to make you feel at home,
inhibitions will be buried.
with this magical tricks
the medicinal antics.
talents he mastered and shared
jokes you found candid.
never a single dull moment,
a clown is all you need.
happiness that a friend, acquaintance,
or lover can never give
he runs not for the finish line
for he knows the setting sun is
only a melting chat between dark and light
between dreamy sleep and wakeful flight
his eyes tell a tale not of what he has seen
but of what lives in the space between
what can be and what cannot
and what can be sensed, but not taught
when we speak to him of earthly ways
and our conscious counting of finite days
his eyes can only partially conceal
what dreams we are about to steal
our chiseling chatter is meant to teach
but his drifting dreams are beyond our reach
and one day soon he will slowly awake
to the sorrowful sound we are forced to make
when we cunningly convince him his race must end
and that all his dreamy glory was just pretend
"what if you woke up in the middle of the world ending?"
"well I would get up and get changed like I always do"
I need to get this clock fixed,
take the time to make two locked fists.
I'm not pissed, just an angry man
wondering if you can block this tirade
as I walk the Devil's terrain trying to stay away from the watch list.
Now, what's this? Someone insane, deranged
circling all of the boxes, fitting
no spaces. Closed faces faced with the most basic,
basest notions of what it is to be abrasive.
I'm laced with hatred, pacing the naked floorboards.
Repeat; not wasted. A tar tongue tarnished
by the distaste harnessed, placed with
vile eyes to see through veiled lies, blatant.
I surmise you're demise will bless me with
the chance to push you from the precipice,
leaving you with no sentiment
just another piece of sediment.
Mos Def addict practicing my mathematics
multiplying gross deaths stacking high in my attic
banishing, your batting eyelashes in my hatchet
brandishing a reflection of death nothing can match it,
a packet of matches, three cans of gas am I mad bitch?
I’m a man mastering cracks of dark arts from a sad witch,
tears of evil, blasting apart marked hearts, sew they can’t stitch,
so I can cross your eyes and harvest every last inch
of your body I’ve got hauled high with my crass winch.
Dangling like abattoirs meat hanging upside down by your feet,
never is the time that I will retreat,
secreting discreetly in your petite physique,
desecrated secretly I never cease with the heat.
I’m a clever beast with the sweet smile of a pre-school teacher
I’m a leach, I’m an evil preacher,
I’m worse than a priest with someone not quite senior in reach.
I beseech you to keep my smile in mind when I breach
the regular limits of sin, an when the victim begins
spinning within the rhythm of my limb precision
positions a physician would think weren't natural
constructions. Causing concussions with my bone crack percussion
discussing the disgusting repercussions of being obstructive
with a kind as destructive as mine its reductive to imply
that I’m stuck with a mind superior to thine, let the subtleties shine,
you’re an inferior design, obsolete, so the premise is supremacist
there’s no preventing this, the evidence is left in every crevice of the premises.
(Before you read this, this is only applicable to my experience, I'm not judging you if this is still your life; it's written more because it was my life and I wasn't living.)
At the time I thought it helped me socialise,
now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes;
supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
Bored of chasing a broken prize, smoke n lies
I chose to thrive, pry open these permanently closing eyes.
It was the bane of my existence,
now my resistance is high instead of me.
I better be the best pedigree of I.
Instead of the guy flying with eyes far from wide
spying those that despise trying to get inside my mind,
to find they aren't real. Addicted no longer,
uplifted, higher than leaves can carry,
now you’re green with envy while I parry
back your attacks and crack on.
I blow-back your slow trap and reflect upon your affliction
I’m best without your friction on my lungs,
now I’m cutting you with the diction from my tongue,
no grinder. Now my mind’s up to speed,
no amphetamine, no dependency,
it certainly seems that I’m living better than I could ever dream.
I’m an evergreen standing steady for centuries.
At the time I thought it helped me socialise,
now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes;
supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
I know a co-dependant who is so defensive of his friendship,
there is no pretence, he never pretends.
When he lends a tender hand this man is tentative,
attentive without an incentive other than to mention
that he meant it when he said
he’d never think to jump the brink of a sinking ship.
He has a model road and rolls like a novel role model
no bottles to use as a hovel for sorrows, no hollow morals
he swallowed pride and spat it back for you to borrow.
Follow this man tomorrow;
see him be in nothing but his being,
seeing the world adapt its stance ‘til it’s trapped in a dance with the devil.
Bent metal, false hands, fleeing the scene he seems to be screaming.
A man of mettle, not faltering, not altering himself for an altar,
he offers himself just as he is.
I want to crawl inside
the crevices
of your mind
where you create your thoughts
I want to travel
like blood
through your veins
and fall into rhythm
with your palpitating heart
making my way outside
of your body
and sleep softly inside
the spaces between
your eyelids
I'd become a cartographer
if only to map
the surface
of your skin
so please,
so please,
let me in,
let me in
Overlooked, underfoot, brushed aside
the bottom line is this: I’m sick of looking up.
My eyes are tired, facing the sky
trying to fill my cup, droplets from above,
sipping this rainwater aint the same
I’m drained. Loose change, who’s changed?
Seems deranged that I’m deemed useless
yet people walk all over me.
The view’s strange, my lids need books,
tips need silver, copper and such.
Quite often I’m just disregarded as being there,
slightly rough to the touch, a sight stolen so sleight.
Not even a part of the wall, not a brick,
just another slab in the floor, holding up shit.
See me. Hear me. Converse.
Generally I hate people.
Maybe if I got to know you,
I could hate you too?
I despise various types of self,
15, 16 through 19.
If life is a high court I judge all
for their discrepancies.
Procrastinators need now,
believers need reality,
liars need honesty but honestly
we’re too sensitive for honesty;
speak or hear. So I speak clear right here.
Hear right. Arrogance needs insults,
the self-righteous need to take a look in the mirror and find their own.
False reflection, false affection.
Attention needs to be looked after,
Naïve views need blindsighting.
You can’t love hate; if you hate love.
White lies make me get dark,
why bark if you’re not a dog?
Quit bitching, deceit carries a receipt.
I’m just a flea itching to bite.
Eternal fuse, refuse to explode,
re-fuse, implode. Exposed.
Corrode societies iron clad prose of civility.
Severe sincerity.
