I love you
I know I do
But I can't feel it
The numbness has reached my heart
No matter how hard I try
No feelings break free
They're lost somewhere
In the darkness

I don't know how else to put it
I don't have words to explain
It's just these chemical imbalances
I hope you'll understand
I love you
I really do
I just can't always find it

Men and women all born to a creed
no creed an advocate for evil deeds
Savagery of the Peshawar kind
has more to do with an evil mind
that does not think nor analyze
blinded it is  by  emotions unwise
Biochemical imbalances of the brain
and a body bereft of a conscience
is that what makes them take an AK47
and wreak havoc on defenseless innocence

a satanic act born of frustrated cowardice
that seeks to hide in dark disguise
behind the shroud of distorted beliefs
that seeks revenge as heavenly relief
Those that make their own earth a living hell
Which God and what paradise waits for them pray tell?

The nations of the world,
Delinquented by;
The cheapest wine
Of modern democracy,
Chant the slogans of
Equality, liberty and fraternity
But, when this structure
Is looked through
With pragmatic prisms,
This world appears to be
An imbalanced chariot
Driven by
The forces of anarchy.
In the west you see;
The economic liberty
While the east is caught in
Hunger and poverty.
One side is packed with
Neuclear factories,
While others are fractured by
Communal armies.
The structural imbalances
Will never cease to exist
Tis constantly fueled by
The injected worms of
Racism, regionalism
And above all
Demented liberalism.

02/01/2017

© Badee Uz Zaman.

If i could,
I would,
Carefully take you apart,
And put you back together,
Piece, by fragile piece,
And i would not cease,
Until the job was done.
Until the sun once again, shone from those lost, wondering eyes,
Until the cries that had chained you down,
Had been removed from the ground.

And if i could, i would,
Take my tools
And attentively drill out
Your insecurities,
All those flaws, you believe to be
Impurities
And ***** in self acceptance so tight,
So that never again at night,
Would you be reluctant, to hold yourself,
As you sparkle in the moonlight.

And if i could, i would,
Clamp together,
Your hopes and dreams,
Your self belief,
And tie them together at the seams
With double knots,
So that you never forgot, how
Capable you are.

I'd take each glittering star,
and plant them in the pupils of your eyes,
So that each time you cry
You'd be reminded of the beauty inside,
Of you.

And if i could, i would,
Paint over your frame work,
And tentatively cover up those scars,
So you'd never again see the hurt,
And never doubt
Just how perfectly imperfect you are.

And if i could, i would,
Saw away your sorrows
So when you thought of your tomorrows,
You weren't filled with dread,
You were filled with joy and hope
And optimism instead,
So that before you went to bed,
You were not filled with self defeating thoughts,
Ruminating inside, that pretty little head.

And if i could, i would,
Weld securely into place,
A genuinely happy smile,
Across your dainty face,
And a hand in yours,
So you'd never have to brace
Anything alone.

And if i could, i would,
Disassemble your malfunctioning thought processes
And rewire them back together again,
With a spanner, in the manner,
That meant you were not
Classed as insane.
I'd unfold and rearrange,
The chemical imbalances
Within your brain
So that the years of disdain,
And self blame,
Where a thing of the past,
I'd put you back together,
In a way, that showed you,
You were meant to last.

And if i could, i would,
Attach wings to your spine,
So there'd never be a time,
That you'd stumble and fall
You'd stand tall,
You'd rise above it all.

And if i could, i would,
Take the lonely shadows of your heart,
Rip them apart
And blaze them,
In a light so bright
It'd never die out,
You would never again doubt
All that you are,
And all that you can be.
And if i could, i would,
I'd set you free.

“Put pressure on it, it needs more pressure”
Holding your wounds shut
That senseless force is what took you away
Pressure- to be... whilst not desiring to be
You saw the clouds moving in greyscale
I saw the hills below scattered in shades of green,
Cavernous, shadowed, cryptic, familiar-

We were advised to go as the crow flies
I cried to a nameless God that your crow’s feet
Were from insurmountable happiness, not the pressures endured
I’ve forgotten much since the storm some-178 weeks ago
Though my body remembers yours over and over again
My skin has yours imprinted, correlated
Forged into one point on the axis between here and there
You the X, I the Y

The Earth crept between the crevices, curling
Through the distance between the Right radius and ulna
Elbows breaking knuckles, blood remains to be spilt
Blood doesn’t connect, if anything it merely separates

Scarecrows don’t help much when the crops won’t grow this year
Ants crawled out of the barrel of a shotgun
Observing the process of cleaning bones after tragedy

Follow the moss to find your way North with no direction-
Sometimes on the other side it’s not greener,
It’s more terrifying than ever before
Terrain untouched, unspoiled, sacred-

Climb up the trees with me, find your quiet
We won’t carve our names but we’ll find our niche
You’ll have quills and I’ll have armor
Not even the thought of stolen arrows,
Lost time through distance,
Or perhaps a slew of chemical imbalances
Can reach us up here
I chose to glue your pieces back together with mud and straw
Taken from the fallen, the loved and now distant memories

You may be an abandoned military base offshore
What was once used by many-
Witnesses life again, life of a different kind
The vegetation will ease its way into the cracks
Constructed when the foundation began to decay
It has a beauty of its own, one of self-sustainment
An everlasting beauty that connects itself
To the surrounding extravagance, often times ignored,
Death isn’t the only way to be forged into nature, remembered

Fear doesn’t always win, nor death do us part so soon
I hope your skin and bones remember before the end

Speak the truth and the lies burn out of your life, termites and dust mites shout screaming out because of the fumed existence and pandemonium of the right accord of good things coming into your life

From the time the Creator Parents disobeyed the Law of One, The Father of the Universe has set out to create an Army or Allegiance to help Him polarize back to other Creator Parents, His Brothers, so to return to the Sound and True Light of  FATHER, to be embraced in the arms of Mother, HAROON, to trade tricks with the Priest Son, RAJ.   Many efforts have been made throughout the aeons to achieve this.

This Army then, some might call the Justice League, The Thunder Tribe, The Eliminators, The Time-Travelling Angels, and so on, have been going out to galaxies incarnating as the most common life-form there. On Earth, the conditions have been symbolic with many imbalances, lies, evils, greed and corruption.

Now because these beings or soldiers had given up their own will, what is called freewill, to serve a Higher Purpose; their assignments or missions on the planets they incarnate make for a refined and rapid understnading of life and thus at most, they die very young. They return to a more spiritual state than when they had first incarnated.
There is a story about such an angel who was a reverand who incarnated into a rich human family that owned trucks. So as he grew up he had lessons learned from his home planet ringing at the back of his head, he taught humans humanistic values, to turn the other cheek which means enduring circumstances really, being selfless, earning an honest living, reaching out to higher levels of vibration through doing good deeds one day at a time and treating the body as a temple.

Now because not all humans are the same or at the same dimension and process of spiritual evolution, some students who had been respecting these teachings that stem from the Law of One were progressing in spirituality and were basically living their dreams, it was then up to them to warn about disregarding those laws. Because humans have flaws, some members of this Higher Learning were growing jealous and some dropped out and stopped attending, resorting to having money to salvage their insecurities, having lustful engagements with multiple women to avoid loneliness and the worship of materials to absolve their incompleteness.  

Others were unfair such that they suggested that learners who had earned their colours or accolades be stripped off or not duly compensated and recognized and instead work for them so they can complete their own missions with which they were struggling. See it is important to stress that while these angels were selfless and generous they did not come to wipe the buttocks of impatient, foolish, selfish, irresponsible and greedy men. Those who were done, it was good for them they moved closer to the heavens and experienced the paradise the best parts of their hearts had always dreamt.

It was not a competition of sorts but for like of understanding, it can be seen as a race, drivers, runners or combatants on a track to reach the eternal lap where they live their destinies and eat from the fruits of immortality in the secret garden of heaven. In a prospect it can be seen as an attempt to find Eden. Because it is not a competition, merely a progress taking place at different paces, places, phases and environments. Those who had done well and were competent to ride at the next wave and dimension simply went there to continue in their learning, a cascading journey of life, on Earth or in the Afterlife, once they were done they became immortal and lived outside of time which meant they then waited for those who were still coming.  Oracles have it that this angel-soldier, Julo, chose a truck family because this family had an influence to change the way cars would drive, ~cars being the wings of angels in reality~, not only that but roads would be preserved so the riders would see clearly where they were going and how much length or path and time they had left; the awareness of this creates an urgency to learn about important principles and values in life, so then creating gates to divinity and pathways for the life-forms of that realm to live out their purpose and find refuge which is the home in heaven.

With this understanding it was acknowledged that when lovers become parents, the children weren't obliged to be the replay of their parents' lives, in other words props for their parents to act out a story until they could find perfection. It was a wave or energy field that would allow humans to experience divinity throughout all 14 dimensions, transforming into angelic beings once they reach 15, this was a re-Genesis of Heaven. To finally find the Resort and learn the mistakes that occured when Cosmic Mother, Callia was preganant with Artola. It was about the Ark of the Covenant, The Challice, The Holy Grail... Divinity, Beauty, Love. Liberty of Lifelihood

Upon every arrival of every celestial birth,
There is only one common normality.
A susceptibility to an infinitesimal design,
A kink in the chain, the war of our mind.
This psychosomatic condition is no stranger,
A rendition of life’s existence.
Confinement exacerbated by poor health in the gut line,
Hormonal imbalances manipulated by addictive influences.
Paradigms shifting in front of awakening eyes,
Psychedelic truths hidden within the tides of time,
Confusion and conflict preventing expansion of evolutionary consciousness,
A cyclic pattern, the sadness in all our lives.
This idea is immortal and internal in the human genome,
The greatest subterfuge,
Amnesia

If i could, i would,
Disassemble your malfunctioning thought processes
And rewire them back together again,
With a spanner, in the manner,
That meant you were not
Classed as insane.
I'd unfold and rearrange,
The chemical imbalances
Within your brain
So that the years of disdain,
And self blame,
Where a thing of the past,
I'd put you back together,
In a way, that showed you,
You were meant to last.

Poetry is the altruistic apogee of the individualistic emotional egoist.

The lack of feeling, and the lack of empathy,
the petty attempt to hide them with creativity.

It’s truly astonishing how we can fool ourselves into thinking we’re kind
When we’re just wasting our time, pretending to see when we’re blind.

How could we ever emulate our chemical imbalances on one another?
The only way to do it is the kindly overrated feeling of love and affection.
And why would we need words, if we’re sure about our love for each other?
Oh, we’re puzzled to believe that our puny poetry represents felt perfection.

Yet we just walk through the valleys of lyricism,
Lost in our own wishes for joy or demise
And yet we become shadows of perfectionism
Filled with the detachment we criticize.

Our representation is our perdition
We've lost ourselves in our own mission.

I don't need drugs. My brain is drugs.

Maybe it's a side effect of a mother that dropped acid for the first trimester of pregnancy and then some.

Maybe it's a side effect of the abusive step father that told me I would never amount to anything and that I am *******.

My brain processes things at about a hundred miles per hour. In conversations I am always three steps ahead of what ever was said last. I make connections in things that are unconnected.

They tell me this is adult ADHD. They tell me I should be proscribed a pill to help my brain focus.

But focus isn't what I want. Nor is the drowsiness that comes with Lorazepam, the fog that goes with Prozac. I have been separately proscribed these things without ever filling the bottles.

But I fear that if I fix all my chemical imbalances, my medical maladies, that I will disappear into a fog.

Who am I without my OCD, without my brain over processing, over loving, over caring. Without the pain in my chest from another panic, my bouncing off the walls and singing to myself.

Maybe I am unwell.

But who am I without my unwellness?

If i could, i would,
Disassemble your malfunctioning thought processes
And rewire them back together again, 
With a spanner, in the manner,
That meant you were not
Classed as insane.
I'd unfold and rearrange,
The chemical imbalances
Within your brain
So that the years of disdain,
And self blame,
Where a thing of the past,
I'd put you back together,
In a way, that showed you,
You were meant to last.

So what is recovery?
Is it that tingle in your cheeks
When the corners of your mouth meet
Upwards.
Is it that sparkle in your eyes
Because they're no longer suffocated by your cries and you now have the potential to realise
You are strong.
Is it that glimpse of light, that for so long had been out of sight, that you cling onto tight, through fear
It's only temporary.
Is it rediscovering yourself, rebuilding your health and developing a new wealth
Of coping mechanisms.
Is it realigning the chemical imbalances in your brain, so you no longer feel insane, so there's not less pain
But a mind that can handle it.
Is it the glimpse in the mirror where you don't turn in horror but you greet and honour the person that you are.
Is it the fear, that's consumed you year by year, that's brought the end so near,
That starts to evaporate.
Is it eating a meal, and not having to feel like
You need to punish yourself.
Is it hearing voices, but no longer allowing them to dictate your choices,
Because they don't own you anymore.
Is it putting down the bottle, because you're fed up of the throttle
It had you in.
Is it the feeling when you finally win
Back your own heart and mind
When finally you look inside
And don't find
Darkness but light,
When the night no longer scares you
And the days you can finally pull through
Or is it simply a phase
A gaze at what could never be
For there is no clarity,
No prospect to be free
In chains and nooses
And scars and bars.
In bodies that fight to survive
Trapped inside a mind that fights to take our lives.

Some of us; shall never be undone
We fight a war;
That could Never be won.

"I'm so OCD"
OCD isn't a joke.
Washing your hands over and over again until your skin is raw isn't a joke.
Doing things that your brain tells you to do, regardless of what, isn't funny.
Not having control is not a joke.

"You look so anorexic."
Eating disorders are not a joke.
Refusing to eat until it kills you isn't a joke.
Throwing up over and over again to get a body that you will never be happy with isn't funny.
Being control by the one thing that makes you feel like you have control isn't a joke.

"That made me so depressed."
Chemical imbalances in the brain isn't a joke.
Wanting to do nothing all the time isn't funny.
Wanting to die all the time isn't a joke.

Stop making jokes about things you don't understand.

And if you are dealing with any eating or mental disorder, I am so proud of you for still being here and staying strong. I know how hard recovery is. You will overcome it.

I don’t want anything for Christmas
Nothing you can put under the tree.
What I want cannot be purchased.
It can’t be wrapped up expensively;
It’s not about ribbons and silk bows
Or fancy paper laced with gold.
It’s all about what the world needs
And has needed since days of old.

It has to do with people crying
And begging for what they need.
It has to do with children starving
The victims of our nation’s greed.
Drive the streets and look around
And who has got and who has not.
Look at all the rich decorations
And at all the empty urban lots.

Ask yourself how this can happen
In the richest country in the world.
Shouldn’t there be food enough
For every single boy and girl?
And shouldn’t there be jobs enough
For every one who chose to toil?
What happened to good will to men?
Has that concept been left to spoil?

What I want for Christmas can
Be stated in a very simple way.
We should learn to pull together
To chase the imbalances away.
We have enough of our resources
To abolish hunger and poverty.
We can be a nation of compassion.
That is what I truly want to see.

i am mentally ill.

i have been since i was born,
or at least, that’s what i’ve been told.
although perhaps
i never knew it, perhaps
the symptoms
were triggered by trauma, perhaps
it was something that never really seemed
like an illness to me until i knew
what was considered normal. but
i am mentally ill, or mentally disordered, or mentally whatever.

and i ******* hate it.

i hate it
because i cannot think logically most of the time.
i hate it
because whatever chemical imbalances
are inside of me
make me want to scream
and bleed
and punch the walls of my home
until there are more holes than stable ground. i hate it
because me having to speak in front of
my ******* friends is cause enough to
cry for three days, because
my friends don’t understand why
i am ecstatic
around them one day when sadness
crushes my skull the next, because
my friends don’t see logic in a matter of feeling
that doesn’t make sense to them let alone me.

i hate it because
i cannot give a logical reason for this.
i hate it because
i don’t understand why i am the way i am
or what i did to deserve this.
i hate it because
i don’t understand my illness,
i don’t understand how people can
just go out into the world and be happy,
i don’t understand what it’s like to
have something go wrong in life
and react in a way considered to be “healthy”.

i hate it
because my younger brother sits
in class and suffers from his own depression
but refuses to speak up
because he believes his depression
is absolutely nothing
compared to mine,
when to me
it is everything.
i hate it because
he might be cutting himself open
every night
or at least wanting to

and

i hate it because
when i texted all of my friends
as i sat sobbing on my front porch
at ten pm
on a school night
with a bottle of pills
nestled safely in my jacket pocket,
several of them thought it was a suicide note
but none of them cared enough to push further
in my answer of “i’m fine don’t worry about me goodnight”.
i hate it because
the only person who noticed it thoroughly enough
was my ex-boyfriend,
who i scared half to death
when i told him “i’m sorry”
and “i loved you a lot before we broke up”
and “you’ll understand”
and he replied with “oh my god
please don’t
please don’t
please don’t”.

i hate it because
i ignored him.
i hate it because
i wanted out.

i hate it because
the sky fell through the earth’s floor
like shattered glass and the blood-orange
sunset bled towards the grass; i hate it because
i lay softly on the earth of my front yard
and allowed the blades of grass to soothe me
towards the afterlife; i hate it because
the world spun and spun and spun and
my vision blurred and
my heart threatened to beat so far out of my chest
and i could not stop my breathing
but i kept on taking more pills like a child eating candy.

i hate it because
when i realised i wasn’t dead,
i cried.
i hate it because
i had thirty two new notifications
from my ex and the people he had contacted
to see if i was dead
but most of them were from him,
all missed calls and texts and
heavy breathing on the other side of the phone
once he saw me calling. i hate it because
his hands were shaking
and i was talking
and sobbing
with an ex love
on my front porch as the sun and moon switched places
with half a bottle of pills in my system
and the taste of blood in my mouth
instead of talking to my friends
and family
and people
who were supposed to care about me.

i hate it because
the next day i had a pulsing headache
and a suicidal mindset
and all of my friends were cracking jokes
about how they believed i was going to **** myself
when they had no idea
how hard i’d been attempting to do so.
i hate it because
i smiled and lied through gritted teeth
and cried in the bathrooms
when a teacher pulled me aside to say -
he thought something was
“off” with me. i hate it because
i still wanted to die.

i hate it because
i can’t think straight most days.
i hate it because
sometimes everything is okay
and fine
and i can breathe without the alien invasion of
“panic attacks from the planet post-traumatic stress disorder”
and cinnamon doesn’t trigger memories
i would like to forget.
i hate it because
people don’t take mental health seriously
enough to understand why
i leave classrooms in the middle of the day
or why some kids miss school for
two weeks without explanation or why sometimes teachers
with dead eyes are more dead inside
than the human skeletons dancing in the science classrooms.
i hate it because
teenagers make suicide jokes
near people who are dying.
i hate it because
i don’t know if i got out of bed
last tuesday or how long it’s been since i last showered
or if i still love writing as much as
i used to
or if it’s just habit now.

i hate it
because my illness makes me hate myself.

i hate it because
my illness
does not define me
but it sure feels like it does.
i hate it because i cannot explain my illness myself.
i hate it because i hate my illness
and every part of it that creates me, shapes me, moves me
like a ******* puppet.

but ******* it all
if i am going to let it ****** who
i am supposed to be any longer.

Their thoughts intertwined within each others
Each exploring deep thoughts of the other
Their souls seemed made for one another,
Soon fade apart.
The obvious fate of their futures with out eachother drove them mad.
Eachs passion for eachother grew as the time went on
And they made their homes in eachothers hearts
When the time came they fell into an abyss of loss and despair
And when their souls faded black,
They stayed black forever

Live your life
though it's not an easy thing to do
especially for those who are not born with inheritances
every step of the way is rampant with imbalances
it's also because the world is riddled with contrived rules
everywhere it's still primeval law of the jungle
sometimes we're not strong enough
but at all times we need to think for ourselves
protecting ourselves is the only way
making it possible for us
to live a life
many choose to conform to the practices of the society
some choose to stay true to their humanity
the two choices often find themselves in conflict
not saying there's no reconciliations
staying true to yourself
is not preordained to be a confrontation to the world
sometimes it can be more of an integration
because when you know yourself
you become tolerant of the world
because the more you love yourself
you have to learn to love the world
and slowly you'll be able to live out
your own life
the process is never easy
but it's the only way to understanding life
to loving it most of the time.

A friend saw me ...  
and said ...  
  
"Virgil, you can smile !!!"  
  
I laughed and then ... DID ... !!!  
came home and then ... decided ...  
to write ... A little poem  
about this ... " Smile Subject "  
  
After ... "Thinking" ...  
for a while .......  
  
What ... ON EARTH ... !!?!!  
do I have to ... " Smile About " ... ?!?  
  
I'm Better off ... than many ...  
In this ... There is ... NO DOUBT ... !!!!!  
  
I'm Not ... " HOMELESS " ... !!!  
but ... "STILL" ... have a ... NEED ...  
to .... " Scream and Shout " .... !!! ....  
and let ... " MY ANGER OUT " ... !!!!! ...  
  
About the way ... I'm treated ...  
Especially when ... " I FROWN " ...  
because of things ....  
STILL ... Happening ... !!!  
Across ... SO MANY TOWNS ... !!!!!  
  
Like some ... have said  
  
Being black and poor,  
is gonna be  .....  
"Painful" ... for sure ... !!!!!  
  
Being black and ... " RICH "  
may ... " ease your pain " ...  
A ..... "little bit" .....  
  
But .....  
won't change the colour ....  
of the skin .... " You're In " .... !!!!!  
  
or .... Judgements made ....  
by .... " RACISTS " ....  
who hide their ... "opinions" ... !!!!!  
  
They're quick to ....  
" RUN THEIR LIPS " ....  
  
"Look at him, he's stinking rich !  
and still has got, a chip !!!"  
  
"A chip because, I don't say, HI,  
and greet you with, a grin !?!"  
  
"Listen son, those days are gone !"  
  
"Why, thank you boss !!!  
for giving me, that, nice big  
burning cross, without it,  
I would sure get lost !!!  
It was so nice, to see the light,  
in the middle of the night,  
it shined so bright,  
almost, gave me a fright !!!!!"  
  
"It made me, GRIN, my teeth !!!  
and find, a smile, when hung up by  
those nice, white guys,  
who then took time,  
to ****, my child !!!!!!"  
  
"Well things have changed !!!  
So, give us a smile !!!!!"  
  
"You are, deranged !!!!!  
and in, denial !  
What makes you think ?  
I should, give you a smile !?!  
when racists now, have,  
different styles !!!  
They, talk with us,  
like we are, brothers !!!  
but, if we touch,  
their white sisters,  
watch how quick !  
They change, their stance !!!"  
  
" THAT"S MY SISTER MATE ! "  
  
"Okay Okay,  
I know that man !!!  
Her **** are great !!!"  
  
" WHAT DID YOU SAY ?!?  
LET'S GET THIS STRAIGHT !  
YOUR GENES AREN'T WELCOME  
IN OUR RACE !!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"Hold up now son !!!  
It's okay for you ?!?  
to shoot your ***,  
way up in !!!  
Black Womens' Bums !!!!!  
just like you, have always done !!!!!!!!  
since the days, when blacks were slaves  
your defence would seem ?  
to have, no case !!!!!  
Meantime, a smile ?  
should cross, my face !!?!!  
You'll excuse my choice  
to reject, that ploy !!!"  
  
"If I look, somewhat annoyed !!!!!  
Please understand, my lack of joy  
when facing, New Age, racist ways."  
  
This issue ... ISN'T ... !!!!!  
Something New ... but in 2K6 ...  
Needs to be ... DISMISSED ... !!!!!!  
  
Treating ... My Skin ...  
like a ... " God ****** Sin " ... !!!  
is merely where .....  
"The Strain" ... Begins ... !!!!!  
  
"Economists" .....  
Enlist Racists .....  
  
from days of ... using ...  
" Slavery Ships " ...  
right to .... Todays' .....  
.... " Job Markets " .... !!!!!  
  
"Subtle" .... TRICKS .... !!!  
Thrown in ... " The Mix " ... !!!!!  
  
Leave ... So Many ...  
in a .... " FIX " .... !!! ....  
  
ESPECIALLY THOSE ...  
on the ... " BLACKLIST " ... !!!!!  
  
Those who ... DON'T ...  
do as ... " They're TOLD " ... !!!  
  
when seeing how ...  
Their ... " Pay Rise " ... slows ...  
while their ... White Counterpart's ...  
"Pay Packet" ..... " GROWS " ..... !!!!!?!!!!!  
  
DON'T EVEN ... try ... !!!  
to say it ain't ... SO ...  
  
I'm sure i'd find ...  
if we took a ... " Poll " ...  
  
That .... " Imbalances " ...  
would soon be ... SHOWN ...  
and ... " Certain Covers " ...  
would get .... BLOWN .... !!!!!!  
  
But Hey ... ofcourse ...  
I should wear a ... SMILE ... !!!!!  
  
and keep on ... walking ...  
My .... " Black Mile " .....  
while ... " INNOCENT " ... ?!?  
  
while some ... " White Gents " ...  
ENJOY .... themselves .... ???  
with ... " Young Children " ... !!!!!!  
having been .... employed ....  
  
By ..... " GOVERNMENT " ..... !?!?!?!  
  
Now ....  
If they were ... " BLACK " ... ?  
  
Would they have been used ... ?  
and ... Government backed ... ?!?  
  
I'll ... let you stew ...  
and ... Think on that .........  
  
The cards in the pack ...  
are clearly .... " STACKED " ....  
Against those ... who attack ...  
if they are .... " Black " ....  
and ... Speak their mind ...  
Through prose ... or ... rhyme  
  
I guess ... THAT'S ME ... !?!  
  
The ... "Frowning Man" ...  
whose poetry doesn't ...  
.... " Fit Their Clan " ....  
  
The ... " Poetry Pros " ... !!!!!  
which ... goes to show ...  
what I said .... before ....  
should not ... Be Ignored ...  
  
My poetry speaks ....  
about ... " Separatist Cliques " ...  
and their ...  " Hierarchies " ... !!!! ...  
  
..... Racist Police ..... !!!!!!  
and ... " Corporate Thieves " ... !!!!!!  
  
and ... Clearly Shows ...  
...... " Dexterity " ......  
Intellectual Speech ....  
  
and ... " Qualities " ...  
Beyond ... Their reach ... !!!!!  
  
That's why they're ...  
..... CLEARLY .....  
  
" Blocking Me " .... ?!?  
  
from being seen ....  
Through ... " TV Screens " ...  
or being heard ... on ...  
..... " Radio 3 " .....  
  
That's .... The Way ....  
it's .... Always been .... !!!  
  
While some people ...  
KEEP ... " Telling Me " ...  
  
"Virgil,  
you are so lucky !!!!!"  
  
I Don't ... have time ...  
to explain ... My Life ... !!!  
  
But ....  
when you have ...  
A mind like ... MINE ...  
  
" Blessed with " .....  
Some ... " Intelligence " ...  
  
Allied to ... My Deference ...  
and ... Basic Use ... of ...  
  
... " Common Sense " ...  
  
The things i've seen ...  
within ... "My Life" ...  
  
makes it ... HARD ...  
  
for me to ...  
  
..... " SMILE " .....

There is a pain inside my chest
It slowly unfurls
To show its hideous face
And yet its not hideous
It terrifies me
Because its no manifestation of a physical condition
It is the child of the small imbalances triggered by the moving of a thousand suns and their descendants
In mysterious ways

There is a pain inside my chest tonight and I cannot tell you how much it hurts to have not felt this before
To see and think and feel the way a hundred thousand have done before and I'm going insane
Stuck in this battle inside my head
Roars of machinations faraway and souls so close to my own it terrifies me

There is a pain inside my chest
It wants me to live again
A demonic beast
With a distilled heart of magnificent proportions demands action
And it lives inside all of us
We simply learn to live with it, like some lifelong pain of heartbreak or the smell of flowers you liked or the the warmth of the sun upon your skin after a long winter night or

The smile on a face so akin to mine
I'm looking for definitions but I'm out of words now
I need a gun and bam
Shoot myself where it hurts the most
But I won't
The pain inside my chest is a story
Of a thousand years
Of pain
Of suffering
Of loss
And the slight cracks from where light escapes and flirts with the darkness
And the life that emerges out of nowhere to defy all
To defy even god
The pain inside my chest is the same as the one inside yours
Veiled by a smile
Or thoughts
Unavoidable disasters
Manifesting its own life, its sorrows and tears
Its own joy, its own love and its own sun

There is a pain inside my chest
Guess this is what it means to be human

My crooked teeth are imperfect.
My weight is imperfect.
My skin is imperfect.
My thought process is imperfect.
My actions can be imperfect.
I am imperfect.

My teeth help me smile, which people love!
My weight just means I'm better to hug and cuddle!
My skin makes me different, which is always okay!
My thought process is just more advanced and sincere!
My actions are a result of chemical imbalances!
I am okay with being imperfect because imperfections make me who I am!

****** off metaphoric empowerment
Drained from mental imbalances
Constructed from symbolic injustices
Surviving political malpractices
Jaded mind and a jellyfish spine
Land minds and a dozen dimes
Days roll on this glass rock
All I hear is the tick and tock
Thirty three is all I read
Number seven is all I need
Fragmented thoughts and acquired taste
Requires thought of fragmented hate
Twisted tongue over a gun
It's old and useless, but cool and vintage

My chemical imbalances
Make me unstable
Releasing pieces of my mind
So I'll become stable
Still calculating the halflife
Of my sanity
Alpha, beta or gammma,
Would not catorize me

Though we wish,
             can we ever find our
                    prince charming..


A shoe may fit, but is it comfortable.


And our happy ever after is but a moment,
         of chemical imbalances before we realise.
  

That we should have smashed
                                  the happy ever after.  
As glass always cuts deep
                                   it only takes time.

Another day starts
another night gone
where did the time go?
where did I go wrong?
missing my former self
like a long lost friend
but I wish him good health
can only reach him by pen
I haven't slept yet
there's one letter I gotta send
can't look in the mirror
too tired, when is it gonna end

a thousand questions no answers
why the **** am I like this?
a life is built on little chances
maybe it's genetic, fantastic
if I had kids and they got this
if I had a mind then I've lost it
if I can't bare the pain myself
how can I share this sadness?
but I already do
because it's madness for two

to my mother, I love ya
to my father, I love ya
to my sisters, I love ya
to my girlfriend, I love ya
to my friends, I love ya
to the meds, I love ya
to my docs, I love ya
to my former self, I love ya

to the thing I am
to the man I was
the pressure is pressure
and I'm a hairpin trigger
something hard yet soft
like my wasted brain
when will I go off?
every suicidal thought
has got me caught off guard
nobody said it would be easy
never said it would be this hard
feel like I'm watching my life
end from afar, everyday is
an outer body experience
restlessness got me delirious
and I just thought about death
again so this could be serious

Can't see a way out today
chemical imbalances are not okay
stopped taking my meds
want to lose the fight my way
**** what the doctors say
it's all well and good to say
it helps to talk to someone
but I can't find the words today

to my mother, I love ya
to my father, I love ya
to my sisters, I love ya
to my girlfriend, I love ya
to my friends, I love ya
to my meds, I love ya
to my docs, I love ya
to my former self, I miss ya

The next little boat comes around the bend as the previous one sets sail.  No sails of course on these amusement park river rafts, but standing on that disorienting moving platform I can’t help but wax poetic.  I say wax poetic and I think of tall, slim candles on furnished banquet tables in foreign countries with languages that yearn to invert our *****, anglophile syntax and say wax poetic to mean ‘poetic wax’.  Wax with a flair for verbose romance.  Tall, slim, fleshy, slowly expiring under a weightless impossible flame, and thinking all along of shattered daydreams, looking into each like shards of glass and seeing not this melting candle but a solid body doused and extinguished with love and certainty.  There it is, my croissance poétique, my poetic waxing, to grow and elaborate, as wax simply does not - under these circumstances, at least. To be sure, I am still standing before my boat as my body moves constantly on the platform with no help from me.  I am thankful such thoughts find themselves so instantaneously or I would have found myself knocked under or over something or other.  I board.  Buckle.  I’ve never heard of anyone in an amusement park on one’s own; it’s usually a pair hand-in-hand, gripping each other on plummeting coaster drops in some panic-stricken foreshadowing of the taught limbs and pounding hearts that will inhabit their sheets come nighttime.  Or else a grease-stained fat lipped boy, esurient for the delicate touch his haggard mother and wicked-stepfather dole out upon his blind and handicapped sister, bound to a chair, bound to her own head, bound forever to her worn-out, frayed gingham mother and her stupid, jealous brother.  Even as my calves squeak against the rubbery seat and my knees bump with some hairy father of some screaming three, I’ve still managed to romance my setting into something far out of the realm of reality.  I’m afraid, though, I may be losing touch with it altogether.

Am I really there?  Something about the sensation of spinning and twinge in my core that feels like sickness tells me that is probably the case, but even so, I’m relying purely on a hunch.  A literal gut feeling, soon to be joined by the cold barrage of cascading water and my shoes turning wet and making my feet feel somewhat like jelly.  Physical experiences that root me in this world, while my thoughts, it seems, have died and transcended some time ago.  One blink and my transformation is complete, soaked to my center and the ride is over.  I’m exiting my little boat, orienting myself onto the platform that has kept spinning this entire time, unrelenting to anyone who would wish can this all stand still for just a moment my shoe is untied! The father of the three follows behind, but I fail to find a story for him. The faces I pass as I exit are not delicate, they do not carry with them tragic imbalances of the past, or beam with the pride of a love that seems to last forever (because it has lasted so long already, right?), they are blank. They are blank and wet and dripping like mine and they drip like they’re melting, like they are slowly expiring under a weightless impossible flame, and it is now that it has come full circle. The world as it passes has caught up once again and will continue to spin past, allowing only a moment where we both whirl together, where we are in sync and both of us have wicked step-fathers and both of us have soggy shoes and then again she will be gone, to unite with some other fleshy entity and reduce me again to my *****, anglophile syntax and my shattered daydreams and my wax poetic.  But she will be back.  And until then, I’ll drip into the floorboards and perhaps when she returns I’ll have something to show her.

If i could,
I would,
Carefully take you apart,
And put you back together,
Piece, by fragile piece,
And i would not cease,
Until the job was done.
Until the sun once again, shone from those lost, wondering eyes,
Until the cries that had chained you down,
Had been removed from the ground.

And if i could, i would,
Take my tools
And attentively drill out
Your insecurities,
All those flaws, you believe to be
Impurities
And ***** in self acceptance so tight,
So that never again at night,
Would you be reluctant, to hold yourself,
As you sparkle in the moonlight.

And if i could, i would,
Clamp together,
Your hopes and dreams,
Your self belief,
And tie them together at the seams
With double knots,
So that you never forgot, how
Capable you are.

I'd take each glittering star,
and plant them in the pupils of your eyes,
So that each time you cry
You'd be reminded of the beauty inside,
Of you.

And if i could, i would,
Paint over your frame work,
And tentatively cover up those scars,
So you'd never again see the hurt,
And never doubt
Just how perfectly imperfect you are.

And if i could, i would,
Saw away your sorrows
So when you thought of your tomorrows,
You weren't filled with dread,
You were filled with joy and hope
And optimism instead,
So that before you went to bed,
You were not filled with self defeating thoughts,
Ruminating inside, that pretty little head.

And if i could, i would,
Weld securely into place,
A genuinely happy smile,
Across your dainty face,
And a hand in yours,
So you'd never have to brace
Anything alone.

And if i could, i would,
Disassemble your malfunctioning thought processes
And rewire them back together again,
With a spanner, in the manner,
That meant you were not
Classed as insane.
I'd unfold and rearrange,
The chemical imbalances
Within your brain
So that the years of disdain,
And self blame,
Where a thing of the past,
I'd put you back together,
In a way, that showed you,
You were meant to last.

And if i could, i would,
Attach wings to your spine,
So there'd never be a time,
That you'd stumble and fall
You'd stand tall,
You'd rise above it all.

And if i could, i would,
Take the lonely shadows of your heart,
Rip them apart
And blaze them,
In a light so bright
It'd never die out,
You would never again doubt
All that you are,
And all that you can be.
And if i could, i would,
I'd set you free.

Disembodied, hovering, floating to her chair
I guess that's the only way I could have made it there
I don't recall walking down the hall
And opening her door
But soon I sat, zombie-like
Staring at the floor
Her brown eyes scanning, studying
Prying for some more
More to the story than what she saw
walking through that door
Soon the tears rained down my face
My mouth refused to move
The words, cotton, in my throat
Stuck to tell the tale
Only solution left to do
Was lift the cotton veil
The silence, thick, lay in the room
As slowly I unfold
And bared my story
Red and slashed,
with words Still left untold
I lifted my gaze and met her eyes
Scared of what I'd see
Detached alarm
Reaching for my arm
Questions raining down
When and how and why and what?
Do you want to do it again?
I slowly nodded up and down
We have two solutions then
Go to the hospital right away
I recommend you do
Or call a sister or a friend
To watch you
24 and 7
What the hell brought me to this place
You maybe ask yourself
Imbalances, and life and the loss of love
Neurotransmitters and pain
Wrong medicines and hate and grief
The fear of burdening my friends
My days go by
Both good and bad
I'm up and then I'm down
I dream of a girl in red and blood
Then a girl with gold and pearls
I dream of crashing head and on to end the pain and strife
Then think about the beauty ahead that's sure to come to life
Balance is a word I long to reach
It's far and foggy now
I hope one day it will sit and stay
And I'll be just like you, my friend
Exactly like you, my friend

I'm tired of Love lost,
of cookie-cutter me missing you
and all of the ridiculous rhymes that ensue.
More and more I am fed up,
plainly sick of inflated ego's insulated by chosen ignorance
or inborn imbalances,
maybe a history of inbreeding
from a catalyst of parochial need.
You are a parody of mental health
shaping the shifting black and white
to propound cheap love, I feel this as a slight.
Committing any wisp of originality
to become an unconscious marketing ploy,
you're looking for glory in methods unlearned
now butchered, bleeding clichés
to stain pages and pages
with your sullen insecurities.
For that I name you an idiot,
a slavering jowls dripping greedy soul.
Comprehend there is no invalidation of your emotions,
just a damning of self neglect and hidden pride in suffering  
all laced with the unspoken demand for my respect.