.Paralyzing memoriesdiscovered a milliondeep pockets inmy mind fromwhich to pouncelike a purple panther,or a compressed clown in a music box at anygiven time. Doubtseparates black light from sun, solidifyingshadows too afraidto leave the securityof the wall, anchoredin frozen, motionlesssafety. Relax, relax!Set the shadows a-blaze. Forget the oldcurtains, the carpet,just burn the shadowsdown. DOWN! JUSTBURN THEM! DOWN!We all fell. The shadowsand I slithered to the burn-ing floor along with theshadows as my macaronimind came to a rolling boil.My memories marched offin single file.File byfile.

Its always in goodbye we taste what is the essense of that scar called love.
Pain in nature and no words can capture remorse as well as a milepost in a reaview of thought.
It was there we togather once called home now like a tombstone it stands a marker of what was never to be.

Fracture of heart and bitterness my seal.
Im the leftovers of another we can cleanse this logic or simply say ***** it all and regress.
Forever a lie to the young and a curse to the old.
Has it burned this earth and killed me to all that dare to know
what I could never explain.?  

A dance of years now a thought no drug has yet to erase.
Pills aside your drug was the best poisen ive known even with another I
know paradise was a cancer ive long since left behind yet a simple moment can make me slide
into a vice that will see me fall for the last time till next.

Im the clown that circus left behind.
Now a skeleton for home I  ask why leaving takes a milestone and emptyness a downpour
as my desert has long stayed dry.

Read the riddle like a oinion pealed only more layers remain.
hell has welcome thought for ive found more toture here.
Voices haunt my thoughts as emptyness thrives inmy existance.
Its has misreble as when we knew each others love please drown so I can
breath life into this wornout frame one last time.

Winter's chill reminds me of what we never had yet again.
People often question what has no meaning to begin with.
As for me I avoid its poisen a scared child hidden in shadow of a
lesser man.

Nothing stands as a reminder of pages wasted in promise of a day that never came.
Sometimes I view that place were we were more than a bad memory and a traggic vice.
Sometimes I yern only for end to what has never been allowed to begin.

The worst prison of all is the mind.

My hand.
My sweet hand, its long fingers, hold out for you. It feels for you, to guide you through this storm. I can feel you, just out of reach, your arms are turned away from me, crossed to protect you, shielding the darkness within from escaping, as if pushing back the rise of a storm, that your heart, can no longer contain.
There is a storm coming.
I can see it in your eyes, as they look behind me, unable to see me, unable to see, me. As if my very visage is a reminder that you can no longer be alone, as if my very eyes tell you that you are here with me, and all, will be, ok. And your very eyes, and your very chest and your very shoulders, they seem to die a thousand deaths before me, exuding defeat and terror and defense, and relief, all at the same time.
I. cannot. reach. you.
Hold. out. your. hand. My. Love.
You sit, you stand, you walk away, you ignore my hand. You want to do this alone. Alone, without me. With me, alone. But my heart beats only for you, you can hear the sound distantly, from the pulse inmy wrist by my hand, and it widens your eyes and stirs you. And, I can see, the very depths of your soul in each breath you release. In every expletive you throw at me, for being here, for making you realise that, I am not, her. I am not, her. I am not, them. Your soul, it unleashes hell, fire, ash and a deep darkness you cannot bear.
My love. My sweet sweet love. Hear me:
I am safety, i wear an orange vest and headlamp. I am clear skies, and sunshine. I am a long open road to nowhere. I am teenage butterflies. I am the chest with the ******* that you will lie your head on during the night and find security. I am the shore after the wreck. I am freedom, beauty, passion, laughter and forever after. I am shelter, with blankets. I am the fullness of your void. I am the full stop to the end of your questions.
There is a storm coming.
You have tied yourself to the rigging. You are stood ready for the hurracaine. You glance briefly at me, and in your eyes is a child that is lost, that is lost, that is longing, that is hollow and alone, and does.not.understand. Why?
There is a storm coming.
The dam in your heart broke and the arteries flood your brain with, life, fear, and belief.
Take my hand, my love. I will be here. I will  not be, moved.
I am, a rock, to cling to. I am a storm shelter. I am a end to your beginning.
I will not leave. I will not go.  I be here in the fall, the ruin, the despise, the bitterness, the anger, the rejection, and the destruction. I will be here, with my arm, hung out to dry amongst the linen and the memories you drew on them to protect yourself from me.
My hand, it can hold your world. My hand can protect you. My hand, we can conquer the world, my love. My hand is yours, my hand is yours, my hand, is, yours.
Take it.
Fall to your knees, place my hand on your face as you weep the storm in to my world, and release the whole hurracaine within you. I will take that storm and absolve it from itself.
My hand, your cheek
My pulse, your heart.
My love.
Take my hand, release your storm.

*(now read again, whilst listening to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uffjii1hXzU&feature;=share&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9Ay9pKcP7K4WLmlE_GjKuqE)

I've learned all teachers of life taught me
I have always walked a strictest lin
Did all those who are my equals said to
And might I say did them better more so fine

But before my soul decided another lesson
To be born to free to be the captain of my soul
Way over time I researched few things sublime
And listenened to this very own soul of mine

Who gave any the right to instruct their way
Upon my soul since it became myself long ago
Its time I let go and its  time I flew to feelings new
Its time I listened to my souls experience to know

Time I undressed time I confessed its simplytime
That I took over inmy own souls fields of clover true
Well over time I ignored their oh so holy advice
Loved life more hell to heaven all things old and new

Time for a time I knew moments so fine ever sublime
Time I undressed confessed and by passed this mess
Well over time I loved more this soul of mine
And with a likwise thinker spent time and flew

(( I'VE  NEVER  BEEN  TO  ME  ))

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018

I have tried everything to get you out of my mind.
But its just impossible nothing can ever make me feel the way i feel when you touch me with your sweet skin and the amount of energy i have inmy body when I saw you. I can't forget your eyes that shine so bright into my soul it even make feel like I don't wanna die Just because I wanted to stay one more minute right beside you and that feeling you gave that finaly i was being loved i have never feel that way and it was the most amazing thing ever happened to me.
But like everything i this world, have an end.

Found alone, unappreciated.
Each finger trailing my bones, gazing intensely at me.
These judgemental stares surpass those glares encountered in life.
Found buries beside an untrimmed hedge, a locked door.
Never welcome, never cared for.
The foreign feel of these gloved hands.
This alien touch ******* me from all that I had left.
Nothing is left inmy possession.
Just looked at, not understood.
Each lain brick accounted for, not a thing out of place.
All these indentations eft by footprints mark what should have been my final resting place.

I can only ask the world of this one small favor if ever an hour shall fit and the words could be beacons of light and please just remind me to stay awoke with gentle wind at my back bringing grace into view as it recedes back amonst the ocean and the pillars of prayer that chatter those by the wailing wall and embraces those that tap upon the rattling door that keeps all the children in the haze of a pasture in the heat of the life it enables just as the psalm is his wisdoms delighte as the air blows through martrix bound code cadets out to circumvent a cataclysmic drive to mate and just move to another and then again in the canal of sight and sound and a collective failsafe that will abort a life like an absence that has been inflated around a parade float as the gathered selection of these types that think a giagantic caricature could ever be the answer we sought when the major and minor dont differ the playpen of such men and the zen of another culture without this beautif notion. Zen be my trigger anddplay in the realm of the game caught dead to its life inmy aim so i fire but miss by a mile in its eyes was the wild soulfire of the warwielding and battle crys deep in the sounds of the ones before whom never shot with this gun mans way to dwindle without any extra provocation needed as the sun can burn til its over and the sky will die oh sitting at the peak of a trip ive found in me somewhere just startled and sad to be him always knew this was unrelated but relevant reaching fingers darling to the baby of the fam a few people together bond with the twisting genetic tumble lay down with my chest to the sky of my own self saturated in the conversation last upon my drifty lips just slap at the man at the gate called the end in the ending of all and the affect makinf reflections by the bay of days wuth the haunting of its machine by the ghost of poor working soul
My friends say my parents have said then i forgot by the lake of recall made to the mists in its mouth in the water in the wet wisdom dreaming of man when list in the blanket of night.
Oh ******* words and ******* too if you think ive an answer for you just the sound of me laughing to pieces nothing will last but nothing claims so spread your arms open wide as rays pull you back from the brink and all can be whole if only for tonight swept tight in the skin of the crawl made to wander in search of another to seed as its life pours itself back out into another manic molecular arrangement is made up in script of those if its sun artic laughter so iced mended and cold rendered to cut to the deep of the mind absurd ol me and the powers that be wrapped so tight in the arm of celest the name of earth as of early where its charge made planets to swirl axioms everywhere you look and in every book and inside the dna of all these men... Lost as ever
**** the daylight and ******* howl at the moon and be that golden light that can make a symbolic stand never delivered from surrender that was left as his testament shook to the place you can go where you can hold as it blows the beginning back to its own conception and reduced back to the file used to make space time a funny little thingie in the gears of a train never ending stopping only in the valley of the stars in the chasm uninfered by the redundancies of intention

What i really want is just to build up a home. Where we happily live away from all this competition and pollution. Away from this dark side. I want to live in the brighter one. I want to build a home where on the door there is this name plate with our name craved with the wood and then there are our handprints . The bigger one being his and the tiny one is mine. And then besides the door is the postbox. The postbox that has got its ***** a little loose with rust all over. But, Ah! The happiness it gives when in the middle of the pile comes your mom's letter. And you get so excited that you never close the box and run into open the envelope. Then as you enter there is this massive wall that has so much of charm in it. There are these tiny snapshots of when we went to our honeymoon in the islands , There is this grand photo of our marriage. There are portraits made by you. And everything inside of that walls gives so much of satisfaction , so much of happiness , that even if something happens to US , we have so much to miss , so much to remember , so much to cry and so much to laugh tooo. All that's lighted up with very pretty xmas lights. And then besides the wall there is the kitchen. Oh! How we wish that we could just shift our bed over there. Our kitchen- it will be like the most enchanting place. All sorts of junk. And the fridge- everything from ice cream to alcohol , from Chocolates to candies. It will be our happy place. We will cook together. We will dance together until the oven buzzes. And we will eat like no one's watching. Like we haven't eaten for days , like , like its the last pizza we will ever taste. We will **** together , we will make fun of each other , and at the end of the day we will laugh so much about all the super crazy stuff we did. We will sleep on our bed remembering everything. And i swear you look just the prettiest head when you're asleep. So i pretend to sleep because i know you are gazing at me. I wait till your snoring starts and it doesnt take a while to start , because you are so good at sleeping. And then i just stare you my love with the deepest love inmy eyes. Feeling your breathe against mine ; And even though we have come a long way together , i still don't believe the fact that i got someone like you , the fact that you are so pretty and you are so kind and gentle and sweet and caring and the qualities they can never be described fully. So i just lay down there kiss you on your head and sleep with me wrapped around your arms.
Not every story has to have drama , some are just real life stories.

thatsh itlitt lepunk


           bitchshe

herfuk


                    inhair's

shortshaved


an

           dfu



    ckshe'


******>


                   'erhandssmall




fit so easily

inmy'andssmall that





fukkinbitsch

punkassshiiit.

Eatyour Beefingheartout FranklyZappa
Thisairguitarist hasyournumbereding
Sixanseven inmyveryown hothundrededing
Lessthanyourworth ansomuchymorexpensive
Thanpoorboyzin a rockingorchestralsonger
Noonebeats thisten steelfingeringwizardist
Intheimage of our charmless deceptionism
Ivestrutterdstuff wherestuff shouldntbestrutten
Thenseenmyself as othershaveneverseenme
Andbangedmyheaderer to the cosmicgodderer
Ivemimedasong where the wordsareallwrong
Andcameback foranencore anthensomemore
IvejammedwithJimi and hammeditupwithFreddie
DuckwalkedtoNewOrleansallthewayfromKansasCi­ty
ZZdmytopinacuteflipflop rollingoverwithBeethoven
Beenallalongthewatchtower anamnotareligiouser
Letalonealonely Jehoveringkinda windowdresser
BlindFaithsmyfaith the soundofoneslowhandClapton
Thatsgodinbluejeans he cansharemymirroranytime
Megodanthemidnightrambler ohwhatatriolivesinme
Wevewornout seventeenmirrors anfivemoteldoors
Butamtheking ofreflectedglory  inmyglassypalace
Wonderlandsgotnothingonmeangracelandsilluso­ry
TheKingmighthavehissoulfilledcamelotancastle
Mirrorsaretheuniv­erseofNarcissuseslookingatme
Lingeringonabluespalefacelikemealone­inreverie
Myfenderstratstrappedonmybluejeanedselfery
Slaying eachimagined audience gunslingerstyle
Zimmerman’s cubistfendering madeanartistoutofme
Thatharmonicasawarning forthestartofworldwarthree
IvedressedlikeKiss donethetwist ansetmygreatballsonfire
Anblewagollywithmissmolly cozIworespexlikeBuddyHolly
Soldmysoully to Beelzeebubby for sexndrugznrocknrolly
Beendrunkasaskunkanaoneleggedpunkanpogoedmys­elfsober
LivedinagarretwithaViciousSydBarretonthedarksideofaspoon­
BinZiggyingwithIggy anfedthe AnimalstothezoowithLou
Ohwhataperfectday to rearrange the theoryofevolution
Iveevenbeenjumperingbroomsticks withbonnieweeBrenda
Andwithmyonehandcuffclapping IfeltliketheprisonerofZenda
ThenshookenupmypelvistoElvis andtrystedmytrussatMadonna
Theformertwassublime thelatterwas likeaVirginonthedicriculous
Iveruinedmyhealth blownmywealth andyingwasacareeroption
Thenbeennbornagain anbecomeaZen anIonlyeatvegetarians
Ivebeendecievedtobelieve an I believe Ibelievedtodecieve
IduettedatriowithapreciousPearl justJanismeanBobbieMcGhee
Thehigherthethrilll thegreatertheFall the musictenthrallsusall
IvebeenaWhoan’If aThatan’aThem anseveraltypesofabbreviation
ShakespearesSister BecketsBrother An ChaucersCousin
Haveallplayedtheirliterarypart Inmyveryown Divine Comedy
Ivebeen a Door a Chair and a Floor covered in Spiral Carpets
Beatles Bugz  SuperfurryThugz antheoccasional Arctic Monkey
Haveplayedtheirpart inmy fantasticalanverymagical menagerie
Ivehuggedtrees an’creatureswithfleas an’hostsofgoldendaffodills
Beensavingwhaleswithpsychedelictales ImaSamurai eco-warrior
Theplanetssafe whileIvegotfaith ButI’llneverabandonmymirror
I’mthefoolwholefthishill arebelwithoutapplause I’masilentcinema
ComeeachMondayMonday I’lldescendthestairfwayfrommyheaven
Andworklikeapoormansson playingthatfoolwhoselefthishill
To be standing alone in the corner at All Tomorrows Parties.

li-ttle    de-mons  
                   yell-ing inmy head.
sick-ly    voi-ces
                         humming allmy toons
love-sick     riff-raff
                                lap-ping upmy blood
fun-ny  sun-day
                     girl walks all-alone  
stop. her.
drop. her.

Death
       for-thee
  does
        Wait.

My desk is a boring place.

I sit for hours scrolling through
long lists of emails, service requests;
barely enough coffee inmy cup
to erase the blur from my screen.

Ahh, my desk is a
boring place.

There’s a cat on my calendar that
stares at me in aperpetual state of
nervous anticipation,
as if awaiting my next movement
that it might spring out of view
and hide beyond the edge of it’s page.

But it doesn't- it sits and
gawks unmoving.

Outlook pings...

Yet another printer is down.
The same printer from last week.

What an absolute headache
printers are. But, at least it
relieves me of my desk.

My desk is a
boring place

When I return I may write a
line or two, but don't expect
too much.

Not from this poem.

This poem is a
boring poem.

© Nathan A. Brock