This moth and its flight haphazard,
I won't allow it in your mouth.
I can promise you, this one thing daddy,
I won't allow it the comfort of your dark.

A wishing comes in dreams of sunshine,
a blessing of a cup of good wine,
There's belief in concepts of heaven
but also disillusion with certain fusions.
I know I'm hated and its to be fated,
but the upon waited, won't be situated
in a waiting room where I left you,
In your eyes, you are not an old fool,
Wish my denial could never have cooled.....

I wish I had been a better son
than I left,
and as you are in the ICU,
i await dying breaths
like my mother before you,
and skies arn't blue,
but grey like the nurses outfits
in timely bits,
and the bereavement
are both our deaths.
I'll live on and wish I hadn't.

He has black a deep dark liver,
look at the slugs and how they sliver,
My hide is how their ghosts deliver,
sleeping in the cold of the Winter.

There's no but a fading doubt,
when he had a partner alone.
And now he's a side by his own.
A blunt-ness can never be grown.

Call up the police,
its a poisoned apple
or a bruised plum
down in the slums.
A cheap pub with ***,
isn't easy on the tum.

I deserve.........

Forever naked,
I'm bleak
to a
candle wick
and my shame
never blows out,
but its in no doubt.

Why won't the police,
just arrest me?
I've been waiting
to be more than free,
away from this room,
I call my tomb,
be with personalities
and if they are criminals,
I'm no different.
I'm sick of being alone.......

Its better on the outside,
than in the inside,
I'm no pearl in a clam,
but the battering rams,
Fiercely,
aggressive,
No true vet of Vietnam
but I still have PTSD,

We walk awkwardly
down the stairs,
that creak.
Don't look back,
and when I say,
pick up the slack,
make a good dash.

Out the front door,
snapping of her pores,
of the bruises
and the brown,
the tightening and soring,
His eyes raging with a crown,
and I become dizzy
the hero to the tale of lore,
is brutalized suddenly.

For Persons 15 years and older. Mind you, Kai will have her filter turned off to read this. She always does.


The more I suffer,
she ******* hates,
and this *******
doesn't wake,
chills I feel them,
her or to him,
justice isn't a whim,
She hates my guts,
and I'm incredibly
feeling splendid
fists in the city,
and of how wickedly
I radiantly
feel this feeling.
I hate to be loved,
so I love how you hate,
my face and my image,
snap to you, D.

I wish to bleed,
as she needs this,
as I'm a ****,
in the back garden,
not a four leaf clover
and I need to be burned,
black soil worm
light me up and clap
and this is my apology rap.

And my energy will sap,
promise if I do ******* die
you will not resuscitate,
Not ever seen a Cyclone,
met a ******* brick wall?
They don't call me Rhino,
Or the un-breakable,
for nothing my able,
without a reason to fight,
but I'm done with my rights
I'm now down your sights,
done with days and nights,
blacks and all the brights,
My purple smashed eyes
Bliss and drowning misses,
Parted agro and my *******,
I won't try a flight with no right
and a blight here with a created
Snap, Here comes another villain.

RGH.

Not for Under 15s to Read, Please.




Little sun-shine adjust,
never was any lust,
spoils go in the bag,
as do the red rags,
I never........
but seek upon bat's teeth,
as does the diseased rich.

You thought the worse,
but I'm not your curse,
I never wanted,
I do not wish,
I never wanted,
I do not fish,
I'm not holly
abandoned wood
you see on the TV.

Don't pretend,
this fly laid its eggs.
If the apple is rotten,
don't eat the ****.

I was born this little boy,
he doesn't rattle little toys,
he wishes for a neck spurt,
and toes that hit the dirt.

And then he gathers a bag,
For the suffocating
Peel the orange peel,
and splinters a seal
that can be a heal,
lost to cards that deal.
with a hole in plastic.

But it's a fairy-tale,
for all our sakes.
He always leaves it whole,
in the plastic so grown.

In a memorial of paper cuts,
near magazines of ****,
midnight mini-golf putts,
before their doors will shut,

Your blonde, wavery pony tail
set the boat with breaths to sail
Your green eyes lit up the fields,
for the trees that grew for miles.

Your skin lit up the skies at night,
your charisma burned so bright,
I took all the good drugs in winter
as we worked so well together,

All I cared was for your grin,
shaking the mixers and gin.
I may have crossed with my sins
but never invaded your skin.

You know I respected you greatly,
like when you took off your jumper,
I looked away in case your shirt,
gave me a glimpse of deniable flirt

I wish I was from your decade,
they all said we were so very able,
but I resisted their dumb words
This is reality and not a fable.

I must admit, to conflicted
of the guilt of my feelings,
and I can't save myself,
to die.
to die.
to die.......

I hungered for your skin,
and I wondered of your sins
and of everyone saying,
we should be a couple,
I spat in front of them,
as they just fantasized
and wondered...
But you were only 19
and I was twice at night
and older during the day.

Not for under 15s to read, please.


Stirring in a great ******* soup bowl,
fire lit underneath the soft black coals,
Imagine a field of red crops
And even as the rain drops,
smashes upon like demons on your face,
they're like blood filled water bombs.
A shock as your lips tastes the death,
as mirrors cracks upon your last breath.

Demons high-jack a HEARTBEAT
and in the flow of the WHEAT,
Yellowing dies black to nothing,
once, life meant and now corruption,
the hour strikes between 3.13.
Devil's minutes with no patience
Hijacks rapid eyes of your tossing
and intersects when you're turning
But the sacrifice needs live burning,
and now we remove you of your skin.

For over 15 of age,  readers.


There's toxicity,
in my green poison,
incredible hulk
never one to talk,
just rage, destruction
mutation test,
& then I get to rage
and out of my cage
blood oozes fiery
out comes flowing locks,
and this green fella,
I bet he has a great big ....
Not that I'm bi,
or lean to stringy ways,
I lean into paddling boats,
into the Paris love tunnels,
I'm goth in my over-coat,
Is that a good distraction?

Honest.....



Honest......

Under hot ashes, I turn to white dust,
A faker with a key with my whiskey flusk
I ask him, what's he trying to turn,
That's not my front door my friend,
you are mutilating my key against bricks
and now none of can get in to sleep,
what the hell was the purpose of that?
I thought as you wear a ******* hat,
You would be as smart as Dr Seuss,
tell me some random childish poems
to make up for that and maybe,
you can sleep in the front seat of my car,
but I take the roamy back as wide it pushes far.......

I like how when it rains,
but does not pour,
you get those little drizzles,
like a snail's trail,
flowing down the glass
like entering mass.

and when the hail hits
as you're driving
upon your wind-screen,
you feel comforted
and feel a sense of ease
at very long last.

And walking through
thunder of the storms,
the lightning and sounds,
light up distant nearby
and the soaking of hair,
lays your soul again to bare.

"All words,
Mother's last
Jesus in Christ,
take the time
for this rhyme"

He suffered for days,
for me its been decades,

How has being whipped,
and enslaved
and being hang,
for 3 days been horribly created
I could have endured that.

I won't wash off my father's
like what was of Jesus's
I was of our family's tree,
just another of the strangling,
Roped of the back yard gum-tree's

Blood is of a reptilic,
Frogs in the swamp,
being caught by kids,
and being splat to death,

Religion is not torturous,
ask the ones on the streets,
and the army of the fleet,
controlled is sacrilegious.

Ask the home-less girls,
who suffered more worse,
just true of their turf
and our minds still burst.

There's a constant sound of a crack,
Naturist sound as cards go snap,
as poisonous sounds
it doesn't goes down so well.
The moles from the grounds
comes up to a beaten map.
The eyes that do swell,
leads to fallen twill bells,
After the midnight hour,
and the beaten of flour.
Prostitution sells
but never-does-so-well,
and the lacking of the tinging
commercialism of tills......
Leads us down a path,
of targeting down a wraith,
sounds of ghosts,
our previous hosts,
Tides between the lost
A cast before dye bleeding.
Taunting of our breathing,
Tuiation of the black seedling,
or smelt the way its rotten?
There's nothing more to be said.
Have you never seen red seaweed?
Or smelt upon the way its worsens "death?"

Deadened are the deepest of seas,
Unlively un-like shores of trees,
Bravely is the boy with a mask
Cast with an imaginary task,
to be remembered and never passed
away like a drunk with his whiskey flask.

Her eyes have never looked more dreamily
Lovely, compared to mine and my tusks
yellowing and with skin feeling rougher,
as her's only gets so much smoother.

You'll think at the age of forty-seven,
she'll be less the sight of heavenly
And her blushing cheeks at the Tavern,
has me feel a school-boy again.

I'm glad I run into her after decades,
She had barely changed since youth
& my crush back then begins to craves
A few drinks keeps me from flustering
& her snow white skin & cheeky grin
has me thinking what could have been.......

Its amazing how the rowdy atmosphere
can still lead to silence between two
and a coincidence of the past and here,
leads to a reunion of a balanced fall.

Sunset rhymes
with ***** bets,
under the table,
for the able
exploit
the more vulnerable.
What we achieve,
and who we deceive,
can mean the guilty,
has no shame but to live,
Money will come pouring
before it's morning.

What if I was to die,
as you wanted me to,
It will erase questions of why
In a direction, birds will fly
except one who's different.

We line up in order like trees in the woods,
eyes on short skirts, of those tempting could,
ids on the ready and stamp our gleeful hands,
pour into the night-club, sin-full fun-filled lands.

Glasses sideway careful pourings of our youth
eyes gazing at skin, soft butter that'll soothe,
blue eyes, ditzy blonde, flashing of the beams,
a couple of ****-tails and the girl of our dreams

Make up elaborate stories to spike up her eyes,
cheek blushing of smiles fallen to naively told lies,
gentle are her godly hands like soft warm cotton,
each word inherited like a saint that has spoken

I'll never be a heaven's save,
To be carried away in the next wave,
There'll be no baptism,
A demon can't change suddenly.

Abyss now lays behind my black eyes
I've been carried away as innocence dies.
My eyes are more dead than a Raven's
My soul is that of a sunken Craven.

Red stains lay in my newly built chapel,
Nothing but my own ****** hand disciple,
sickness drains as the uppers stop working,
soon the opposite side of a puddle underneath.

Waving with our battle swords,
glaring eyes a-washing a storm of
a brisk of a morning's bird-call,
If you are to die, I'm already dead.

Mama used to grip my arm
as I punched myself repeatedly ,
on my un breakable head
for being different and an alien,
in a world that appeared to be dead.

I'm alone to haunting piano recitals,
The gentle playing of the flute,
The soothing of an acoustic guitar,
The stirring of the bees of a violin.

I remember one birthday
I had 4 presents
in front of me.
Before I would open
I would press down &
feel the wrapping paper.

I sighed as they were all soft,
and every kid knows
That sinking feeling.
I unwrapped nothing but clothes.

I tried to look excited
but it wasn't hard to notice,
something inside of me died.

Then they brought out a large box,
and I knew straight away,
this was going to be a console.

I used to always annoy my brother,
taking over his Atari 2600,
but this time and with glee,
I had the latest, Sega Master System.

If there's no motivation
like the emotions
of being stung by
European Wasps,
I feel like a cane toad,
without its fault,
as they were bred,
to rid Summer of flies....
And many were trodden
on and went splat.
Now how about that?
I'm in the doctor's room waiting,
Hoping its bad news and I'll lapse
before I enter the Abyss stage,
of when I hear the repeated knocking.

I wish I could just pour the mustard,
and don't tell me your marmite feelings.
Pour it on the hot-dog self-righteous
that wishes upon the broken creative.

My words always ends with chaos
since my life meant ever anything.
And lonely and guilt ever causes,
Don't you realize, I feel everything.
The yellow and the hot spicy sauces,
but my mind is as of all of my causes.....

Break me down in tomato bursts,
In this town hasn't seen the spurts
**** this once white force ferrying
and the salty and pepper within me.

These Rices and sauces
I was never once taught.
Nandos has me caught,
Temporarily hot spices.

I feel less anger and self loathe,
since the day Jesus broke up broth.
A Chimney always has its smoke,
& loose shaking homeless broke.

Imagine a ghost,
washing laundry,
as you sleep,
and all you kept.
I'm a ghost,
may be coughing
up blood,
but
I leave behind,
no cost
along
the coast.
Delivering,
the unkempt
to a feeling
you wish
you had knew.
My daddy,
This artist
wishes,
but my words
in my poetry
will tell you,
of this fool..........

It was always little touches,
like down on the beach shore,
my uncle and my ears,
fifty cents of the coins,
Reach down and he'll pierce,
and show me the silver.

My Aunty
teaching me piano,

Lost are the choir of God's words,
I am underneath my father's Burdon,
He loves me so true and unconditionally,
but he's my ***** and my enabling.

But he's not to blame,
I brought on all the shame,
and my disgrace-ful  name,
It is and always be broken,
but this is not my destiny,
I still see her little wings,
and lullabies
she would sing.

Strangers are freezing to pierce,
I was handsome in my twenties
I have the dancing in my memories
and short skirts forever teasing.

Now, I am but the movement,
made out of an artist's stone,
Leaving behind my youth,
Creaking and smashing a booth
to a woman that can finally sooth.

Honey never agreed with me
but the bees have never stung
as I brought my white van up
They would circulate me,
but they had this instinct,
of how they knew me.

I wish they stung me to death,
before I hurt the one of twelve,
and of Kate and others several,
in this two stanza brevity.
I deserve and wish for death,
before I can inhale another breath.

Those bees,
if I kicked the nest,
I'll be stung to red.

I was comfortable,
around their buzzing.

I am hiding
under the leaves
can't brave,
but tell me your story,
and if it leaves
but it craves,
A dragon lays.

I don't think,
but too sunken
I've seen your eyes
and your weeping,
leaves me for dead.

Figuratively,
but so tired
to live.
I'm just weary
and I don't fear
over my face
that's bleeding,
Before awaits
the garden
of the seeding,
red composting.

What can be worse,
trying to,
**** some-thing,
beautiful.
That thing,
is a conscious
of another
being.
I know
I mean nothing
as the fan,
blows me to
some-where.

Trouble is it
always gets me
and in the lifts
as wind shifts,
will always speak,

Angels are
humbling
and left are
just 4 words,
the hidden,
and arrested.

The scars all over my skin,
reminds me of the demons,
killing me successfully.
Jesus you can scream,
but all of this red blood,
was not of just yesterday,
but opened with my family tree.

I was cursed the day of my birth,
and inherited this vampire thirst.
I have ignored this **** curse
but it always seem to be there.....

I tried being a reborn Christian,
but so much vile not love, here.
I wanted to feel so much grace,
but it took me down back to where,
I became a monster in the waves,
Don't think for second that I crave,

So much sleep and I made the football team!!!
and my boss and I are working  in this dream,
My past is still existing when my body is still
I only ever find peace when  drunken-ness killed.

Don't wake up.
Never wake up.

I love the detail of rusty cars,
near the beach and out of reach,
flown down the cliff I can't reach,
too many witnesses for such a breach
many rocks to step down and too afar.

What's to aim for,
when your life is in the plains,
Try to best the one before,
as the clouds growl as it rains.

I live in the lucky country,
but tell that to the immigrants,
sent to centers where they suicide
and sadly purgatory begins again.

The media is killing our children,
They watch and see their lives threatened
Bad news is nothing but good news,
tell that to my aching suffering pen.

I remember the ballerina,
would do a three-time twirl,
and I would cheekily tease,
and say it was strawberry swirl.
She so impressed,
at only 5 years.
Sisterly,
She was the best.

You hold my hand, trembling fingers,
as I passionately kiss your neck,
a bad day, you can't cease to remember,
as I kiss your tummy, un-buttoning dress,

I lick your belly button, so subtle,
become the rubble after the puddle,
the versatile of the one who crumbles,
I'm the humble of all your struggles.

The sensual of one felt variable,
the Flammable of the biblical,
an audible of the radical,
the crucible of the volatile.

The article captures animal,
festival captures spectacle,
impossible becomes responsible,
accessible becomes the speakable.

I feel like,
my dry lips,
never be a star,
not even
chewing gum
casts me afar.

A car won't start,
The ignition,
always will fail.
As a paper ship sails
slowly goes under.

My eyes the color
of this ocean,
Green never seen,
except now,
as I'm drowning,
You can't ever flee,
the hurt stung by bees,
and what was within,
You hope was written.

Children angrily draw places I dare to crawl,
snapping crayons and enticing dragons,
shifting my blame to a tearful shame,
huffing, puffing, she's always running...
mirror fogged to erase physical flaws

Roping brevity teases and stirs the bees,
fantasy shattered of a ring and knees,
beauty but nor telepathic fiery demon,
pages torn out of today's point-ed sermon.

Huff and puff wishes to break concrete love,
love-birds teasing frantically, annoying above,
sunsets on a beach, not  which crushes,
knots carefully flushed out as mother brushes.

What is it you wish for,
blowing out the candles,
into silence and your chest,
starts to feel such agony,
leaving your tiny eyes,
to shut to slumber
as your last cough dies,
as your pale skin gets colder.

And your once warm hand
is now a freeze in a breeze
in the middle of two winters,
death is the name of chills,
and abandoned are our wills
A hunger that is so sacred,
God could be put on trial
if he felt the agony in our lives.
Giving us the power of free will,
lead to millions of children killed.

the summer swells as the sweat flows over,
caterpillar who eats the four leaf clover,
darker days as the thunder draws near,
end to drought but the storms cause fear.

Wooden foundation snaps, as I'm in the bath,
house smashes down but spared my life,
time to find another abandoned shelter,
one without needle injecting beggars.

My mother and brother are gone. My brother was unexpected. I was watching a horror film of a remake. The one about a ballet school of witches and students.  My dad walked in and his face was frozen white. He simply told me, my older brother was dead.
He asked if I wished to see him one last time but I refused.
It would have only led to more ruin.
I did see him though a day before the Funeral in his coffin. He looked peaceful but his lips were so blue as was his hands.
I touched his hand and it was like a freezer cold.

My mother died in the ICU unit. She had Pneumonia.
I said to the doctor, she has survived about 20 scenarios in the past. Do you just wish for her bed for the covid patients or can you save her. She has almost died but recovered all those times.
And each time a brick adds to my wall.
Survivor's guilt of how I would just take a sprint and smash my hard head  in a cemented wall.
I'll probably be dazed the first time but awake with blood spilling out and then I'll dash the second time and all will fade to black.

My mother apologized for the child abuse,  but the true suffering was not her apology. I asked God to stop tormenting her. Kidney Disease, the Bag,  shingles, heart and lungs. It was the shingles of my most disturbing moment. She was crying out from the nerve pain in her neck. I called my Dad and he called an ambulance.
But I can't get it out of my head.
21 years since she was diagnosed as kidney failure.
Her faith in God never withered but mine did.

What's been grown over,
with poison ivory
Green tastes of death,
as you struggle
with your breaths
Its been over taken,
My old life is missed.
Lips are a mask covered
Black and white colored
without a blue crayon
I can't cool my own death.

My eyes are not green any-more,
they are black like the abyss
scaring the seagull calls,
I knew it would come to this,
Only a fairy tale is forever more.

I feel each day a little small
Missing what was once bliss
Behind the concrete wall
And God is forever but not his
I am no zombie follower *****.

A black sun-shine
replaces the yellow
as I pour my wine
Burnt marshmallows
and sausages.......
Its moving closer
to this savage.
The alcohol is so fine,
I won't greet with a hello,
Will this be my last dine
as this world gets swallowed?

There's a heavenly sky,
that is killing me,
as I can't reach up,
just a creature that lays,
woken by pain beckons.
The demons won't shut up!

I never looked forward,
not even snaps so crispy,
The flesh of a lamb
I said to my dad
that I was alarmed,
Chickens are dumb
and the average cow,
but I won't eat the innocent.
Lambs are like best of pets
if you allow all of their lets.
Like doggies that are following,
They are of high intelligence
and the greed takers care of the rest.

You have a circle,
of love declared.
Then comes a triangle
and 2 becomes three.
Worse is the square,
as its four be-known,
I don't fight if you won't.
If I'm nothing to your eyes,
then voices tell me to depart.
I'm way too tired.
to offer my plea.

You told me,
no-one would
rip your skirt
and be the flirt,
You are every-thing,
Don't tell me this ****,
You are my only flame lit
And I sit so guiltily
as I need your body,
and kissing upon lips
that once came so easily.

A birthday cake,
swallowed by the make
I'm not a good person,
Demons dies with me
They will get released,
A corner shop
with 50 cent pieces,
and the playground
I still feel so *****,

I'm too tired to live.
I'm too tired to live
I'm just so tired and dead,
Abused again and again.....
I have no real friends.

A whistle won't taught,
or  humble me.
No lamb to be caught
I hide in the trees.
Its the summer heat,
Its always one blessing
when I feel a cool breeze,
and she is cute and a tease,
sneaking with me to a degree,
I'm in love and this is my decree.
We sneak out as your word figuratively
like a ****** tossing and turning in bed,
We'll be long gone by the mind that has said.

She loves me
but not enough
to save me.
Heavenly skies
I wished to be my
anchor someday.
Whistling breeze
offers no relief
from my heart-ache
and my suffering.
Another Groundhog
of a same old life
awaits this stray dog,
and vessels of my heart.
Bursts into red confetti,
like Italian spaghetti.
And you whiff it down
to be happy and **** me.
My idea of happiness,
will be the day of my death.