The last time the river beds drowned*
you knocked by the door and offered
sinking dreams of whales and fails
doomed stars burnt in flooded skies
tainted leaves heaved on angled heavens
visions of torture in trodden deserts
tensions of fractured love inserts

On the bridge of ambivalence, I tossed a coin
a plank set adorned with red ankh signatures
I took your hand, you drooling phantom!
It's nearly a year now, in your world runabouts
another day, a heavier destination, a hesitation
the silence, the demise, the whining ice arise
absent shoulders eating my independence

The freedom you longed in the winter breaks
dissipates thinly in the thunder stroked flakes
and the tears dried and my summer suffice
confronted by an endless long year in the cold bed
covered by conversations of the specter sceptered specks
deranged by miles and the longed played nights
on a realisation that you were never really there

Fleet along young one, the years are a swift ear
listening continuously, whilst switching promptly
making dreams from a mould of changing trims
flinching, twitching perceptions of new beginnings
for I no longer stay at the phone reaching, waiting
nor stay in the patch of haunted misery and hate
*join the next column and stop treading in my camp

I met her by chance
Standing in the middle of destiny
Governing all eyes who passed,
All who could not adress her.

The solitary star she was
With her own kind of light
That goes on fiery,

It runs from the night
And lends beauty to day,
Like the blaze of a dark Star,
Birth of a second life,
Ebony girl,
I rip myself from the serpent's tooth,
I awaken from a thousand days
Of forever and she brings
Me forth from oblivion,
I utter one word between my lips,

Ebony

The word of nocturnal beauty,
I wish to plant the seeds so
Loving, so caressing,
They grow inside her heart,
I bequeath it all,
Should it all be just a dream,
Running or flying,
She flanks the reality
And  pours her own brand
Of living waters,

Ebony girl,
Your lightning sweet and tremendous,
You give my clouds wind,
Warm me and hold me
Closer to the fire
Of your chest.

Broken chains, falling rains
at the crucifix of life we reign
Broken days, trading mails
as a sacrifice of broken days*

Hey you little puppet
take that gun, **** for flesh, **** for blood
Journey on, journey on
take those sins, they forbid to be curse
can you fit inside my pocket?  
Journey on, journey on
pull the trigger, for a thunder in the moments

Broken chains, falling rains
at the crucifix of life we reign
Broken days, trading mails
as a sacrifice of broken days

Hey you little muppet
take that book, re write history, tell us tales
carrying on, carrying on
take those lines,then type them up
are you the truth we should seek?
carrying on, carrying on
as a fiction of the day, for a thunder in the moments

Broken chains, falling rains
at the crucifix of life we reign
Broken days, trading mails
as a sacrifice of broken days

carrying on carrying on
journeying on journeying on
and they cry by the pool of their blood
carrying on carrying on
journeying on journeying on
and the whisper the silence of words

Plans derail as the express trail
in fails and frills of different pales
anticipating utter emancipation
at the edge of questionable hedges

Life is a consequential misunderstanding
of missed feelings, prodding in and on
within the podcast of blasting thoughts
withered in circumstances and instances  

Plans derail as the express trail
in figurative condensed formatted targets
of mere chance and dare determinism
at the edge of the unquestionable hedges

The once five year plans are a daily hurdle
of synchronised minutes in tested metric
and now the nine years of wilderness start
featured in circumstances and instances

Ropes are left unhang
at the demise of the fangs
as the babies cry on the arms
of unopened protested farms

No kin or even kings
but there is a keenness
as the wood toss on a saw
of the trims of time unsewn

I'll let them run and bathe
under the sunsets tale
I'll feed them rhythm and blues
as the skies covers all their hues

Count the stars ohh fairly dust
as the phantoms of love touch
in linguistic anticipation of chance
trading meanings, making winnings

In a room full of laughter and fantasy
on the different levels of unplanned
stormy felts of felt emotive response
of eons ago and pretense of the present

Count the stars ohh fairly dust
sprinkle this self sustainance in plenty
Unweighted and unchained from locks
clocks and clicks of despair and want

In a life full of obligation and expectation
Let me be within the dreamt memory
of the light casts of alone and bliss
as the night caress the unspent future

I have stuck in the house for  4 days and 5 nights
Painting the ceiling with the dew from the grass
I have been stuck in the seams as the sun fades
And the western green eventually lite

wow………
ageless ones put on the robe
at the shrug of the fob
and roll, not rob
ageless ones put on the crown
at the shrine of the throne
and roll, not rob

The things that we can never understand
Eradication of the things we carry on our sack
And when the angels speak they peak
(and i won't lie to you because they speak of the most  beautiful songs ever)

wow………
ageless ones put on the robe
at the shrug of the fob
and roll, not rob
ageless ones put on the crown
at the shrine of the throne
and roll, not rob

All the things we feel deep inside of our bones
Hide yourself in the deepest corner of the room
Turn the lights out and just flow with the glow

wow………
ageless ones put on the robe
at the shrug of the fob
and roll, not rob
ageless ones put on the crown
at the shrine of the throne
and roll, not rob

I have stuck in the house in 4 days and 5 nights
Painting the ceiling with the dew from the grass
I have been stuck in the seams as the sun fades
And the western green eventually lite