Blessed are the fools
who remember read ink.
Fooled are the blessed
who critically think.

Kaydee.

One. Death
Spending a lifetime
before the big reveal.
Though constantly decaying
we still cannot (skin) peel.
Held captive in our own flesh tomb
we wait for a sign saying
'Mortuary Room'

Two. Birth
You've served your time,
you're free to go.
Oh yeah it's your (death) day,
that's just so you know.
But didn't I die
or was that just a lie?
Next you'll tell me I'm conscious
and that I can fly.

Three. Life
You're free.
Go fly!

Poetry by Kaydee

The bones of the
not yet murdered,
hurriedly re-dressed
by the hands of the guilty.
Creating a cloak of invisibility
that no one can see.

Whispered words of
the guilty liars,
drowned in their own
breathy stench.
To conceal the truth
that no one can hear.

Words once tearfully written
still undiscovered.
(for time cannot heal)
that only I can feel.

The reaper knocks,
One, two, three
and I ask he call again.
Maybe tomorrow,
but I don't know why.

Poetry by Kaydee.

I still believe my eyes.
All I see
is my blindness.
I still believe my ears.
All I hear
are lies.
Yet I still quell the urge to fly.
And if you'd achieved,
after all you believed.
I'd be dead.

Memories of
sepia toned photo's
of a world once lived in.
Baggy shorts and huge shirts
of football games I once played in.

Are memories, just that.
In a playground once played in.

Though things have changed
some things remained,
like
the body I still live in.

Poetry by Kaydee.

Tomorrow.
Wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be a better day.
A better morning.
Afternoon.
Evening.

Tomorrow.
Wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be a better day.
A better morning.
Afternoon.
Evening.

and repeat.

and repeat.

I forgot how to cry.
Like the porcelain doll
in a white summer dress.
But just like it, I couldn't care less

Nor could I care more,
It was just too much.

My once teary eyes were useless.
My mind was blind.
Until I learned to love a little deeper.

I would never find, . . .
. . . me.

Poetry by Kaydee.

I caught a glimpse,
a butterfly net.
Your beauty destroyed
placard beauty, beset.
Flayed wings and
long body at rest,
all to see.
Why can't they
just leave you to
flutter,
to
be.

Kaydee.

In life,
not all is as it seems

said me . . ,
. . . . to me

whilst chatting in a dream.

Poetry by Kaydee.

Dress the bones with flesh
and cover them in skin.
Name this doll,
this mannequin.
This meat case
I live in.

Kaydee

Go on,
break me, shake me,
like I've never known.


What?
Go on.
What's up?


You've picked me up
and I'm already broken?


Oh sorry, have you got your receipt?

Poetry by Kaydee.

A vanta black with specks of white.
The darkest night, embedded light.
The finest flicks, raised painted grain.
Diagonal lines, depicting rain.

The only colour of sodium light,
all placed on sticks and stood upright.
They line the street and evenly placed.
The coldest night, a bitter taste.

Upon the path, a man and dog.
Both brisk in pace and breath of fog.
Icicles drip from frozen eaves.
Returning home, both kicking leaves.

Kaydee.

Inside the Catholic Church
the shepherd does lurch.
With a flock of sheep
for him to keep,
Using their belief,
he'll use them all for his relief
and he knows they won't tell,
for he'll send them to Hell.
To see the bad guy
who punishes the bad.
Yeah I know, and people believe this.
How sad!

It just makes me wonder
how much wealth they will plunder.
Defending the beasts,
sorry I do mean priests.
and if church walls could speak,
how much blackmail they'd seek
to keep the shepherd,
from the mild and the meek.

Poetry by Kaydee.

You won't change me
to suit your views.
It cannot be,
you'll always lose.

Your thoughts,
your chants.
For redefining,
I'll still repel
when I'm flat lining.

If you know me.
I write from many a different mind.
Yes, they're all mine
You cannot quell my thoughts.
I refuse.
No, I absolutely ******' refuse.
You cannot **** what's in my head.
I'll do that myself.
When I am dead.

Kaydee

Take a pop,
Sling a shot,
Marble in a hole.
These are games
we used to play.
All strikers
scoring goals.

Now we're all
just goalkeepers
trying to save it all.
Hold on to things
we never had
without dropping
the ball.

Poetry by Kaydee.

Ding **** ding.
Could you make any more?
The noise you're creating,
now my ears are sore.

You have a brass neck.
Who's pulling your strings,
and now every Sunday
a crowd turns up and sings.

So, ding **** ding.
Now, la la la
because you're a bell-end.
Yes, that's what you are!

Poetry by Kaydee.

At Prophets gate
in front of a jury.
Cannot be judged when
we have the same story.

Defined by our actions
yet separated by thought.
The battle lines drawn
based on **** we were taught.

The matrix created,
money to be made.
Dependent on memory,
reflected in grade.

Well how did you do
with the lessons you had?
Did you repeat the mistakes
of your Mum and your Dad?

So who is at fault?
We're all pawns in a game,
consuming their poison
for fortune and fame.

and now that it's over,
here is your prize!
That's right,
you get **** all
'cause everyone dies.

Poetry by Kaydee.

I don't have much but I have hope.
I promise, I have hope.
Cross my heart and hope to die.

Poetry by Kaydee.

After I am gone,
I might just stay.
Not for long but for
a short while anyway.

I'll see you in the daytime
and call your name at night.
Switching on the t.v,
turning off the light.

The temperature drops
and it is getting colder.
I'll breathe into your ear
whilst touching your shoulder.

"It's me, I'm still here"
"Yes, you heard me right"
I'll sit on your bed and
watch you all night.

Now you know it's me,
It's time for me to go.
I never ever left you.
I wanted you to know

Poetry by Kaydee

I'm on the edge.
I'm on the edge.
So many edges. . . .
with no chasms . . .
. . . . . . no freefall
. . . . I have crossed.
Overcome?

Where is my chasm?
"hurt"
"betrayal"
"pain, just pain"

I have overcome.

Where is my chasm?
"fatality"
"silence"
"peace"

No chasm, No edge.

Nothing.

Kaydee.

I write about death.
My art depicts death.
My life is about death.
Maybe for me life is death,
. . .    . . .    . . .
or on my death, I will find life.

Poetry by Kaydee

Stay on point,
remain on path.
A childhood thought,
a fiery wrath.
Safe and sound
now all is well.
Do not recall
your childhood hell.
The bedroom door,
that creeping light.
Remain tight lipped,
too young to fight.
When Mum goes out
stay quiet, I'd say.
Don't make a noise,
he'll go away.
Face buried deep,
the pillows cloak.
You got away,
your brother's broke.
He struck again,
too late to cry.
We couldn't tell,
he'd only lie.

Kaydee.

You turned so cold,
I thought you'd died.

Though your footprints
I could not find.

I followed to where
I thought you, I'd find.

But my mistake,
for with your love
I had gone blind.

And now I'll never know
If it was I . . . . . .

. . . . . you were ever meant to find.

Poetry by Kaydee.

I don't know about heaven
but angels, I do.
They've sent along an invite.
So go along, I might.

I hope to see the fireworks
and you enjoy the show.

A burning red, remembering
the venomous words you said.

A calming green, reminding
you of what could have been.

A cold and sombre blue, dead
thanks to you.
***

Poetry by Kaydee.

Awww, such pity for the
narrow minded fool.

I gouge.
My finger, my tool.

Awww, pity . . , fool.
I slice.
My blade, my tool.

Awww, pity . . , fool.
I grind.
My hack-saw, my tool.

Awww, pity . . , fool.
I bury.
My shovel, my tool.

Tell me . . ,
You or me.

I rule.

Kaydee.

I'm a future without brakes.
It's the only way to stop the pain
and my heart, the way it aches.
Red lights can't stop me now.

I'm nearly there.
I'm on the brink
of something great.
This time's my time
to celebrate.

My twin the mirror,
she looks just like me
Correcting mistakes,
I'll one day be free.

With words from my head
relayed with my tongue.
I write my own words,
I'll sing my own song.

Sorry I couldn't wrap it,
it's still warm and wet.
I thought you should have it
in case you ever forget.

Kaydee.

It seemed automatic,
the things that you'd do.
I never expected.
Not this,
not from you!

Now that you've done it,
how do you feel?
I never thought that I'd say it,
but yeah.
It felt real!

Poetry by Kaydee

Hey, that's my Gran!
She's not ******* demented.
She lived on her own
in a house that she rented.
This is how it used to be
when I'd knock on her door
and shout "Hey Gran, it's me!"

Through her curtain,
a bi-focaled rim.
She threatened the Police,
"I don't recognize him"
Although I knew her,
she didn't know me
and from that day on,
this is how it would be.

Poetry by Kaydee

The pipes began to pipe some more.
Baby don't rush,
baby don't rush.
Darling take some time, some more.
Please
hear my hush,
hear my hush.
I'm not ready no more,
not ready, no.
Only when you hear them sing
you'll know.
Baby you'll know,
you'll know it's time to go. . .
. . to go.

Goodbye.

Yes,
yes I hear the pipes.
Stay with me.
Hold my hand.
Shhh, I hear your hush
Shhh, I hear your hush.
I'm not ready,
I'm not ready, too.
They're calling me.
They're calling me, from you.
I know,
I know it's time to go.

Goodbye.

Would we halve the pain
if we shared it?
Or even better,
be spared it
'cause I'd give
you my rose
if
you
did.
x

Poetry by Kaydee

For all we know
we'll meet again.
The in between,
not now or then.
If I go first
I'll wait for you.
Your guiding light
to see you through.
I'll hold your hand
when you are sad.
I'll cry for you
throughout the bad.
I love you now
like I loved you then.
I'll still love you
when we meet again.

Poetry by Kaydee.

This writer HAS been damaged.
This writer WILL, well, who knows.
This writer IS distracted with life
and all that life tries to **** her with.

I don't understand it but then I am happy with life* (go me!)

p.s Is she still alive? Who knows.

Poetry by Kaydee

Ashes to ashes
dust to . . .
Sorry,
I didn't hear you scratching
but
I did hear your voice.

I looked into your eyes.
Nothing.
I tried your pulse.
Nothing.
There was no heartbeat.
Nothing,
but I did hear your voice.

I love you too.
Rest in peace.

Poetry by Kaydee.