If I could rip my name
From your rotten mouth
And hit you across the face with it
To show you how ******* hurt I am
Then I would do it
You don't see anything
Besides your own ******* feelings
Self centered
Attention *****

I chew my nails off
even after a perfect night and day
because in the early sun of the first of this month,
you pushed my hair from my face and whispered,
"Goodmorning," with a smile
and I will miss you
like I will miss scraping my body against a blade
or sliding against a stage
leaving my heart in the spotlight.
Because just like that blade,
one day you will hurt me, I guess,
but you'll be in my dreams
and I'll wish to have you back to calm my shaking hands.

Silvine Blockster

had a book

which it seems

everywhere he took

and thus as is

always the case

as when such books

are ferried in open space

it was not unusual

for folk to ask

if they could look

inside Silvines Blokcsters book

But upon not such uncivil pleas

he would become incenced

and wobble most peculiarly

at the knees

rant and even rave

shout and squeal

but he never would reveal

the pages of the books appeal

so once upon a dark and dreary night

when Mr Poe was real and truly out of sight

some citizens upon themselves they took

a vow to knock Silvine Blockster on the head

and steal his precious book

but alas dear reader

the blow they cast

caused poor Silvine Blockster

to breath his last

all fled in panic but one

who stayed fast

and stood there to the very last

he took a furtive look

inside the book

his knees buckled

his face turned white

and from head to toe

was filled with fright

but the book

he could not let go

this brought a smile to Mr Poe

who was not there

as well you know

now Mr Rephil Pad had a book

which it seems

everywhere he took

and when citizens

begged to take a look

his face whould turn green

and he would puke

and dear reader

please beware

for I do not mean to scare

if you encounter

Mr Rephil Pad

under no circumstnce

ask to look

inside his book

or enter into confederation

with those, who for just one peek

would crack his skull

and watch blood leak

for upon this crinkled parchement

fited and forgotten ink

tells of a curse

of which you must not think

a death note

you must not read

on this very subject

Mr Poe and I and of course the Raven

on this subject are all agreed

do I possess an inner reality
one of hallucinatory psychosis
and if so is it
incorruptible
immutable
does it float on my breath
confiscating my words
is it a projection of my self
like watching a movie
disconnected
yet caught on the edge
of a dematerialization
which reflects images that mob my head
causing me to think of rats
that slink out of drains at noon
and whispers in the mouth
like a static interference on my mind

how can I make a translation
of these never before felt feelings
if their language I don’t possess
one of which mine ears
have never had a previliage
of previous precous encounter
and one which overwhelms so powerfully
mine eyes;  and my tongue but in realisaton
is powerless to pronounce
yet can do nothing else than confront them
these feelings, these feelings, oh these feelings
a painted mosiac of plasure and gulit
that leaves me in such a quandadry as I don’t know why
yet has me beliebve that the only thing  I trust
any longer is this very moment; the moment with him
where pure and untainted feeelings break upon me
as foamed waves upon a pebbled beach
where convention does disintigarte
in splintering bursts of Vulacn light
oh to be yet disintangled in my mind
to be detached, feeling each succeeeding thought
as it seperates itself from the centreal core of my mind
to examine them in the srange sub-lit detachement
where I find myelf now floating
there is no known languange for its expression
these feelings, these felings, these feelings
only Raleigh, only Raleigh, I hope

and sometimes it is because the words dry up on my tongue
and sometimes it is because I do not know how to say it

more than often I do not write
because I am afraid.

Me like a likkle of what ya got

'Cause I a zero not got a lot

I talks to me pastor

'im a serious Judah rasta.

But me lives alone in this zone

I got to find I a way back home.

Me know me got life a wee bit wrong

And me never listen to da Masters song.

But now I got I a brand new deal

Me praise Jah 'cause 'im is real.

I gwan to church and say me tings

Jah he answer......me telephone rings.

Hello who' im dat? and 'im say it is I de righteous cat

Den I fall down and me tears dey come

But 'im say rise up man you is my son.

Den me knows dat dis is da time

Me knows me faith is bang on da line.

Jah Jah 'im see me right

Yea even thru de dark of de night

'im me saviour me know dat now

'im smooth da lines off from my brow.

Jah Jah rule.

Jah is cool.

Snow capped mountains,
Bald flights of soaring eagle,
Dual forms Godhead.

Turn on the moon
and I will dance for you.