Met jou patetiese pantomiem teen n God wat jy haat
verkrag jy harte en bevestig sy bestaan.

*** seer voel jou vuiste as jy slaan na die wind?
*** groot voel jou ego met die roem wat jy vind?

Swakelinge swig soos skape voor jou opstand en hype
Jou talent is verduister in verganklike tripe.

Jy is nie die eerste of laaste wat laster,
wat liefde verloor met die haat wat jy koester.

Ons is almal maar net wasems wat verdwyn in die mis
tot verniet gaan ons woede en onheilige twis.

Daar is nog genade terwyl die son skyn
om omkeer te maak van die krakende pyn.

Trek my siel uit met swart onlogiese krapmerke op my pick n pay strokie.

Breek my fingers af op n hout skryf blad
en hou die honde naby vir die bene wat spat.

Vermergel dan my vellies
en gooi dit op n graf
en se dis vir al die girlys
-dis van papers wat smag.

Edel en opreg is die regter se kaf.
Heilig is die helde van die bars van die nag.
Ons onthou die spoke van Oranje stad,
Ons kleef aan hulle woorde soos n tros vol kak.
Ons hou van die serries en die doef van Jak,
En moenie met my stry nie ek sal jou in pak.

Melodie jou wysie met ewige tone,
mengel mooi jou woordtjies met jou oulike drome.
Hou die fort van veiligheid en nasionalisme,
Wees n patriot en vermoor Anglisisme.

Beskerm jou mother language teen n kombuis taal.
Daar is niks in hierdie wereld wat die taal mag vaal.

Ill rip out your eyeballs as ornaments for my ears,
and inflict on you the nightmares that you dished out for years.
You will live in my dungeon and feed on dry bread
while I feast at a table close to your head.
And for every birthday I'll cut off one finger
and leave it to rot so the smell of it lingers.

You will keep your tongue for the names you'll recite
of the ones that you hurt and treated with spite.
And the day that the terror expires your life
I'll hang you on a lamp pole on the highway in full sight.
And you will be remembered as a pathetic soul
who picked on gentle women you tried to control.

And justice will rise like a bright morning sun,
A coward is dead and his abusing is done.

I can feel her breathe again.

Glimpses of colour glimmer through the shadows of the past,
I see my poetry returning in an orange dress.

We held hands and drank wine in each others souls.

The flowers fall like sweeties
in the packet of my mind.
The answer flows completely
from the hand that stops the time.

The questions that were seeking
could potentially leave us blind
to the poetry that's creeping
to the rhythm of the times.
  
The finders fees of finding gold
are deeply grained in laws.
The crawling finger grasping
for the love of ***** ******.

The sailor tongues are swaggering
with anticipating  throws,
of innocent and eloquent
shows of pretty hoes.

The energy of the sea has a body of her own.

Breathe her
and be a hundred miles strong.
Touch her
and know where you belong.

Many women are compared to her magnificence,
yet beauty belongs to her throughout all the ages,
and no man can comprehend the depth
of her furious love.

And when all have deserted us,
she still remains.

There was a snail (named Dale)
with a very long tail
who ventured off into the world.
He said to himself
(Dale the snail)
I'd love to meet a bootiful goil.

So in a flash from space,
with mucus running down her face,
came an alien creature called Joan,
She saw a silver line
(it was a snail trail)
and followed it to see where it goes.

And far in ...the distance
she saw in an instance
at the end of the snail trail sparkling in the sun-
A slimy and sweet
creature she'd love to meet
with a shell on his back for a home.

She said:"I do declare,
you look dashing and fair"
as bubbles oozed from her eyes.
Dale just blushed,
as his face lit up,
and said: "aw you're just saying that you sassy young blob of an alien gawjus sweet thing with no hair :)"

She looked at this tiny dream of a slobber,
he was in awe at her globber.
But their hearts sank at their difference in size.
She was glandular large
like a bright yellow barge
and he was as small as a splarge.

A stick insect saw -
the tragedy of it all
and came up with a very cunning plan.
He knew a wizard once
who ate snails for lunch,
they could trick him to changing her small...

As he told them the tale,
their faces went pale
but their love was too strong for the fear.
So they  slithered and shlozzered
to Joan's flying saucer
to find the castle of Wizzy the ****.

The wizard was waiting
with his eyes full of hating
and a knife and a fork in each hand.
There was garlic and salt
that he took from his vault
and he drooled on his beard as he sang:

"Alien Shpeegle
with shnails in shmeegle,
a delightful shurprishe for a man!
Groggy my groach
with shome shlime on my toasht"
and he pranced and danced with his band.

The spacecraft landed,
unexpectant of ambush,
the couple wanderd on in.
Wizzy swung from a rafter
and trapped Dale in a corner,
and said: "My you'll go well with my Shtew!"

Joan got mad
and rolled on to her lad
and ****** the wizard into her goo.
She suddenly felt all tingly
as she turned into a twinky,
there was nothing more she could do.

The Wizard escaped
and poor Dale met his fate,
and was smeared on the twinky sliced in two.
Wizzy gobbled them up
with some glee in his cup,
and then succumbed to food poisoning goo.

So it seemed that it ended
on that dark cold September,
for the lovers who's loving was doomed...
But on a planet far away
at the early break of day
two souls bubbled in primordial stew.

An amoeba named Dale
and an amoeba named Joan
were floating in bubbles of gas,
So deep the attraction
-the magnetized action,
they could now be together at last. 

MacBain splutters,
long winded speeches,
intoxicating stutters.

Whisky reeks volumes on volumes of volumes,
unfathomable mysteries on infallible fumes.

Helga looks hideously **** tonight,
the ghoul in the corner looks up for a fight.
The toilet's transforming into a white telephone,
just one last drink until the drinking is done.

Redshot eyes light another cigarette,
Shooter all round,
and a beer what the heck!

The dance floor is moving like a seasick ship,
We all feel like rock stars defining whats hip.

I'm your white trash baby,
I'm your yellow-belly ****.
I'm your world flushed down the toilet,
oh yeah baby I'm the one.
I'm just useless information
in this endless sea of words.
Just take my hand I'll make you
***
undone.

I got no direction and I aint got brains.
I'm your road to nowhere.
I'm your road to pain.
So come kiss me honey
let me blow your little mind.

I'll teach you what it's like to fall

from grace.

The broken mold lies screaming with hopelessness,
its purpose lost-
the clay has discarded the form the artist wanted to emulate.

The mistake,
the fault,
the glitch,
warped from the copy to become an original-
not as desired or required,
but having a will of its own.

To realise the dream,
is to satisfy the itch.

To wake from the dredge
is the Life on the edge.

The fault of finding freedom from frigidity.

Spectacular views are seen when you wake from the dream
and the colours scream like coffee and cream

Laugh at the imagery,
the cardboard cutout words strung together like sweet christmas decorations.
Fall in the pool
like a funny bunny cartoon.

Be the sad clown for one more noisy day-
and while you're at it:
brush a giraffes teeth.

Smile at the dreary monotony
and greet the ever grey sky
like a buzzy nook not.

The ocean called me to the roaring waters,
I crashed to the depths held fast by it's furious glory.

Panick stricken I fought to find my way-
my lungs burnt with salt
and my soul anguished over all my dreams that would die.

At fist Ihated this cruel bitter sea,
but she answered soft as heaven
with her love song for sailors and
other lost souls.

Peace flowed from the blue depths
and I knew I'd never leave.

Mystery
the plug of our insatiable appetite
calls on soft winds
"destiny maybe?"

Dont solve her completely
or she'll die and you'll miss her,
just taste her,
enjoy her
let her be
free

There was this old dawg from Japan,
who thought his left arm was a ham.
He salted it lightly
and took out a bitey
and screamed for some more as he ran.

----------------------------------------------

There was this young girl from the stars,
who stopped for some pudding on Mars.
The more that she ate,
the more she lost weight
until all that was left was her ****.

----------------------------------------------

I knew a young duck called magoo,
who liked to spend time at the zoo,
when the lion escaped,
he put on his cape
and fed everyone carnivore stew.

----------------------------------------------

There once was a girl called Cherise,
who befriended a flock of white geese.
They taught her to fly,
and as years passed by,
she grew feathers, two wings and a beak.

-----------------------------------------------

You know the inventor called Einstein?
He once had beer with his eisbein....
A rock n Roll pout
soon formed on his snout
and now he listens to Rammstein.

-----------------------------------------------

This­ ninja loved his katana-
he used it to cut through bananas,
one wicked night
he slipped with a fright
and cut off is head in the drama.

Hide and seek,
I take a peek,
you come so near
then disappear.

I see your smile
but in just a while
I'll hide away
for another day.

the game I play
is truth and dare,
I've worn it out
like an old worn rag.

I don't know you,
you don't know me,
I wont tell
but I actually care.

It's a shallow life
and a shallow dream,
alluded hope,
illusion love,
you're not actually there-

My million pretty faces on an empty fake pedestal.

You weave through my life
like a dream
turned nightmare
turned dream
turned nightmare.

Time is so ****** short to waste it on *******,
Cant you see I'm trying to find you?
How high must I build my castle?

How is it that you're so illusive and far away-
but your scent fills the room
and chokes me with sweetness?
I hate this incessant soppiness!
Argh!

My crazy obsession I try to lie and hide so well-
But it's written on my face in flashing neon colours,
desperation is so ******* unattractive!

Where in heavens name can I find myself a cheap plastic heart?
That doesn't breathe
or feel the need to heal?

If you want money I'll buy you.
If you want freedom I'll lie to you.
If you want a bicycle-
well I'm not really into cycling but I'll see what i can do.

I see so much fear in your eyes-
relationships shipwrecked-
and now you've made your mind up about the facts of life.
You've become the rock of Gibraltar-
tough as nails.

You're scary-
ready to weather any storms-
lonely-
but I still know you're soft inside...

You're just choosing the lesser of two evils-
well for now at least.

I know you still cry for your dreams,
stories that make you long,
but then you remember.

Hey! I get just as **** scared.
I mean, who burns themselves time and time and time again
without changing their formulas on life?

I do.

Come dream with me my love,
Feel what it's like to be young and alive once again.

I know there are dragons and fire and chains,
and the tower you're in has become home and you feel safe in there.

But it's still a prison that holds you,
and I know how you cry through the lonely nights,
and I know all your princes deserted you,
and I know that hope has laid you bare.

How I long to fight for you.

I know I'm only a poor boy,
and I have all my own demons still to face.

But I want to build you a castle of comfort,
a free place where you can wake up to my smile.

I hate the scars they've left on your heart,
and the way the crushed your wings.

I know your strenght is weak my love,
I just need you to say yes and to take my hand.

She's a hand me own girl-
she started off with dreams
and hopes of love
and romance
and ended up
used
and worn by men
who didn't give a ****
about what she's worth.

She begins her night on town
hard arsed and cynical
but after a few drinks-
loneliness shows
from her mask that hangs
akwardly
off her scarred pretty face.

I approach her from my own shy bruised seat and my loneliness finds hers.

When I was a dreamer
patience was easy,
but then again
maybe patience was my blindness.

Everything must happen now!
How do I play this game right?
Man I hate these games.

Cat and mouse,
cat and mouse,
cat eats mouse
and then cat gets poisoned by mouse
and dies infected with bitterness.

I've died a thousand times over
and I still die whenever I meet a beautiful woman.

I try to be suave and lighthearted-
to pretend to be a dream,
a hope,
but my heart explodes inside me
and I stand there naked ad exposed.

I never was a good liar.

Before long I see her
kissing a better liar than I am.

I know she was not my dream to begin with
but still anger burns inside me:
I cant get what I want and i cant settle for what i don't want.

Typical spoilt brat.

I go home alone thinking-
maybe I'm the hand me down girl.

Fluffy bunnies bouncing bouncing
a little dear is pouncing pouncing...

Fresh green meadows
clear blue skies-
daisies dance
with butterflies!

a picnic blanket
with lots to eat :)
a big fat tree
to stop the heat-

wine wine wine
for us to dine,
oh my stars
im on cloud 9!

Earth
Scorched

Devoid of
Life
Love
Memories
Artifacts

Enveloped
by a dying sun

The skin we are in

is first formed
then stretched
then dried and shrivelled
then decomposed
and eaten by worms.

Lasting beauty is a legacy,
not a face.

Flowers for my one-eyed girl.
You used to be a beauty queen.
I stole you when you were 18.

And I broke you in,
I broke you in,
I broke your bones
because you were a wild wild creature.

A needle for my beauty queen,
I'll give you everything you'll dream,
Baby wont you marry me.

And I'll break you in,
I'll break you in,
I'll break your bones
because you are a wild wild creature.

Your scars catch your tears
oh so beautifully.
Your scars hide your young young years
oh so beautifully.

So have another whiskey on me
and stop your crying.

I'm dreaming of my darling Darling,
so fragile and insecure.
The meadows sway so softly for her,
as angels look on down.
The wisdom of a thousand ages
makes her forget her pain.
The shadows that surround her there
are whispering her name...

Shiloh.
You've found your peace at last.
Shiloh.
It happened all so fast.

Your love-rose has bloomed on this tower of thorns,
and your waiting time has passed.
The problem of trying to figure it out
has given way to love.

(bridge):
Sweet dreamer,
keep on dreaming,
close your little eyes.
Hey child,
save your blindness,
for the hardness of this world.
The sparkling stars cry tears of joy,
just catch them in your hand.
The butterflies will lift you up to the rainbow in the sky.

Shiloh- is where I build my home.
Shiloh- beside the quiet streams.
Shiloh- a symphony of beauty.
Shiloh- who can compare?
Shiloh- whenever you are there-
it's Shiloh.

(repeat bridge)

My world
My whole wide world
is burning just for you.
My world
My whole wide world
is turning just for you.
Shiloh- a symphony of beauty.
Shiloh- who can compare?
Shiloh- whenever you are there-
it's Shiloh.

I wish I was a lighter I
that touched the clouds as they rolled by
and on the wings of joy I'd fly
far into the bluest sky

I wish that I had held it strong
held it true as we went along
and when the night came I was brave
and fought the shadows from my cave

But I lost my heart one day
in your smile as you drove away
and madness then consumed my mind
I was wrong, I was blind

because in you hope I saw
false as every time before
and I tried to cage you like a bird
with writing out my pretty words

I wish I was as cold as snow
cooled beneath an arctic wind
with frozen blood that could not feel
and no need to make me heal

I wish that I could see the lies
wedged with wires in my mind
I was not yours and you weren't mine
We are angels of a different kind

I wish that I could fix this mess
my insanity made my deeds digress
because its hard to let go of someone I touched
who told me that she loved me much

If I could go and fix the past
and make it better, make it last
I would be my closest friend
a hero that won in the end

But time can't bend back to repair
it's sealed and done forever there
and we are all just broken clocks
chained within and sealed with locks

And you were just a passer by
on a break, saying hi
And I was looking for a missing piece
or maybe just some pain relief

I've been unfair and been unkind
you did not deserve to see my despair
but you responded with human care
I think somehow you understand

And I will be well in the end
as I always get up again
and I'll try to leave this emo ****
it's a bit of an embarrassment

Made for the monster
Played by the pauper
Aged by the sage
Loved by the lunatic
-it's neck broken by the *******.

Played before kings,
Sang shivers and dreams,
Was a woman
a lover
a poet
a thing...

Now waits
mounted
on a poor man's wall,
For a master
to recall:
the hidden,
the mystery,
the music-
its all in all.

I am bored with love,
and it's passionless limbs that drape over my bed
and it's lethargic state of impotence
while it still idiotically wears that same red heart.

There we were alone in togetherness,
trying to build dreams with two by fours and glue,
but even a home wouldn't bind us
when our hearts lived so alone...

Poetic vows cliched into nothingness,
like all words eventually do,
and we allowed our bodies to become
another pair of hollow shadows
that made love to walls
instead of to each other.

And still we wondered why
the roses were dying.

Wake up!
Burn!
BUUUURN!
Leave that bland man
who can't understand
your passion he caged!
Your fire!

Wake UP!
Sell it all!
All your comforts you've gathered-
all the years!
BURN your bridges-
Your standing-
Your convenience-

I want EVERYTHING!
BURN!

Lets rent a room
and live it up!
Forget it all!
Just you and me
and blazing bed sheets-
lets burn this lust on both ends!

Until there are not even dying embers!
Until all that's left- cold ash!
Until there is no more!
No purpose!
No direction!
Destitute!
Lost!

Until all that's left:
Regret
Resentment
Hatred

WAKE UP!

that's all I ask,
and then-
goodbye.

I am just another traveller
that is knocking on your door
staying at your cheap motel
like so many men before.
I’ve been here so many times
it’s easier to ignore-
that innocence has lost its life
and it’s bleeding on the floor.

You are just another pretty face
that led me to her room.
I recognise the same perfume
with a slightly different guise.
When I’m drugged inside your secret place,
it seems that hope’s alive,
but the simplicity of finding you
is only in my mind.

A slave to hate is free from love,
a slave to mediocrity- free from passion.

A slave to confinement is free from wandering,
a slave to blindness- free from seeing.

We are all slaves,
all free,
all a contradiction.

poor littow parsite,
wer have you beeny?
Ive gotten my nanny
to knit you a beanie.
Your sores on my skin
are going all cleany
Im sorry I squashed you,
Im such a meanie.

We bandage our tender hearts with cast iron strips,
constricting the blood flow to our faces,
pale skin with a waining zest for life.

There is an extra shelf in our closets for home-made masks,
the masks are poorly made
and our true pale skin can be easily seen
through the cracks in our bright coloured ornaments.

It's a **** shame about our cut up hearts.
If they could heal instead of hide,
then dreamers would be the true world changers,
and love would be a possibility for us all.

But our cynacism imprisons our weak minds
in dungeons of hopelessness and pretentiousness.
Our talk traps us through regurgitated drivel,
we talk **** with loud uttering
as if our **** holds in it the secrets of the universe.
Yet in the mean time-
the very words we think will protect us from this wild wild world
expose us as fools and make us soft tarkets-
propelling us further into loneliness.

At least we live in the delusion that we are now all grown up.

Baby just born,
this new world you won,
destiny's is open,
your journeys begun.

You cry for the sorrow you're still going to feel,
for all the confusion and broken souls that kneel.

You cry for the beautiful sunsets you will see,
the pain of love's passion and the horrors that be.

So much anticipation that you don't understand,
so much expectations of what will be wrought by your hands.

Will you be a hero who will rise and break through?
Or just another chancer with nothing to do?
Will you be a saviour defining this age?
Or just another traveler sailing the page?

The thorns pierce you deep as you churn in your sleep,
The future still open for the power you keep.

But for now enjoy the agony of just trying to survive,
be consumed with the wonder of being alive,
pierce our hearts with your intense and innocent glare,
let us carry you on to the cross you will bare.

We will build you up with the best that we have,
we will give you our dreams and the best of our rags,
you will eat our truths and mimic our faults,
You will sift our souls and take what is yours.

And then just like that your colours will fade,
disappearing in the mist all the wonders you made,
even as you entered your life's ticking down,
it is appointed to all to receive our burial crown.

I pray you will make your mark on the history books
of a rich beautiful life breathing beyond the boundaries
of your mortality and being remembered just a bit longer
until this world is passed too and all is forgotten.

Never lose the wonder,
never lose the tears,
never forget you were carried
until the day you're buried.

You are our hope for something new and something different,
a creative spark to erase our failures and apathy,
Namaste, we bow to you,
Be, my boy, and take what's due to you.

That manipulative shot glass-
blew my brains with black n blue ***** bullets
and with blinded passion and mixed emotions,
I glided gently off my high bar stool,
and found myself nestled neatly
on my ****.

She buried my body at Loggers lake,
Her sweet revenge,
my bitter mistake.
The leaves were brown and yellow and red,
at the final place
I crashed my head.

Ayr ye scurvy turnpike,
turn yer eyes from me!
The beauty of yer blizzard blue
tears me flannel heart.

Ye bake me mind into applesauce
that hotly drools on down,
me stomache is dissolvin-
all me courage ye have drowned.

Ayre ye wretched rogue of lies,
no one could be so fair.
Must be an imagination demon
with soft an tender hair.

When yer tongue tangs sharply on me lips
me life is drained and dying.
shut that song of love ye sing
that sets me soul a flyin.

Ayre ye **** banshee
Don't never let me go,
Grip me with yer slender claws
so closely we can gro.

This world can't stop yer fire
were gonna burn it down,
with nights of satin passion
were gonna paint the town.

Ayre me ***** of wonders,
ye know I keep ye dear.
I thank ye for yer nightmares
that ye give me every year.

She is sick-
an infected rose-
with broken thorns-
ailing beauty-
ready to be discarded-
only good for compost-
Ill meet her there.

Tonight the starving children are on my mind,
and how I carry on,
as if I'm blind.

The sorrow is not mine to bare,
so I carry on as if they aren't there.

I ***** and moan about a wounded heart,
how someone stole my dues today.
I stuff my mouth with beer and bread,
and a shallow laugh gongs from the hole in my head.

I know those kids are selfish too,
and want to live just like me and you-
so they eat leaves and stones and sticks that don't satisfy,
until they fade away on a dusty floor,
while their mothers cry until they are no more.

I think about the love I have lost,
now I walk on past while I count my costs.
Too much effort in my busy life,
for guilt trips that will wring me dry.

Its cosy here with my petty doings,
meaningless pursuits and incoherent spewing.

Fake face Frankenstein,
Your farce is hanging on the line,
your feeble feet will dance the dime,
you are mine.

I'll hang your eyeballs on my ears
and remember all the dripping tears
the nightmares of your lying fears
it's done.

I've roped my world onto my back,
I'm going back,
to the ocean of love and innocence,
where I wont see you, and you wont see me,
And I will remember to forget, and you will forget to remember,
And I will laugh again, and you will keep trapping sailors,
and some will succumb,
but like me others will be done.

Barefoot,
Along the thorny path,
Across the splintered bridge,
Over the icy lake,
Onto the muddy banks,
Into the empty hall,
Feeling the velvet carpet,
Sticking to the messy kitchen floor,
Cut up by the broken glass,
Cleaned in boiling water,
Wrapped in a warm bed.

Confessions of a worn out *****,
I swear that he's been here before-
His chunky chorbes and drunken breath,
his after shave that smells like death.
He pitches up after three,
to satisfy his lonely ******.
The leftover ******* of the night,
We share this sickness out of sight.

Confessions of a tired *****,
how I long for an open door.
But there are drugs to pay and bills to eat,
a haze to keep and my face to beat.
My sunken cheeks are racked with lines,
I cover with the shadows that blind,
In the dark I'm beautiful,
when I go down I'm powerful.

Confessions of a former saint,
and the man who's words could make her faint.
Who offered me a brand new world,
and filled my love with heroine.

Confessions of a dreamless sleep,
of days that tick like a foggy mist,
of purpose lost and hope that's fleeting,
of lies and lust and pain that's eating.

I look from the darkness,
at the world through my window.

I love what I'm seeing,
the City is breathing.

And I want to meet you
in Destiny Town.

But how will I find you
when there are so many windows?

I hate you for bothering me from my safe boring sanity.

Your sailor lips sicken me
and your satin skin poisons me.

How dare you use your pretty face to make my whole world look ugly in the light of you?

You took my sleep and my confidence and made mush of something stable and predictable.

Who told you I was interested in things like inspiration and exploration?

I hate you because I cant get rid of you.

Trying to capture a moment, but the moments ever changing.

I paint in oils
-oils outlive my mortality
-oils extend my message
oils prolong my life after death.
It's a gamble because anything could wrong when I'm not there to care for it.

7am:
So I start by sitting in front of a huge blank canvas.

7:05am:
So I start by sitting with a mirror in my hand.

7:30am
The canvas is intimidating.

9am
My mind tries to capture the final product
- composition,
style,
toned down?
bright colours?
thick smears of paint?
hyper realistic?
or make it an abstraction from reality?

11am
I half-fill a jar with turpentine to clean my brushes.
I fill a small jar there with linseed oil to thin the paint.

11:05am
On my palette
-a small squish of cobalt blue
-proceed on thinning it.

11.10am
Lift brush,
dab it into the paint...
almost reach the canvas.

11:15am
I study my face to see where I'll start.

3:15pm

4 hours pass.
The sun has moved.
The shadows are softer
and the shadows longer.

Accurate painting is not about talent as much as observational skills-
thats why you can stop for years but if you have learnt the art of seeing you will be able to paint a more realistic picture than when you quit the previous time.

7pm
All my contemplation sees the sunset
without a stroke being applied.

I flick a switch and a new light appears-
harsher with darker shadows-
it doesnt allow the paints show their true colours
but at least it is consistent.
I don't like what I see in this light.

Days have passed me in front of this mountain-
when I started it was sheer will that got me here-
not because I want to
but because I know I can paint better than most a
nd some will think it's worth something-
might  make a bit of extra cash on the side.

When I was younger I pumped out canvasses faster than toilet paper
but now I dont know Wonder Boy anymore-
too much distance between now and then.

Out of sheer impatience I decide to put a wash over it. I mix a bright orange mixture. and start brushing the canvas-
the brush is too slow so I start pouring it out of it's linseed mixture bowl straight onto the canvass and rub it with a cloth until no more white can be seen.

I hate the result-
my compulsion led me to trade a white blank canvas
for an orange one-
I'm nowhere closer to coming up with an idea than when I started and now I have to wait two days for the paint to dry. By that time I would have aged two days and my resolve might not be what it is right now- the little I have left.

So the final result of my painting-
a blank orange canvas hiding behind my bedroom closet.

Down by the ocean,
under the sea,
no one can find me.
I can be free:
Free from the troubles
that get me down,
floating weightless,
no-one around.

So many treasures
longing to be.
Little sea creatures
talking to me,
telling me secrets
I've never known,
how stars in the water
cause them to glow.

Sotto il mare,
provondo il mare,
the shipwreck is calling,
I'm leaving it there.

Coraggio nella vita.
Courage for life.

Unbeautifully she undresses,
unraveling my understanding.
Unceremoniously she grabs me,
undoing me to madness.

Unbuttoning my pants
and tearing at my sleeves,
inelegant her moans and
undainty are her screams.

Unbelievable the ***
underlying all the sweat,
undenying is the passion
on the bed sheets that we wet.

Unconventional,
uncontrollable,
unforgettable the night.
unacceptable,
uncontainable,
the thought of mornings light.

I don't want to go to a heaven with a mansion in the sky,
Where streets are made of gold and no one ever dies.
Where the sea has got no fury and and the sky's devoid of rage.
Where there's happiness forever - but nobody gets laid.

I don't want to see a lion have to stuff himself with grass,
but I'd love to see a surfer try to ride on a sea of glass.
Where there's never any challenges and everyone is made,
where there's never any darkness to blow out candles for when I fade.

I know this world is bitter and very often cruel:
billions going hungry with nothing they can do.
People lying stealing cheating form their brothers and their friends.
Conspiracy and ****** across nations never ends.

But my heaven is a treasure hunt to touch a kindred soul,
where heroes fight the system and rise above this hole.
In it nobody is perfect and only some are sort of whole,
there's a million possibilities, and were not always in control.

I love the fight and the bite and finally coming right,
that fragile moments come and go and we don't always know.
Our humanity intrigues me and I love being alive,
Mortality just feeds me and on it's pains I thrive.

I grant you your religion and I honestly don't know,
what will come in the next season when my coffin's buried low.
I see this world through mortal eyes and an obscured and infant mind,
its a dim reflection baby across a universe old and wide.

I still say prayers to Jesus to calm my burning mind,
and when I feel the gentle breezes I believe that God is kind.
But I can't abide the politics and conspiracies of men,
trying to control me by their opinions of how and when.

My freedom's not just an escape hatch from a prison cell,
a list of rules to follow to avoid a burning hell.
Don't manipulate me with threats and 'facts' that I will drop into despair
I've tried the pretty ideals, but I'm no longer there.

If God is love as you do preach then I have nothing to fear,
there's no where I can run where He isn't always near.
I don't need a church or temple to pretend that I am saved,
or formulas and figures or a smiling friendly sage.

I've heard all the tired arguments I used to preach myself,
and spent years fighting for a cause while my life was on the shelf.
But now I'm slowly building back my heaven to make up for wasted time,
and if anybody asks me- I'm actually doing fine.

Hidden

beating body
shaking nausea
wide eyed fear

a trickle down her leg
a trickle down her head

Large red pillows on a warm blanket in front of the fire.
Candles all around
-Michael Buble to set mood.

And you,
my 1950s movie star smiling coyly,
expectation hidden behind you brown satin kimino.

The voice once so full of promise has found a new favourite word:
generic.

Generic i love you,
generic i care.

Thoughtless and unimaginative.
Lacking soul,
lacking vision.
As exciting as watching paint dry.

I squeeze for a spark where once was a blaze,
and at close inspection i find:
generic, generic, generic.

Warm molten ice cream drips from her mouth as she drools on here generic branded t-shirt.

Id rather have her curse me than belittle me with thoughtless hollow words picked up in her cliche dictionary.

Hold a moment,
Suspend it,
Suspend yourself in it.
The exact moment when the dream is realised, the fight won,
Savour it,
Taste it,
Linger there a moment.
Because once it has peaked corruption sets in...
No...
Corruption set in before it began.

St Paddy is a devil
with a cruel taste for beer,
last night he beat me on my head
until my vision disappeared.

My eyes are feeling blurry
and my head is a balloon,
I dont know if I'll make it
until this afternoon.

My mouth tastes like a harbour *****
and my breath smells like a sewer
my brain cells are on strike
and my throat is like a skewer.

My certainty is death,
my passion is life,
my pain: the brevity of life,
my desire: intensity of life.