You should not give advice.
You ignore the advice we give, yet you lecture those who do not follow what we say to you.
Hypocrisy in its finest hour.

You moan in your monastery of life.
Yet freely dish out words of wisdom like your a God.

It's people like you, it's people like you.
Afraid to change; yet first to judge.
I sigh.
All I can do is watch and bite my tongue
Until it bleeds.
Because your words are like bile in the throat.

It's people like you. All the answers are in front of you but too lazy to do anything.
You are the insult to those who work.
You are the insult to those who try.

I can see words dribble out your mouth, like a leaky pipe.
Too bad I can't hear you...

This is for you.

My body is scarred.
It has been for years now.
They are still as fresh as the day they formed.
Each one showing.
How to survive a little longer in the world.

They’re worn daily, just to show you’re alive
Every time you look down.
The scars, those battle scars
Flare up, like diamonds in the light
Showing all dimensions of perfection.
Fresh on the skin.

The human being without scars is a heart without a beat.
It’s our statement piece.
Defining us into being the warrior we must become.
Yet, we wallow in self pity, craving attention.
To heal the wounds.

Our scars stand by us when all else fails.
Showing the darkness behind each soul.
Giving light to a person we thought we knew.
They're all over my face.
Screaming the words; nightmare.
Pleading for pride.

Each sting, like the wasp's fear.
They hurt to remind you they haven't gone.
Never will they settle down beside your soul.
In peace.
Battle scars, those battle scars.
Bleed out, shirek out, wail out for acceptance.
Which is denied by our lives.

Make a soldier out of me, wear my battle scars with courage.
Let them taunt my name in disgust.
They can shine whenever they want too.
But it won't stop me.
Let them be my soul companion for life.
This life is now mine.

I have stabbed the moon.
My world, plunged into darkness.
I am not blind; but here; I am made to be so.

The clouds of misery distort my hopes.
Surrounded by what I cannot reach.
I am not broken; but here; I am made to be so.

The hollow emptiness from each breath.
The voices of millions sound viciously cold.
I am not defeated; but here; I am made to be so.

The wooden shell rots and decays like flesh.
I am nothingness that lingers like cancer.
I am not dead; but here; I am made to be so.

I am the child stuck in the mud.
Motionless and watching as time passes.
I am the star-shape surrounded by colourful blurs.
Waiting for the one to set me free.
Close my eyes and await for small hands, to embrace me.

I am the child playing hide and seek.
But I am the one who must seek.
30, 31, 32, 33
The numbers signify my time alone; the bitter reminder.
Search deep using the spy-glass of eyes to search.
Do not resist in finding them, the control set by the bourgeoisie,
Realise the only one who can find them, is me.

Duck, Duck, Duck but I am the Goose.
And now I run, desperate for the approval of others.
Big eyed and determined for all the wrong reasons.
Walk.
Why not be different, stand tall and be gutsy.
Dig deep and be bold, the only one who can is me.

The intense battle of rock, paper, scissors.
Predicting the enemies moves, reading their faces for the slight notion.
Rock? Scissors? But does winning even matter.
Enjoy the game. You may never know when you will play again.
Dive deep into the glorious deep blue sea.
The only one who can take a chance, is me.

Take over your life, your the one with the master key.
The only one who can change is me.

Oh disappointment dad, how you haven't changed.
You are still guttless and horribly deranged.
Faces have aged and we are all wise.
Disappointment dad, you cram yourself with empty lies.

Oh disappointment dad, you claim to work so hard.
Forgetting the world, you say you have becomed scarred.
But the ones who are scarred are the ones cleaning your mess.
Selfish and blind, your words of woe fill us with protest.

Oh disappointment dad, can't you listen to the world.
Your life is ever so more becoming twirled
I can leave through the door at any moment, and wouldn't care.
Oh disappointment, why don't you show me you still have a pair.

Excuses will only get you so far disappointment dad,
And truthfully less I see you, it makes me glad
Maybe one day you won't forget about me,
Maybe one day you'll chnage and be free.

However realism is my gifted teacher
And it has taught me about people like you; the preacher.
I can accept you'll always be singleminded
But Disappointment Dad; I refuse become blinded.

I'll keep dreaming,
while you keep believing.
But that's okay.
As long as I'm with you,
I'll keep dreaming.

You preach to me father,
But your words are just whispers in the wind.

Salvation, repent, believe,
These are the words which hold no meaning.

You still preach in vain attempt,
I am the human soul, drowning in sickly sin.

Father, I don't think you understand,
I am content, for every soul is like mine, temptation and life to sweet to ignore.

Dear Father, forgive me for I have sinned,
I am human, and mistakes are all I make, none I regret.

Welcome Governments one and all.
Watch the little people stumble and fall.
Step right up and see the wonders big and bold.
Watch the endless mysteries flip and unfold.

The thieving men who steal your lives,
Trade you away like simple knives.
What Governments do, what Governments do.
The deep reality has never been so true.

Endless pits of tainted money,
Has never been so ridiculously funny.
The powers in the towers so tall,
Have never been seen by the people, to be so incredibly small.

With peoples hearts starting to cry,
They watch their life goals fly.
Trapped by Governments plans of money grabbing schemes,
Watch them living in their never-ending dreams.

Inflation down to its biggest low.
Watch the governments say the word of “No!”
Comfy chairs and second homes,
Listen to them speak into their up-to-date phones.

The working-class fail to survive,
The governments start to thrive.
Fancy cars and tight business suits,
Walking into gardens and stealing the precious fruits.

Conservative, Liberals and Labour all want to make the rules,
To make us seem like half-wit fools.
The shining silvers and glory golds they wish to find.
Makes them turn sickly blind.

The show will never be over,
And the constant greed builds like a giant super-nova.
Welcomed one and all, to show that never ceases to end.
Allow this message to clearly send.

I’ve fallen head over heels.
Crazed into an unknown and different love.
And this time I know.
I know it’s different.
So different; because my heart beats differently now.
Not out of sync. Not out of place. Not beating in pain.
It beats like it was meant too; in rhythm to something that matters.
Into something that might change you.
Into becoming perfect in someone’s eyes.

The beauty of something so real, makes everything seem like diamonds.
All unique; always and endlessly lasting forever.
Communicating sweet gestures and making love seem like a person.
You patiently wait and watch it grow.
Into a gorgeous emotion.
That will never leave your sight.
Because now.
It’s a part of you; a part of your life.

I’ve landed in the arms of someone who makes my bones weak.
But manages to keep me together with simple sentences.
You are stunningly beautiful.
You are everything I could ever want in a person.
You give me butterflies when I see you.
It makes you fall to pieces. Crumbling like your favourite dessert, but still tasting ever-so sweet.
You melt.
But you are still intact; more intact you ever thought you could be.
And you smile, making you feel whole again.
Completing the jig-saw puzzle of your life.

We all dream.
Of a love which will carry us away.
That will make us feel like a fantasy in our own special movie.
And we’ll live happily ever after, regardless of where we are.
Never doubting anything that may come your way.
A love so powerful, that the settings don’t matter.
Only the two of you count.
Time seems so unimportant when you’re together, because you know what makes you grin.
Living your dream, with that one person.
Who makes the day all worth it.

So I’ve fallen head over heels.
Into something I never prepared for.
Into something most people can only dream of.
And in that moment, when you feel the love in your soul.
You are at peace.
Cuddling up to the one who made it all happen.
Thinking... “Thank you, for making my dreams become real”
And they’ll smile, and say “I would never take it back. Your love gets me through the day.”
The psychic bond, of the minds.
And you’ll melt together, like ice-cream on a chocolate cake.
So sweet, so right together, and the moment will last forever.
Like lovers.

Spider-man and X-Men.
The complex characters that we see.
Saving their worlds from minor disasters.
Oh the joys of being free.

Trapped by the needs of others so needy.
And the praise they get in return?
A pat on the back or a slap in the face.
The death of the hero, simply begins to burn.

Batman and Ironman.
The billionaires beyond belief.
High class minds disguised in smart business suits.
Living their egos, their dreams, while hiding their grief.

People know there names by heart.
Knowing if in danger, they will come and save their life.
But simple as it sounds, we can never know the heroes path
One only goal they seem to want; ends in ****** strife.

The Flash and Green Lantern.
All our heroes come in different light.
Costume to powers and histories to pasts.
They soon end up consumed by endless fight.

Media creates the false hopes for people everywhere.
Chaos never-ending; the pain never seeming to cease.
Yet we're all struck with the tiniest of hope.
Uniting as one, we form our own release.

Captain America and Superman too.
Every hero has one thing they can share forever.
Its not so complex that people will never know, nor is a mystery of life.
Its simply, no matter who you are, you are a hero, holding people together.

She’s all grown up now.
Maybe one day she’ll spread her wings and fly.
Or maybe, her feet will stay firmly on the ground.
Destiny has a secret plans for her.

Ones we'll never know.

Love is the foundation of the universe.
Force so powerful we simple immerse.
Ourselves into its awe and beauty
Love is our calling, our highest duty.

In this life, Love stands on its own feet.
And destined to show us the place we meet.
We fall so fast we don't expect to be caught
That we question everything, every thought.

But love surprises us in a golden fashion.
Such vibrant colours, such vivid passion.
With each love offers something different.
Each one with its special moment.

There is one type of love which changes you.
It takes all the bad away and comes to your rescue.
They are out there waiting to be found.
That this love is perfect, all round.

Love
Opens
Vibrant
Experiences

My face is the mosaic of time.
Recognisable but filled with defining lines.
I am motionless but watch as you stand on me.
Point, click, stare at my wonder.

I am everywhere but I am everywhere only where you are.
We are the same, but you cannot see from your perspective.
Colours bold but still faded over time, faded by feet, bared by tourists. Of my face.

So many lights by day, but night I can reflect.
On my own light.
I have seen how world's have changed.
But where I remain. I am untouched by history.

The mosaic is my mirror.
And it is yours too.
Mine imprinted in the ground, yours is just printed.
Are we different?

White flies and red beetles.
Blue birds and sour sweet chocolates
Mixed up sweets, all together in this place.
Take my hand and meet the king of taste.

Pictures of money thieving parrots.
Who hold silver goblets which scream inspiration.
Music notes travel in circles above our heads.
Follow the empty circus filled with half made beds.

The house of glass which oozes golden liquid.
Quickly; the runners sprint with hands clenching bottles.
Lion and the poacher share deep glares of remorse
Fighting the nightmares in which we force.

Cordless fingers which slip out of place.
Jewels that glimmer in shades of misinterpretation
Fists fight with fists in the battle of wits.
The people glare at homeless sofas in their crying fits.

The muddled up poem which seems to make no sense.
Has clearly not made you see.
That life is not as simple as they say.
Which will bring about the dawning of a new day.

Do not negotiate with the terrorists of your heart.
For they are malicious and do not understand the anguish you experience day to day. Your heart is not to be played with, nor is it fair you play with hearts that don't belong to you.

Do not negotiate with argumentive terrorists known as individuals. They thrive on your will to break and snap like a sugar stick. Remain calm and smile, it kills them inside.

Do not negotiate with pessimistic terrorists known as your mind. You are beautiful, you are not fat, you do not have a stupid laugh and 99.9% of the time, it's going to work out in the end.

Do not negotiate with passive terrorists who will not take a stand. If they choose to live their live like that, that is their choice, do not hang up on the worries of others. Do what makes you happy first and foremost.

Do not negotiate with spineless terrorists who hide in the shadows of others. One day they will realise, but you cannot tell them. So let them be.

Do not negotiate with emotional terrorists who hide many secrets. They will tell you when they are ready. Do not force information out. You are not a terrorist.

Remember that you are everything different to the terrorists.
Remember free thought is your greatest gift.

Do not negotiate with terrorists who use the misery of others for profit. Help the unfortunate, you will never know when you'll make someone's day. 20p can change the world.

Do not negotiate with the children of terrorists. Children can be cruel. Yes. But should the opinion of one child make a difference to you. No.

Do not negotiate with the terrorists of your soul. Do not let them guide you into unhappiness. Those who have, you can read the lines in their faces; they're permanent scars. Be brave, be bold.

Finally. Do not negotiate with yourself. You know what you want, who you are, what makes you tick, what makes you cry. Do not question yourself.

Sometimes I wonder when you'll stop moaning.
Sometimes I wonder if your lips can actually shut.

Then I block you out. The moaning ceases.

There is a time after busy schedules, warm hugs, cold tears and brave encounters my sweet.
This is the final gift I wish to share with you.
This is called the time of the butterflies.

When we pass from this world; when we can do no more on this plain of existence, we turn into silver butterflies
Who dance in the sky, swirling above everyone’s head, flittering and flying.
It looks like, when you see them, that they don’t have a purpose, mindless but beautiful.
But you cannot judge them, until you know what important role they play for us.

At night, these butterflies will glow and guide those who are lost
Offering a path that only a few dare tread.
For this path is usually filled with struggles and triumphs.
But for those who are lost, realise, they are never alone.
And when the butterflies cannot glow, they explode, elegantly; they become shards of light, so all may experience
Togetherness.

During the day, butterflies disguise themselves in the natural world as normal butterflies.
Their bright colours let us appreciate beauty, but remind us that like you and me, butterflies are born, they live as we do. But their magic keeps them alive for however long we need them.
There sole role is to keep us believing, believing that there is something better, always something better.
They restore the faith that society and the world have crushed out of us.

You do not have to call a butterfly when you need them my sweet, they will be there whenever you need them.
They will know when you need someone to hug or someone to talk too.
Or even if you want someone to play games with.

I will be there.

My sweet, I am your silver butterfly.
I will always be there when you need me.
You are never alone, because I will always glow.
Glow for you.

So during the day, on your way to school watch for the butterflies,
And before you go to bed, watch out the window.
I will be sat on your windowsill until you fall asleep.

Rest my sweet, I will see you tomorrow.

Love your silver butterfly (Daddy)
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I am naked.
My body covered in colours. Vibrant in disguise.

If cut me back, you'll see I bleed shapes.
Triangles above your head.
The squares of my world.
The prisim trapped inside a prison.

I am the font print you never use.
But I am document you always open.

Where do you stand?

I can't hide the roadblocks anymore.
The open road needs to be free.
I can smell the sweat of you stuck between my skin.
Moulding with mine.

You have seen me.
And now I am stained in you.

I'll pack you.
I'll pack you right away, hidden under the dust, hidden under the bed.
I'll forget about you.
Or I'll attempt too.

I almost forgot about you, and then went looking.
Under the bed.

There's a reason your under the bed.
It means your close but out of sight. Out of my sight.
You're the reminder of pain, you're the reminder of happier times.
A time which is blurred, filled with lies.

Your suitcase, why is it empty?

How could I forget about you dear suitcase, I choke when I find you.
Dust of the past invades my lungs, a taste of stale, a smell of fear.

I'm afraid to move you back under the bed.
You just stare at me.
Zipped up tight; you won't reveal any secrets to me.
Your the magican and I'm the audience

I already know all your secrets Mr. Magican...

Sir, Sir, are you ready?

Because I am the suitcase of Pain.
And I'm ready to board now.

I am the zombie that cries.
My eyes flood,
Blood pools grow in an infectious style.
I scrape along the floor, my knees are flaking.
I am the zombie, who is alone.

How paradoxical.
I am the zombie with no other to turn.

The dead brain stuck in my skull is telling me,
telling me to feed.
But my urge has gone, to feed is pointless.
The zombie with no purpose, no conviction.

Oh zombie with dertmination and purpose.
How do I return to you?
How to infect again, bite into another to feel
As I do.
How do I crawl among the other zombies,
For them to understand.

I must infect myself once again.

I am the zombie that cries tears for ******.
They are the tears of the ******.
Listen to them weep.

The God's cry for us when the rain pours.
The droplets for each and everyone of us.
They are tears that the God's cannot hold any longer.
They are tears that the God's need to release.

So haunting; so beautiful when the sky opens.
And drowns our hearts in loneliness and woe.
Clear water cleanses and refreshes the soul.
I could watch for hours all the pebbles of rain.
The representation of us, so small and to eye so unimportant.
But watch the rain.
Smell the rain.
The pungent smell of rain. The smell that makes us embrace each other. Watch the rain and see the tears the God's care about. You.

We run in the rain. We dance in the rain. We hide in the rain.
The God's tears spark individual emotions. Like sharp steel cutting through skin, stinging and permanent.
The rain leaves water scars on the skin.
The rain ruins faces so we can see clearer.
The rain falls so we shouldn't have too.
But that is why the God's eyes flood the ground.
For the ones who shouldn't have fell.

The rain touches everywhere.
At any time, in any place it sees fit.
There is no time on the rain, it should fall for however long it needs too.
The trees sway to the motion, the cars frantically wipe windows clear.
But the rain persists; the memory you would rather ignore.
Be thankful for persistence, it means the God's haven't stopped caring.

Watching the rain attack the window pane from the bedroom.
Being soaking wet through clothing when the rain catches us unexpectedly.
Watching the sun peak out of clouds, slowly clearing the rain.

Do not think of the rain and see misery.
See the rain to embrace the world, remember the fallen and to thankful that the rain still falls.
The God's cry for us, so we can be strong.

I stand proud on top of this limousine.
Its moving; faster than my life.
Poetry explodes out of my lips
“One day I will lay you to rest”

I feel this breeze cures my skin.
It tingles, it stings of bitter memories.
My words feel violent written over my body
In blood, in glory.
“Lay you to rest in my head”

Its twisted around my skull
Constricting the very nature of my soul
But those words, those haunting words
Shine brightly around me.
“Lay. Rest. You. Will.”

It stops.
And I fly. The blur of the world makes it seem broken
Divided by the splinters in my hand
I land; crashing to the ground like a comet; the fire ball in the sky.
“I lay you...”

The eyes of another stare back into mine.
I do not know who you are.
But you have engaged me. I am free from my bounds; my chains.
The cold surrounds me, enclosing me around in my own fortress.
“May I lay you to rest...”

It stings deep like a jagged blade sinking into the bones of the soul.

The shock softens the blow, but the truth remains solid as before. They invaded themselves into your world; unknown.
Emotions, opinions, thoughts, brutally read through the eyes of another who does not understand. Tramples through and simply butchers you; inside.

Trust destroyed in a moment of seconds.

Broken and damaged over the years
The Daffodil has yet not come to face its fears
All true beauty lies in the colour red
Can rest comfortably all in your head.

The Daffodil seeks a great light
To save it from its final fight.
The true image which it hides behind
Is not one that we will ever find.

A long lost treasure that we have found.
Which lies hundreds of miles under the ground.
The seconds which we can conceal.
We find the only the Daffodil.

Forget-me-knots and roses too
All the flowers that show us true.
Are nothing like the flower we will see.
The daffodil in which I believe.

Glimmering lily pads on the water bed,
close those eyes and rest your head.
Dream away of an endless dream,
this is the forest you will see.

Watch as the birds fly high and low,
vibrant colours of the forest are on show.
Slither and slime across the muddy floor,
but this is the forest with so much more.

The hum of creatures united together;
listen to the fox cubs howl for what seems like forever.
Long tall grass brushes yourself,
all the creatures suddenly hide in stealth.

As the forest fades to black,
you see your small pile of blue-tack.
Grumble and groan, the radios song,
but just remember, the forest will never be gone.

I am the shell.
Pushed and smashed against the bowl.
Where all ingredients are mixed together.

Consequences ignored; I am the fractured egg.

Pour my heart into oblivion
And carress everything I hold dear.

I patiently wait for the miracle makers
To come find me.

For years I have sat in this house,
Trapped in the cabinet of forgotten reminders.
I have gathered dust.
The iron in me has turned brown.
But I have not forgotten you.

The other knickknacks don’t understand.
I was always there for you.
You were always on time because of me.
To school, to work, to even your friends.
I never let you down.
The master of time, beside you always.

I still watch you as the years have passed.
Dancing around, falling in love, and getting undressed.
The way you towel dried your hair before bed.
The tears that have fallen from your face.
I was your constant in this life that time was on your side.

And then, the source of my feelings was lost.
You killed the battery in me.
You forgot about me.

After all I have done for you.

I hope time drags you; into endless impatient waiting.
I hope time forgets you! And see how it feels to be powerless.
You’ll lose your sense of time without me.
How will you know when you need to be somewhere?
You won’t; and I will laugh from the comfort of my forgotten brothers.

I hear the door bang and you are gone.
Your phone buzzing on the bed.
The tv stuck in standby.
You’ve left all your time behind...

The old soul surprises us all.
In that faint glimpse of something, something we can't quite figure out.
The old soul.
Persistent yet beautiful
Surprises us all.

The old soul is battered and torn in ways, we can't quite understand.
Time it seems is against us
The hour-glass, the sands, the small specs have slipped through our fingertips
It is cancerous, the biological clock, tick tock, tick tock.
The old soul; she is weak

Yet we judge the old soul.
Appearances are decieving, personalities are changed when pushed.
Pushed beyond the limits of our minds.
The cracks hidden in our faces show are real intentions.
Yet the old soul, knows nothing of evil.

I am envious of the old soul.
For she has lived life as pure as one can be.
Living life as one would see fit, not forced, not tamed.
Brusied and tested for the years.
Old Soul has lived life her way.
Free and uncontrolled.

The Old Soul
You are true
and I cannot shake how envious I am of you.
You are beautiful and one can desire to be like you.

I love him.
But secretly I adore you.

We are different.
But you and me are parallels.

He is complex
But you just understand.

He is all style
But you are substance.

He is all facts
But you are creative.

I don't know what do to.
But I know I'm lying.

Perfect barely scratches the surface when it comes to you.
Anticipation; the different moments, experiences and memories will always be true.
The feeling grows in my heart, the complex force I can't explain.
Rushing thoughts of dreams, emotions and belief, still survive through the rain.
I let loose all the words that allow me to share my heart open.
Clearly spoken moments, you've taught me to care, the simple token.
Kites and birds fly in the air and we are granted dream of being spoken .

History will be built with your hand in mine and we'll show them what we is real.
Energy; the spark glows within me, you allow all my worries to heal.
Nothing could tear me apart from this new love I never knew could exist .
Rough times to the to happiest days, none I shall ever resist.
You and me, me and you, our heart beats in time and we will never fall.

But this may be the end of this poem, but far from the never-ending message.
Oh, this simplest but deepest message will show us our passage.
Soft sweet words, that have such a control over me, but they give me relief.
That simply, I love you, my friend, my lover, my belief.

Golden glimpses of what could have been.
The waves on the beach that I have seen.
Silver memories of a forgotten time.
Ancient history of you which is now a crime.

The blue raindrops which freeze in the light.
Music beats which drum with might.
The fists that aid us in our fights.
Humans who appear as to be knights.

The terror's that plague our minds.
The freedom from which is hides.
The changes in who you are.
The distances you have traveled are far.

Speak the words which are on your lips.
Search for the words which are on your fingertips.
Shout the words that I need to hear.
Sadly I know, the truth is what I fear.

Those were the memories drowned in one mistake.
To walk down the lonely lake.
The fire birds call your name loud and clear.
You used to be the one I held dear.

The golden glimpses are now free.
The waves on the break I cannot see.
I know this pain you caused will go in time.
But for all you know I appear to be 'fine'

It sticks.
Like sticky caramel stuck to chubby fingers.
But there is no innocence in this.
For the caramel can be washed away. This sticks for life.

The flow of blood, manages to struggle up and through.
Attempting to make each crucial part survive.
This virus.  The reluctant virus.
Crawls and creeps alongside it. The shadow that haunts the house.
And it taints everything.
Making every action, consumed by the darkness.

It’s in the moment you realise, that it falls to pieces in your hands.
Like the sand that seeps through your fingers.
Trying desperately grasping to save as much as you can.
Opening your hand to find, tiny specs of sand.
Not the light gold you wish filled your hand.
Not how you planned it in your mind.
The world is against you on this day.

Days in the park, painting by numbers, even dinner nights out.
All attempt to cover what lies beneath the skin.
It works, for hours or so.
Until in the night, lying awake. It hits you.
The undiscovered hole in your heart; grows bigger.
Grows deeper.
Making the darkness thrive.

Lingering like a lost ghost, it’s yours to own.
It will get to know you; know you better than yourself.
Like part of the soul, it twists and turns like vines
Constricting, releasing, tensing, the whole of you.
Controlling you.
Becoming a part of you.
Taking over you.

The control will weaken, and the virus will fade.
In this moment, the battle will commence.
Tame the demon, holding the strings to your sanity.
Fight. Until the will has gone. Until you know.
Enough is enough.
But fight through the weeds, hack and hack away.
See the light, embrace the light.

It sticks.
But not to me.