No entry,
they're putting sentries down in Whitehall
and snipers on the roof,
the truth is, they don't want to see
how they've ****** up
society.
They'll be shooting us like mad curs
there's no reasoning with them and
they'll be laughing with the bankers.
This is the ministry of gentlemen!

Culture,
sits on my head like a vulture
pecking my brain,
I'm being driven insane,
horse and cart style and each peck is
a milestone.
The bones of my skull become null,
numb and void,destroying reality the
vulture of vanity
and I become the insanity
I see all around me.
If being crazy is madness
and madness is crazy,
then put me out of this misery,
won't someone erase me?

Knowing couldn’t resist the autumn light
playing on walls the shorter days
painted my house with only white
to forget coming winter’s gloomy gray!

Now the cotton clouds cannot stay aloof
when burnt at heart by the summer’s pain
break the flight to pause on the white roof
pour a tear two as the falling rain!

Now the sky a little more dazzles blue
lavishly spreads her wares colors glut
moon spins the night in her magic brew
when rises pompous behind areca-nut!

So you know given them good reasons
the winds to weave dreams for weary night
play on walls between rests all seasons
loving that I painted house only white!

I did it again,
letting myself fall in,
before learning how to swim,
learning by now should have come fast,
but looking at my track record of the past,
I failed,
Meeting you again after the years swam by,
it was a beautiful lie,
that I was hoping rang true,
after only talk for a few days of talking to you,
I watched the walls fall into my hearts blue,
why was it so easy?
to let them fall,
but your smile made my heart stall,
like a tripped up teenager again,
I wanted this to be real, this beautiful sin,
I could have been less cheesy for truth,
but it came naturally like kissing in a phone booth,
and it spilled out in ways I hate,
saying your beautiful too early instead of late,
this sick feeling for someone I hardly know,
guess its time to go,
and start placing the bricks,
so my hopeless romantic side doesn't show.

I said I'm sorry in a tone,
I always feel alone,
but you know the right words,
a humming to rival birds,
as you clean the dishes,
I proclaimed I'll make you proud,
in a voice so loud,
even rocks thought it was true,
no resentment no grudge,
even though you'll never budge,
on seeing me better than what I am,
so as I know I can call once the day is done,
every hero was a son,
I couldn't ask more and I hope my own sees me like I see you,
no other words can be my hero my father,
but I love you.

There is a stump with a lawn chair on top in a yard with dirt,

no one knows how it got there, like a cheesy line insert,

some say the Gods struck it down upon yonder tree stump,

other folks say the lawn chair was dipped in the same stuff as Achilles,

that was some reason left at the dump,

but lock in a bond they are,

through wind and winter,

they locked tight as if holding hands in a ***** bar,

you may ask me what I think in some way or another,

but I think they are lovers frozen in bodies that never feel the sacrifice of weather,

holding onto what they can that stay still,

you may ask once again,

and I both despise and love their will.

A person alone,
standing somewhere unknown,
a parking garage's top floor,
looking on people at the movies and casinos in score,
every one looking forward while one stares down,
at all that inhabit this big city small town,
the families and singles alike,
trying to escape their stationary bike,
hearing barely intelligible dreams and bemoans,
no one notices the person above alone,
the mountains mingling with skyscrapers and skylines,
all looking no one searching for something to take off their minds,
there's a cool chill,
and the person soon drunk enough of the scene to have their fill,
but doesn't back even when it starts to snow,
for they have no where to go,
cept stare at the scene of beauty down below,
the pull their phone out and write this poem,
still no one looks up and sees the person alone.