Drunk on sunshine.
Snowy peaks and clouds entertwine,
As we, racing through the meadows green...
If only it wasn't a dream.

Daylight reveals to weary eyes
The cold truth behind the lies.
Leaden skies grace the morn:
They are as tough as being torn
From the bedsheets I embraced.

She ascends the plane. The plane might ascend.
She immediately comprehends
How on earth will she stifle her cries
''You won't be on earth'' her head replies.
The metal box purrs and roars to life
She doesn't have time to say her goodbyes.

...Tempestuous earthquakes in the sky
Preposterous thoughts infect the mind
Of falling, falling through the clouds...
Fear take hold and pulls her down...
Faster, faster into the ground...

Awakes. Inhales. A bawling baby fails
To lift her dropping spirits. Exhales.
Relief. No mask required to breath.
The hell that dwelt inside her mind
Was deeper than what's beneath.

Complimentary napkins to the head
On board cardboard digested
Fear is weaker but it clings
Like a constrictor on the wing
'Snakes on a plane' she thinks
A smile that's almost willing
Surfaces, but the plane shakes it away.
Smiles are reserved for better days
For now she's bolted to the chair
She returns to the nightmares...

Pinch yourself and don't feel pain
Earth bound shackles held you down
But strawberry fields let go.

See your childhood love again
Feelings lost can here be found
Play together in the snow.

Drift in limbo through the rain
Watch your past and futures drown
All your thoughts you used to know.

Dive down the darkest abyss
Killing the lurking fiends you find
Here they'll sing about your fights.

Glide through times murkiest mists
Leave all your worries behind
Lose the need of wrong or right.

Climb to the top of your bliss
Behold your wonderful mind
Cry your oceans at the sights.

Jump of the tallest tower
Realise you're falling faster
Your fears come back to haunt you.

Resist but void's your power
She's there but you fall past her
Mephistopheles pulls you.

Your streets open like flowers
He peels the stone like plaster
Fall into his jaws and through...

...Out the other side it's clear
Embrace the one you hold dear
Think of your potential here.

Twitch of the eye, recorded.
Beads trickle down rippled foreheads.
The Voice is loud, but lips are sealed.
The pawns thoughts remain concealed
As the mad King addresses the board.

The cameras don't feel the chill
Nor the barrels, aiming still
Yet as the hairs on the necks, they stand
Fellow comrades of the land
Blandly hiding their rebellious wills.

His voice is ice, his head is earth.
His heart is fire but his gaze averts
The marble army changing sides
And as the jester laughs and cries,
Whites turn black and aim as one
And fire as if through just one gun.

No sudden moves
But the King is down.
No one comes to claim the crown.

I couldn't deny that I might not be confused.
I hope that that sentence doesn't make you bemused.
Then why do I write it?
Because I do as I choose,
I choose to *****, lose then cruise,
I thought you knew the news
That I have nothing to lose?
Then who are you to accuse
That I rhyme too often?
There, that should soften
The blows don't bruise.
If only I knew
How to Stop.

It's so bright
You can't see behind you
You can't fight
for your life, they'll find you
They'll find you
I am a needle
Pop goes my head
like a balloon in a haystack but I'll wet it I'm feeble
They'll see you they'll see you they'll see you...
Hide for your life
Run forest
run to the forest to the middle don't fiddle
don't MOVE don't make a sound
even if they're not there they'll HEAR YOU
so don't flinch when the vines choke
you stick like gum but don't swallow
they'll eat you you're hollow you
run like the wind... you're gone...
In your lair, your pit of despair they can't reach you, you're safe and they can't crack you,
It's so dark.
They can't see behind you
The tables are turned, their cards fall to the floor
Burn them and rejoice.

Monochrome buildings pave the way,
It's another monotonous day at the office.
And so starts my favourite routine
The required daily dose of caffeine
Sickly sweet sugar supplements
Occasional visits to the gents
Where in the tranquility
I can ponder what I'd like to be...

...Living so high the clouds are the sea,
No responsibilities!
I don't have to dress,
The butler can take care of the mess.
Jacuzzis, cruises, friends who I choose,
Admiring reflections in gold plated loos',
But perhaps I digress...

...Back to reality I guess.
If time flies when you're having fun,
Then pressing keyboards all day long
Makes every second crawl a marathon!
But I can multitask a bit.
I can breath and walk and talk and sit
While simultaneously pressing a button
And at the same time doing next to nothing!
But even then I can scavenge my mind,
And if I'm lucky I will find
That little paradise of mine...

...And faster than the eye can see,
I am covered in girls in bikinis
Whilst crashing Lamborghinis
Into modern art reflections,
Of my many types of perfection.
And I'll roll out, unharmed and afar
There's a feast for my eyes like caviar...

And if you find that hard to believe,
My imagination comes for free!
So I understand your private confession
That I must have the perfect profession.

Hammocks hamper an oceans intent
To disturb a slumbering crew.
Moonlight shatters over the East
To guide them through the blue.

The cabin walls of woven timber
Moaning in the swell.
The Captain sleeps on rustic papers
Creased like cockle shells.

Our hero, Crow, sits on his nest.
Discussing with the stars
How a world with all this peace
Could not result in war.

Constellations slowly recede.
Tides rise with the sun.
And withered clouds of discontent
Sprinkle the horizon.

And so the skies revealed to Crow
That darkness follows light.
The deepest trenches end in shores
So death must end in life.

At this, our hero killed the crew.
The silence was his blade.
He sank the ship before the storm
Took the friends he'd made.

The waves dragged the ship and men
To their heaven in the depths.
They rest in peace forever more
As in life, in death.

You!
Hey.
Good-day.
I presume.
Pessimistic flu.
Hypocritical to annoy.
The poor man's Rolls Royce
-is the pessimists one good choice.

They live with fragility,
-unwilling rigidity,
-and rarely tranquility.

Some weep at morbid memories,
-others at faithless fantasies,
-do they (or you?) see the precipices
-between the then, now and will be?

So what if you take a blue bruising back-slap
-for your lacking, a juicy reminding
-for regretful whining, lifetime timing,
-miraculous hopes of a future shining
-because you're wasting your time
-and not even minding!

So listen, or in duller cases, read;
-thoughts are naught but mares and dreams,
-man made mind transparencies
-will's the sum of immediacies
-like waiting in your station
-but you're deciding the destination
-your journey fundamentally what you make it
-it's simple but pessimists are complicated
-would you not trade freedom for a life you hated?

Pessimistic man, forget it
Ranting is silly - you just don't get it
You didn't see the golden beauty I bet it
Gold is copper to you anyway
What would Fibonacci say!