in between my insecurities

I can’t be found sometimes,
dumbfounded by my surroundings.
hiding,
in between my
insecurities.

i’ve been captured in the moment,
scared to say another word,
caught ,
in between my
insecurities

I got lost within the essence,
talking nonsensical thoughts,
lying inside,
in between my
insecurities.

I learnt my lesson swiftly,
teenage years, lunchbox idioms ,
sandwiched,
in between my
insecurities.

The heart works for the hard work,
beating constantly as targets are acquired.
Shots fired, money wired and payments aplenty.
Contacts signed, terms and conditions defined,
it could take time, but the ***** rolling.
Touch base as we reach for the stars,
customers in charge, their business is ours.
We roll monthly, comfortably in our own domains,
renew them annually again as the pattern remains the same.
Some days, it's a struggle to get out of the pit,
feeling burnout, lack energy for my daily workout.
The wage ain't great but the dividends could add up to millions.
Some are cynical but I won't listen to those opinions.
I treat my staff as people not minions.
No need for incidents were a team of individuals.
Passionate and driven creatures,
hidden features and secret keepers.
Let's get money and lets get paid,
Theres a million ways we can earn more than the minimum wage.
Let's raise the bar, the city is ours and the worlds not too far away...

Dream tomorrow and live today.

The lizard king came alive in the walls of prophets,
A shrine to help follow the subjects of the topic.
I lost my mind, but found it inside the tombs of those left behind.

I left a part of my soul on La Ciegna Boulevard.
The looking glass had the last laugh,
Some smiled.
The sun dials told the time accurately.

The shadows followed me from one side of the city to the other.
All the way to the coast of the continent.
It was here I found the confidence that was lost in the dominance of you.

We broke on through to the other side,
but it was too soon,
and the other side was the same like butterflies.

Cocooned in symmetrical thoughts of the stars in your eyes.
It’s no surprise we both knew it all at that moment.
Our toes exposed naked in the sand and lost in emotion.

******* coma

Cool
Calm
Collective,

Constantly
Caught
Consistence,

Common
Cold
Conflicted,

Colossal
Conduct
Clinic,

Climate
Cold
Conscription,

Condemned
Coma
Victim.

If i'm not a product of my environment,
what defines who I am?
Exactly.
Precisely.
I do not know.

What am I,
without environment?
A matter of circumstance?

Without a ball,
how can I play ball?

Just kicking stones across the landscapes.

Without a concept of the Ocean,
how can I understand the notion?

I only believe in what I see.

I speak English, as my mother tongue -
because I was taught from being born.

If I was born in India, I'd speak Indian,
maybe English too.

Surely this makes me a product of the environment.

How can I know of TV,
but a tribe member knows only of a spear.

What were exposed to is defined by our environment.

Tell me i'm wrong.
Tell me about predestination.
Tell me about the soul if you wish.

I think you missed the point.

If I was born in a cell, I would know only the cell.
I known what I'm shown and that much I can tell,
that i'm surely nothing more than a product of the environment.

Or maybe,
just maybe,
**the environment is a product of me too?

turn on a sixpence

i slipped on your silhouette,
as i crept in your shadow.
Obscured in your umbrage,
an abundance of dark.
Opaque mistakes clouded,
our nebulous hearts.
I shaded your colours in grey tone,
to take home,
your essence in plainclothes,
and our monotone goals.
I was your eccentric apprentice,
You were a trip to the dentist,
pulling me out of comfort zone.
I had decayed in ways,
concaved incisors seen better days,
yet in spite of my enlightened phase,
the sweetness of life took me away in a chain of abuse of penny chews and the absolution of front page news.
I choose me,
I choose you.
Now if i misstep,
i’ll turn on sixpence;
and my value to you will continue to grow over time.

You
Cannot
Take
Away
The
Rights
Of
Those
Who
Have
Nothing
Left

Icicle heart

I can't tell if it's cold outside
Or
I'm froze inside.
Icicle heart,
melts to raise the sea levels,
Then we drown in tears,
defeated by fears,
we see Devils,
The water is clear,
but crimson cold.
Your
cool calm and collected,
so level headed,
After all this years,
It's the apathy you feel
that makes fools of us.
Now there's swimming pools of regrets,
when
Icicles melt.
A cologne of shame,
pungent in the air,
carried by breath,
to pollenate the common class,
this
Icicle heart,
can never last
at least without
changing state
as
the landscape moves like a bad mood,
but the worst has passed,
and we backtrack.

Scrap that,

Take me back to the start,
Dinosaurs,
reptilian nature,
evolutions mistake,
Are you down for me and
My icicle heart,
melts into the stream,
and down the river it seems
an estuary divides us,
as we reach the sea,
impeach beliefs,
and the buoyant
keeps
my
icicle heart,
afloat,

I hope you feel me.

and
however it may seem,
you were nothing less
than a  dream,
nothing more than a
drop in the ocean to me,
and
my
cold cold icicle heart.

One year on....

My Nana has unfortunately passed away after a valiant fight against cancer. In this passing we have lost a lovely woman who meant the world to our whole family. Me and my cousins affectionally called her 'straight Nana' as when we were younger we were lucky to also still have our great gran around who we called 'curly Nana' this was based on the fact that Nana Pauline has Straight hair and her mother had curly hair. In all my years I've have never heard even a choice word said against her spirit or character which is truly a rare commodity in this day and age.



She lived a full life and had three amazing daughters and a step son who she raised as her own. Thirteen grandchildren one being myself and five great grandkids. Thankfully we recently all got together and she was able to see her whole family together for the first time. I could see how happy it made her that day to see the legacy she had created and more importantly that we all were in a good place before she left us for the final time.



'May the wind always be on your back and the sun always upon your face and may the winds of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars '



My mother was very young when she had me so the support that my Nan gave her as I grew up was vital. Without her me and my mum would of struggled but we always had a safetynet of support that we could rely on that was invaluable to us both. I know this notion is appreciated by my aunties and cousins too. We all share our own individual special memories as well as collective moments too that we will never forget. I would appreciate it so much if anybody has any memories stories that they wish to share as I know they will help us all as a family as we cope with this difficult time.




Cara: ". I once mistakingly rang there (labour club) instead of nanas house looking for mum, nana answered anyway, and passed me on to mum! Good job I got the wrong number! 



Her husband John is a great man who was with my Nana for her last 20 years. He is a part of our family and I hope he knows that we will always be here for him and I look I will look forward to his Sunday Dinners in future and having a beer in the back garden in tribute to our usual routine. I know I'm not alone when I say we are always here for you and we love you
and respect you so much. If you ever need anything please do not forget that.


She had a a gift for poetry that was exposed when she made her way to Facebook. I would always giggle at the little dittys she would loving, yet embarrassingly post to our Facebook walls with affection, nailing little pockets of the personalities of the protagonists each time she wrote them. Reading back some of these small potent poems know I smile as a proud Grandson and I'm happy we will all each have our own little prose to refer to in the future. 




From Moat Road, to Winterslow Avenue, Clover  Croft and finally your home in Widnes - I'll always remember each place fondly for reasons as they represents different periods of my life as I've grown up. My blue bear and parties, your back garden at Moat Road. Snowballs and magic tricks, teddy football at Winterslow Avenue. Clovere Croft was a place of refuge in my teenage years, your naughty rabbits and old school cooked dinners and misbehaving Malig. The dog who you took in and never left your side. The Labour club, where you worked hard and played hard! The beautiful garden you have created that will grow and remind us of your colourful nature as the flowers grow and bloom each year. I know John will tender them with care and think of you with a smile as he listens to smooth FM and remembers all the great times that you both spent together there. 



'if winter comes can spring be far behind?'



As a woman she was truly beautiful, a short stunning blonde. Her three daughters each different in ways but each a  reflection of there mother in their own unique ways.  Looking at them now they are all testament to her gorgeous genes and gentle, kind nature.



Nana was the most amazing crossword completer I have ever met. I was consistently surprised by her ability to finish these crosswords as she watched daytime TV and it was one of the small funny things that made me really proud of her. She filled in the gaps that was synomomus to her life.

Each of her daughters have fought through hard times and she provided a back bone of support that helped them reach the stability and happiness in their lives today. I know she said to me personally how she had comes to terms with her fate and that she was especially happy my Aunty Julie has found happiness with a good man like her sisters. I feel this represented the final piece to the puzzle for her and as usual she was able to complete this before she left. She took great solace in this fact - and so she should. It made me feel a small element of contentness when she told me this during one of our last conversations together.



To all my cousins now is the time to step up and being there for your mums. I have no doubt you will be.  I am proud of you all and you all have a special place in my thoughts. You all have great qualities and potential and it's been a pleasure to watch you all grow up into fine young men and ladies, even mothers.  Please never hesitate to contact me if you need to talk or share your thoughts. I know we will remain strong as a unit and we will get through this tough time together as a family!


In closing I want to thank my Nana just for simply being her. I will hold you in a special place in my heart forever and you will never be forgotten. Each Christmas I will toast you with a Jack Daniels (Nan would always buy the guys a JD related present every year) I will never taste that whiskey again without a passing thought for you as it passes my lips. I know I will not be the only one with this sentiment.

Even as a close family - I still hope this brings us all together and that we use this experience to better ourselves in our own personal ways. Fight hard to reach your potential and stay true to your essence and the person you desire or have chosen to be. It's these times that expose what really matters to you - embrace those thoughts and do not lose them in grief or forget them in time.

I am so proud of you.
Goodby Nana. I love you.
Your Grandson,
Nathan x

one for the delirious,
the inquisitors equipped,

loose lips,
loose grip.
loose lips,
loose grip.


the truth is the troops
are lost in the loops,
of houdini moves,
from those fools,
those fools,
those fools.

oh what can we do,
to break through to the justice.
alas, alas,
the rustic handshake.
not much comrade,
not much.

combat,
contrast,
combat,
contrast,

those stage show motions,
we slept on the stage,
we slept on our opponents.

i’m broken,
i’m broke.
**broke.

.

little girl blue,

They reminisce over you,
In the cosmic blues,
A star before the fire sparked,
consistent front page news.

A heart of golden rock and roll,
Nothing stopping you.
The pain inside took its toil,
the grain in your voice and tortured soul,
stole us all from you.

It was time that took your life,
In the the time of your life
You wanted to be loved so much,
but not enough to change your mind.

Now you are a shooting star,
that burnt out years before,
Captured in the music left,
that all of us adore.

i see you
formulate in the sky,
until a permanent cloud remains,
for all to see.

You settle in a montaged dream sequence,
a sweeping sentiment of sweet innocence;
in the equilibrium of your natural habitat.

Just a rain clouds tears away.

A utopian notion,
broken reluctance inspired by emotions.
A colloquial calmness
confronts the surface,
we burrow
down,
deeper,
for the winter in preparation of the hibernate soul;

The harsh cold paradise takes toil into the parable.
In the midst of Nirvana with a frozen heart.
A lake remains.
The tears turn to rain and solidify likes scars.
The reign is over,

You melt into my arms.

Synchronitities

It's 11.11 again,
AM through to PM,
Just to see you again,
In all your simplicities.

11.11 again,
Now tell me what's the relevance,
When I see you there,
Lying in sentimentality,

You got the 411,
Telling me just about anything,
That you can breath,
Steals your rationality.

11.11 again,
The sentence that won't ever end;
Caught up in a comma coma,
Blinded by the clarity,

11.11 again,
I seen it on the TV screen,
What does it mean to you & me,
Simple sequenced synchornities

Hindsight blues,
I'm tangled up in you but you can't see through the overgrowth -
Thick bristles and whistle blowers,
Tell me your perception of me.

Let's laugh together at the discrepancies,
Don't expect more from me,
You know me better than that,
aristocratic nature, I hate where you come from,
That comfortable turf.

I can't be myself in your world,

Solipsism - listen we can only shine on reflection vision and that takes more than you or I alone.

Still tripping,

Tangled up in you.

feminist

Cut your hair Samson,
beautiful locks.

Wear shirts and chinos,
no matter the costs.

Stereotype my essence,
and call me a man.

Say what you want to,
but not what you can’t.

Pretend I despise you,
when I respect what you say.

I’ll pretend I respect you,
when it doesn’t make sense.

I see you as equal
whilst you condemn me as evil,

or you overlook others,
that I hold close as brothers.

The funny things is,
you’re just as bad,
lad.

Trying to blame other people,
for the substance you lack.

You’re the worst contradiction,
of my opposite form.

Without the ***** of women,
and the allure of the man,

we couldn’t exist,
we go hand in hand.

She takes my breath away,
effortlessly.
She reads my mind like telepathy,
I forget my lines.
Stage fright.
Held dearly in her own mind,
profound and wicked insight.

I was a deer in the headlights,
blinded by this one of kind.
She said,
don’t worry it’s fine.
And now i don't mind,
just my business,
 and my existence is clear.

She steered me through choppy seas,
laid down her policies with honesty
and showed me how to live properly.
guided me through dark times,
stuck to my side like a shadow,
told me i was deep even though I was shallow.

Still my pal now though,
and best friend too,
now i’m investing my nest egg with the best egg
and making omelettes out of our scrambled heads.

would

in the screaming breeze,
a whistles sound forms,
in the winds,
the hibernated scorn of hidden violins,
strung together the suspense.
In the aftermath of silenced stare;

the glare from colours crystalline,
the subtle manipulation of light beams,
in nice dreams,
across the shallow lake,
whilst opaque clouds fade, pale.
In the sound of the backgrounds snarl;

in the woods darkness, black,
the music chooses ehoes between branches,
dangling in tone in the malarkey of
the pain of the mandolins gaze;

each pieces together with tiny,
frost bitten childs sized fingers.
The icy touch lingers for the seconds of death,
that last a pastime,
a lifetime of lust,
in the blink of the dust in the wind.

The level of betrayal
Hit me on multiple levels
Beyond the shadows,
Was it the Devils kiss
Those moonlit craters,
in the gallows,
That created those layers
In the mountains of the Himalayas,
Will they ever tell us,
The secrets lost within those meadows
Flourishing down at base camp.
Flying those false flags in eminence,
whilst were sentenced in the highlands.

Hidden haters,
Camouflaged in winter colours,
the mesa range
a inhabited massif,
A hint of frostbite,
That in hindsight could cost lives,
of those trapped beneath the icy nights.

The snowfall is just drop of ice,
Stinging the eyes of those blinded
by the shards of glass icicles in the avalanche.
A ridge away from the mountain range safety nets.
Disrespected tor of mother natures indignation.
Only the indigenous survive.

Yet in the flames of exasperation,
In the footsteps of evanesce,
A liquesce renders the snow storm useless,
as the sun melts the inundation of the snow slide.

An aubade ray takes over the landscape,
oxidating snowflakes one by one like a machine guns wake.

The temperate rise coincides with the rise of hope within the atmosphere.
The patterns clear and the same mistakes will be made over and over again
until the atmosphere is damaged so severe;

The sun itself will cry a tear.

There was time my mind was yours,
But my heart is yours regardless,
The beats defined a music sheet and you played me like a harpist.

The score settled like rose petals in the essence of the tarnished
The stems remained like overtures,
And that's where it all started.

You blossomed in the minus key,
Your golden touch was midas
The treasure crept in semi clefts,
The breath I took was harnessed.

I played the jester to your beat
And bowed to you my highness.


You took my crown and held me down
The curtains closed in darkness.

Lisbon you look beautiful to me.

Miles high -
the first time I seen your city pretty.

Beneath my feet capture me when I land on you for the first time through turbulence and gin soaked T shirt.

Seeping through to my skin.

The deep sea spoke to the infrastructure,
we landed in harmony with a disruptive aftermath.

The stony paths lead back to those off beat tracks,
as we bask in the heat of the sun.

The smell of wood polish;
sprayed unevenly on the counter top,
brought you back to life.
Back down from heaven and earth into my mind,
where you had evaded me for the longest time.
An aroma of you.
My Great Grandma.
The Greatest Grandma,
I smelt that wood polish and your memory came alive again.
For one final time.
I closed my eyes,
I was a child,
and it was almost like
you came back to life.

She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.

She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.

She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.

She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.

She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.

And you remind me of every person I know and love.

If you can live long enough,
Life will teach you how to live,
And in the moment we'll grow.

And all I can give
Is nothing more than the truth
As we reap what we sow.

I guess it's true what they say,
You live and learn,

Misguided youth now we wait and burn,

I guess it's true that it's easier to fake than it is to actually do.

The devil disguised in the roots,
I watched him grow inside of you.
Inspite of you, I was inspired by you,

But
I was just passing through,
Transparent apparently on a path led with tangled leaves,
Tread into the ground.

I guess it's true that were bounded by love.
As the seasons changed so did the reasons to fall.

And I fell for you implicitly,
like rain drops from clouds.

Still water runs deep,
But the puddle remained,
Ripple less
To take turns to look in the reflection,
of the backrounds sound that reverberates across the landscapes.
Twisted invertebrates,
You still got my back?
We’re stuck in the mud,
up until our waist.
As the sunsets' behind,
I can’t look over,
my dislocated shoulder,
blades,
slice and sharpened,
by pebbles grains,
and then
skimmed across the puddles
so only ripples remain.
Though they soon disappear,
into the stagnant grasp
of fear and statuesque
placid, tranquil times.
In a hushed halycon,
hedonistic slices of life.
Still water runs deep,
but I drown in the shallow aqua,
in the afterlife of undulation.
The aftermath of the ripple effect.

peanut butter and jelly


smooth crunch,
dilapidated layers,
crushed into,
nuts and margarine,
it seems those screams,
in dreams are clarity,
in reality,
whispers of margins,
so close,
shaves and wavy days,
charging in %’s in head rests,
pieces left in indents of you,
on the mattress.
The fact is,
subjective to the
context of sparks,
ignited by espionage,
rubber gloves,
the ****** scope,
from afar,
how did we cope
before they put us together,
in jars.
The antithesis,
of all we can be.
Weak at the knees.
Peanut butter and jelly,
ready to eat.

When you appear to disappear,
a near miss in the atmosphere.
The patterns clear,
and what’s happening here,
Is the same things still,
after all these years.

Talking **** again.

Now you're back again,
acting as if nothings happened,
and,
your trying to laugh it off again,
as if were best friends,
but I can’t pretend this won’t be a repeat like last time.

Telling lies again.

When actually,
this is just your favourite pastime;
you’ve been missing in action for weeks.
No message to check i’m ok.
No call on my birthday.
Now you’ve got the cheek to call on me,
and fall on me,
as you can’t stand on your own two feet.

Drunk again.

So don’t act surprised,
like you don’t know.
When you phone you meet the answering tone.
It’s too late too atone now that i’m all grown,
Maybe you’ll find out now what it’s like to be alone.

**Never again.

The Wild apples grew until they smelt like roses,
A cerebral taste and touch of natures grain,
Familiar to the wild plains that, could only be explained
by the taste of sweetness succinct and personified.
So luscious,
trust us;
lost in strawberry fields and blackberry bushes,
to find our way across the plains underneath the sweet sun,
melting shoulder blades
and boulders reflect the essence of the day in the mountains.

In the mountains clouds hide like scarves around the summits,
and below,
there's an undergrowth where we were exposed.
We went toe to toe in those fields of daffodils and tulips trust.
Our lips touched for the first time as our thirst was quenched in sweat drenched alpine waters.
We dove into the abyss,
a near miss in shallow waters.
As we emerged fresh,
We plant seeds for our sons and daughters to find the roots where we grew together.

"This could last forever"

But it never did
and it never does.

The abstract acrobat

How you going to catch me with those tiny arms,
tiny dancer,
i don’t mean you no harm.

Those words you said went over my head,
and who needs a safety net when your safe in my arms.

Swing with me bambino,
i’m a monkey at best,
an ape at my worst,
I’m not sure what you expect.

Pirouette on those tiptoes that keep your feet on the ground,
It’s futile to get high if we never come down.

You heard me before,
purgatory flaws,
emerging to the sound of applause,

Those circus circumstances,
freak show romances,
We take chances beneath those bright lights.
Each and every night,
we take chances beneath those bright lights,

To the delight of the crowds.

incandescent

Only in yellow flames,
was the outline of your body revealed,
In ethereal guise,
Chalk outlines and white lines defined my kaleidoscopic mind state,
at that peculiar time.
We should of seen the signs,
but the stars aligned,
and your nature, nefarious,
exposed the worst of both of us,
combined.
Sometimes aurora came before sleep,
and I was weak at the knees,
the calmest breeze whistled woodwind notes amongst the trees.
So sure, demure,
You asked me what I was waiting for?
And I reacted chemically,
in luminescence.
I asked you if you learnt your lesson?
It was evident that I was just your favourite daydream.
So I stayed in limerence;
exposed like windless nights to the star skies.  
Infatuated by nothing more than candle light.
I knew I was wrong,
You knew you were right.
I knew you were wrong,
You knew I was right.

Conspiring behind
those confinements
of morality,
justice and sincerity.

A suppressed philosophy,
born from the social elite;
Political correctness at it’s peak.

We seek truth in absolution.
As they round the troops.

In Confucius dreams,
the wisdom is hidden
within the aphorism.
The definition defined.

"Do
not do
to others
what you
do not
want don’t
to
yourself”

From provincial son,
to exile in the sun,
policies,
followed by
astrologies
patterns,
and swallowed by the black holes,
of unexplained notions,
the nature of the soul
and all it’s inhabitants.

Oh sweet Mandarin,
where do we begin?
It’s torture to breath,
and it’s gorgeous to sin.

insides dead,
driftwood emotions,
oceans of regret.
swept under the waves.
Betterdays,
in the horizon.
Hard to find them
in the abyss
of bad habits
that i’ve inhabited.
Agoraphobic,
closed off,
like a treacherous day.
Doors locked,
subdued,
constant moods,
brooding storms in submarines,
under the weather
&
under the sea.
show me the coral reef,
of beautful feelings,
and creatures,
the features of life.
Evade me by day,
and escape me at night.
i can’t fathom the colloquial,
of the same old ****.
i’m down with my nothing,
and i’ll sink with the ship.

I Ran

She had this hedonistic Houdini nature,
She escaped from Shiraz,
Her personal Alcatraz,
She laughed as I asked;
How did you escape?

"I Ran" she said "I Ran"

She was particularly Persian,
Beautiful soul,
Perfect prose,
stunning, gorgeous,
My dreams came true,
As we ran the gauntlet between our acquaintances judgemental glare.

She walked through the door,
With shallow breath and a panting chest;
Windswept hair.
Late.

How did you get here I asked?

"I Ran"

She came so far,
To say I was her King.
Her shy Shah,
She said.
The concept of this,
Flew over my head,

As I asked where she was from,
she paused for a second

&

told me she came from Iran.

normality isn’t the same as the chaos we evade.
The truth is, normality alludes us,
we are formed beyond our minds declination.
Somebody stole my freedom,
using outside of the box thinking,
in your mind and mind.
And I was minding my business,
just trying to take my own sweet time, again.
and deja vu came through the window, again.
the repetition of the rain
cool calm and collected,
the pain subsides,
when i lived in my hiding place
and the raindrops made the gutters flow.

obviously,
yet never expected;
is it you? is it true?
the juxtaposition of you.
but they stole our souls before they attacked the weakened body.
We didn’t hear them coming through the car crash TV;
Are you and I the zombies?
Is your mind in control,
do you mind if they take control,
or do you not mind at all?
When the mask falls the I hide behind isn’t alien in dreams.
not who i saw in the soul.
is it true, deja vu.
so benign in idyllic lies,
a million miles away.
tribes hide behind nothing but a little something to be unique,
maybe a little something else
to be discreet.

But other than that,
food and air,
and company.
there’s not much else we need.
Make up?
Make up your mind -
who decided who you needed to be
it certainly wasn’t you.
Lost in the illusion of choice,
like deja vu,
like Descartes knew,
in collusion with the muse of normality,
by what is true to you,
not actually the truth.
it’s the perfect ephiany in alliance with deja vu.
but what came first ?
my mind, or yours,
through closed doors of inspection;
deception - they let them tell them.
inception - they let them tell them
And I know this fact to be true,
because I’ve seen you in dreams before
and I couldn’t believe my eyes;
or change my view.
I couldn’t believe it was you,
deja vu,
deja vu.

Wait a second.
Steady hand my right hand man.
That must be the effects of the Diazepam.

One in the chamber, one in the chest, one in the body and one in the head.

One for each of his family members,
picture him dead, picture perfect and pick up the pieces after the death.

.....if there's anything left.

I'm right over here.

rat
a
tat
tat.

Onomatopoeia..

What's the matter dear?

Nothing to see here, but bullet ripped flesh and civilian fear.

No need for tears.
No need for tears.

Keep composed. You'll be home soon. In your own tomb or personal hell.
Waking to the sounds and screams of mortuary shells.  

Reload, you know how it goes.

Decomposed in a body bag, forever alone.

Shun individuality,
encourage conformity,
rejected, shunned;       out of place.

Put on your mask,
lets stray outside...
into the slipstream of the mainstream,
and drown in the shallow waters.

Reveal Yourself,
ego dissolves when at peace like a Berroca.
Bring you back to life,
in a spliced moment of clarity.

The ego is society,
your face looks familiar,
but I can't put my finger on your name,
quietly,
we tip toe on the footsteps of the raconteurs,
and forget those that meant the most at moments.

Don't let the mask slip.

He only fell for her
in full bloom blossom,
Now the flowers fell from
the top down unto the bottom
And he's forgotten,
what she looks like in fall.
He didn't love her in autumn
and she was awesome
all year round.

Tear
Gas
Has
No
Use
When
People
Are
Already
Crying

Podium

That’s me on the totem pole,
with the face paints and cigarettes.
The smoke burns your eyes.

That’s me on the pedestal,
ears to ground and eyes in the clouds.
The rain soaked your skin.

That’s me on the platform,
with the rucksack and treasured artefacts,
The timetables melted your mind.

That’s me on the podium,
soaked in sweat, medal around my neck.
The track broke your heart.

That’s me at the finish line baby,
maybe,
we could go back to the start.