The blade runner,

The blade told me to calm down,
Stop seeing red.
That moment lasted momentarily,
The blade ran across me like an ice skate,
On grooves already used before,
Protruding into the skin and floor,
Momentarily,
As we see red.
Then replaced by new cells,
Or related like ice plains,
Like a new day,
Coincidentally.
Scars remained
and like my palms,
Lifelines that tamed the desires
To be,
Famous,
Or aim for the place where I won't wake up tomorrow.
For the moment has passed
And I'm shattered like glass with tiny pieces of blood drop pouches that decimate the surroundings as they fall to the floor,
I'm sure;
I never asked to be the blade runner.

All you wanted was my wifi code

Why try.
I could see the veins in your head ready to explode.
Always on the line,
Trying to find sweet circumstances left behind in text messages not fresh ink.
Always on my mind, through computerised images and jpegs -
I just wanted a bit of you to save for myself in memory.
The remedy for running out of time and space,
And as I let you into mine,
The first thing you asked me as you looked me dead in the eye after a hard drive home,
was, 'Nate can you tell me what's your wifi code'

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.

I loved you before the alcohol,
Hourglass to the soul,
hour pass,
days maybe...
in between the formulation of golden nuggets in the mountains silver sands.
You held my hand and through velvet touch,
Electricity meander through my arms,
before the storm calm,
the start of a heart attack -
then the pack of house of cards collapsed.
In a deserts smile,
you flatlined through our favourite past times.
The pastures rich with buttercups
and dandelions like the last time.
When we walked over the train tracks harvest.
Last summer and last spring.
Somethings are everlasting,
and some pass like storm clouds without one droplet of rain,
in casting,
our love grew like tulips,
Yellow, red and blue,
bruises,
but soon come the rain,
our muses loses,
&
rendered useles;
I went away and
It's too soon to explain myself,
For that.
Back,
with cap in hand.
Lost in hearts melted by false starts,
and feathered cap,
Falsetto moods
sharp stilettos,
slap back.
I couldn't let go when the sun came through,
and a calming parting of the clouds where the rain came blue.
I thought I could live without you,
but I bottled it,
again.
Now I've nothing left to give,
but my gift to you.
sinking, sleeping in the land dunes
trying to understand you.

her lies taste like sweet nectarine,
those discreet kisses on my neckerchief,
make up on the pillows,
tears inside the handkerchief,
folded over and over to compress our fears into make believe,
in origami,
the patterns left,
embedded in my chest,
alieness to something,
but so close to where you used to be.

In the morning when the moon hides,
That's where I'll be.

The same place,
The same face.

Lost in thought, lost in space, floating around you, just in case;
look up you might see

I'll be amongst the atmosphere biding my time,
Waiting in time to shine off your reflection.

I'll be there at the reception of the clouds,
Waiting for the storm to pass.
You'll be proud now when you see who I am crescenly.

Presently I'm a lunatic, the tides not been on my side recently.
I frequently find myself hiding amongst the abyss, prophetically deep in thought,
waiting for the storm to pass and reveal myself like a lunar eclipse.

Those loose lips cause a nuisance.
Sink ships.

But why do you care about those haters with so many holes and so many craters.

That's not like you, that's not the moon I know.

I'll see you later this evening,
like most nights,
or I might of the storm passes in time.

a quart of tequila,
still no feelings,
spinning ceilings beneath me,

in my venomous state,
we went to comedy night at the viper room.

torn to shreds in the front row,
of a gung ** americanised show.

i came because the river still flows,
with depp and the stageshows from the whiskey a go go,
directly opposite the pavement.

the boulevard was full of cars,
and homeless superstars,
that made it far,
but not past the stars on the walk of fame,
Holly would never be the same again.
*******, *******.

we walked past the cast of a bottomless flask,
cast in the shadows of the sorrows of rodeo drive,
staying alive is easy,
follow,
the yellow brick road and wish for a dollar.

tomorrow is another day.

i seen a man of my same age,
he was a traveller,
vocabular immaculate,
hair cut ******, dindn’t shave much,
one of the same touch.
grubby hands and unfinished plans.

his sign said, were ******.
i teared up,
he looked up and stood up and we hugged.
i could see me in his weird look.
just another rhyme in my page book.

i gave him a bag of survival necessities,
i hunted him down after 24 hours.
i was worried to go back,
and finish what i started.

i consider the concept as an artist,
but the truth is this,
the humanist within,
could never miss that appointment.

he sat there in the same spot,
and if i didn’t come,
he could of lost faith in the promise of a circumstance.

i took a certain stance,
he said he was a traveller,
a poet with grubby hands,
i held him with open arms.

i don’t worry about him,
i worry about you,
a ***** and the truth,
trumps and mansion and no use.

i’ve read between the lines,
and wrote this motion on tightropes and suspended emotion.
they want a showman,
but when we show them the ocean,
the don’t want to know the deepest minds inclined.

absolutley,
mutiny in the ranks,
my heart sank when you decided to revamp,
your opinion of me implicitly.

minor to me,
skeleton key to multiple routes.
i never gave a **** about your opinions then,
and I certainly don't give a **** now,

nor have i ever,
stared the gift horse in the mouth.

Allure to me with your bonescent,
sweat stench brought me closer.
Bone structure kept you here.
In my radius you stayed.

So nearly an artist, fickle.
Dearly departed, I miss you.
Brittle.

And I just kept saying no;
I couldn't handle you.
You must've miss understood the tone;
outspoken through the mandible.

Now I was out of my mind,
Insane at best.
Out of the body experience from inside the mind of the cranium.
Actually you were caught in cult of her anatomy.
First born in the ossification of you.

The next time he spoke,
awoken a sentiment.
The exoskeleton protected what was hiding inside.
And we decayed decayed.
His skeleton exposed; he grew on me like bones of a child.

And I've known his scent still sticks to my shell.
Under my skin and underground,
in the catacombs.

But only bones sent me here.
Just to snap back to reality

Golden fool,
The remnants of Calypso like ghost towns,
After the love has gone.
A rush of adrenaline,
A touch a sentiment,
Combined forces of a gorgeous remorse.

Time takes it toll,
On bones,
A brittle tone exposed,
Holes in the ground
And holes in our chest,
Where a heart used to beat.

The steam engine,
In its prime,
Looked never ending on that train tracks spine,
Minds twisted in a deluded guise,
That couldn't call time,
In the time of our lives.

Tell them the one about the skeleton son,
Tip toes protruding through the soil where we dug that day,
Under the beating sun,
The sweat dripped like honey,
To the body stuck in the mud,
Absorbed by the rotting corpse,
But lifeless in form,
Forever more.

Forever yours,
Calypso town x

The musician

Nothing more
&
nothing less than
a travelling instrument,
with
the voice of a thousand ashtrays
&
the past of a thousand mistakes.

Living life out  a suitcase,
and abused stained sheet music,
a sweet movement,
some say.

Some said he was to cute to change;
he would make it someday,
but for now,
just feeling those home town blues,
in a city so far away.

Take a walk in those shoes,
one size too small.
Let the soles talk in rhythms
played,
the beat of the drum conundrum.

Done
London,
LA,
New York
&
Lisbon;

Still searching
for something;

The band missed a beat,
and now he misses the the band.

He’s got the crowd in the palms of his hands,
but they’ll never understand;
the music
man.

lightning doesn’t strike twice
two feet and two knees that nobble occasionally,
and chatter like teeth in an arctic freeze.
Together in harmony.
Now since the rain clouds
washed those other clouds away,
and you were drained.
When you breathed a rainbow,
golden soul,
and drew the route of you in the window,
pain.
Primary coloured moments;
exposed in chrome,
caught in time,
no remains.
But then the stars and superlatives came to play.
And the memories fade.
When the night first spoke and the sun laid to rest.
He spoke of Moondust and mistrust of the Government.
They told him once,
and they told him twice,
that science could only be defined by what we know.
So he searched the stardust on the seabed,
and seeked what he sowed.
Oceans away from home,
only to piece together tiny shards of shattered stars,
with those telescopic time machines that he used to own.

hello
bitter,
sweet,
secrets.


Impeach the president.

Sentiment is evident.
I never meant you any harm.

Said the weapons company,
supplying those arms.

Put a lid on it tonight,
fliladmites.

You can't harm me either,
I believe in beauty within the eyes of the receiver.

I'll blow away your limbs.
Second guessing the atoms patterns.

This track here (trachea)
crush your adams apple.

bite it judas,
move past the eden garden.

I'm hardened like solidification

Vindication evades me.

In a daydream,
they seem,
so lazy.

Pay me for the time spent dropping bombs on then tombs of family tree.

Gravity brings me back to earth,
and the drill takes me underground to the burial grounds.

I'll lay flowers around your decrepit eulogy.

It never bothered me before.

And these dreams will be the death of me.
Broken sleep &
relentless lethargy.
I'm out of control,
so I'm told.
I've slipped outside of my soul,
or so I'm told.
My nose runs consistently,
Yet I don't have a cold.
Now everything hurts,
and yet I feel so cold.
REM dream sequences;
play me on repeat.
play on repeat,
Everybody hurts too but they carry on,
Won't admit defeat.
Not me,
I bend under the pressure,
Malleable,
& then break what's,
Valuable.
I'm weak at the knees,
alieness in alloness of stress;
Please let me rest,
Stop stealing my shut eye by looking in to mine,
I walked the line,
But crossed it,
No going back now I think,
I shudder each time I blink.
And in dreams I believe I could be happy,
Or at least not so sad,
Wishing to feel those feelings
That I've predominately lacked.
Now in dreams I wait to see a GP
in reality,
So he can endorse these feelings into clarity,
Prescribe me patronisingly with 50mg of setraline;
"I'm sure alls not as bad as it seems"
He says so candidly,
Whilst I'm sat here,
can't even speak,
trapped at the mercy of these endorphinemachines.

I used to climb Trees

Out in broad daylight,
where we used to ride bikes,
My home time was defined by streetlights,
fistfights and first times.  

I used to play kick stone.
outside on the roads of my home. 
Scared of the dark when I was home alone. 
A sombre tone in those days. 

My cul-de-sac was a continent,
you couldn’t count the times 
we jumped hedges and jumped the brooks,
wider berths as we grew and beamed with confidence.

He grew up on the other side of the brook to me!

Exploration into dilapidated buildings,
to seek out lost felines for the £10 reward. 
One guy got stung by a bee nine times, 
he lived to tell the tale of course.

Thinking back sometimes, 
It was us who had nine lives,
playing on the tramlines and and swimming in high tides.
colliding with live wires and life lessons,

We built sandcastles and burnt them down,
in spaces of seconds.
Lost in imagination.
I stayed in the sea until my fingers wrinkled, 
but this happened more often in the bath if i’m honest.

It seemed so simple, 
within the borders of our town, in those days.
The good old days,
or so they say - 
but i don’t disagree with the sentiment of it all, if i’m honest. 

It’s a ghost town now,
Treehouse's and broken fences,
Sweet shops and trips to the dentist.
A playground apprentice,
like Dennis the menace,

Ernie and Bertie,
maybe.

The bell rang more times than I care to remember.

It symbolised the beginning of the next class rather than the end.
To some at least, i’m not quite sure precisely who.
But it always started in September. 

Those were the days, 
Kiss chase and roller skates 
missed chances and romances.
First dances and your first falls.

The sycamore tree got smaller,
but remains the exact same size.
The boys got a little bit taller,
some of us guys even became wise.

Life is full of surprises. 

We flew apart. 
The sun went down and we grew up.

And now I don't climb Trees anymore.

‘On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month,

‘when the guns fell silent we will remember’*


When those visions from past missions played with intuition,

We just forgot about them!

When that PTSS kicked in and they started acting different.

We forgot about them!

When they came back home, got evicted from there homes and froze on the streets.

We forgot about them.

When they died alone, with not a comrade in sight, or a well wisher in miles.

We forgot about them.

When we pray for those who have died, but ignore those who are still alive.

We must of forgot about them

I can't find myself in the usual hiding places

I only became alive inside your minds eye,
caught between the landmines as we **** tried,
to break through the new unto the other side,
but under the seas I could only see the sapphire,
golden blue we knew the landslides didn’t land fine,
and punchlines soon turned into black eyes,
that blew up on the spot as we stand tired,
The lies told the truth until it transpired,
I never knew I could be burnt until I held fire.

Sometimes I write things and then look back at them and think...
                                    *Was that really me?

The salesman

I made you mine in compliance corpse,
Your hanging on my line.
I know you've been fooled before,
But trust me one more time.
I know this call is frozen,
And my callings changing state,
You melt into my mellow tone,
The telephones mistakes.
I made my wage in vagueness,
The trust of open minds,
The devil stole my sold that day
And I'll pay for it in time.

On Angels Wings,

Dearly departed,
i miss the artist in you.
Soweto Springs.
Marooned in the mountains,
of stakes split socialism states.
so
high.
Liberalise my mind one final time,
before you
f l o a t into paradise.
Enchanted wonderland,
big game Zion elysium,
in the Kruger National park.
I miss you after dark;
Your kingdom come in those
happy hunting grounds.
How low could one go.
Perched upon Kilimanjaro,
table top feasts,
the
wilderbeasts,
perch upon the mountain range,
and
will eat you alive.
I miss you in the mourning.
I have no words.
None.
Johannesburg.
Where you gave birth to my world.

the dark, the death, the knight

through a smudged sense,
of reflections in the mirrors,
obscure those never-ending sinners,
amongst us, losers and the winners.

The path pathed through tranquility,
in pilgrimage with the night.
Darkness passed and daylight spoke,
the sharpness slice of spikes.

A mellow calling forms storms,
the meadow's yellow namesakes.
Nameless reverberation heard,
between the birds and bone breaks.

It takes more than Haven,
in the afterglow of the last laugh.
the paths crossed shards of glass,
the waters ***** from the back splash.

In the aftermath of white noise
and the tyrants rise in silence. ,
mother nature defeated the motherland,
and the whole world sang together
in alliance.

when it hit you home.

you’re eyes closed at shutter speeds,
when the heart sinks,
or sank.
and each blink individually,
starts to take a second of your life from me,
frivolously.
and your mind focuses,
but like a broken lens,
you nictate, nictate,
like you’re stuck on repeat.
and you dictate the aftermath,
like you have admitted defeat.
as cynosure slips from your fingertips.
the closure in the locus.
you spoke to me in hindsight,
and you spared me in the moment.
still glowing, albeit, caliginously.
you described the bright lights in defiance,
lying sweetly,
in a conversation, in constellations,
i’ll remember you in full bloom;
in keepsakes;
we wished to the the stars aligned,
shining flowers for you in the nights sky.
whilst you fought for your life, in kind.
high as a kite, twinkle in your eye,
as you guide your life
away.
still in spite,
of your perdition,
the latest addition of you.
when i see you in ruin.
through the body as it mortifies,
and your fortified smile,
tortured denial,
a defiant forcefield,
shatters and eviscerate,
and as you evaporate;
i see your lips crack through dryness,
my queen and highness;
i’ve not seen you laugh for a while.
and as I see time pass,
from you astute,
a calmness in your eyes grew,
and now when you belly laugh,
you gasp for air,
it’s as if,
not much is inside there.
as you stutter and stammer,
judgement impaired,
scared.
and yellow coloured,
tinged skin,
bed ridden
in affliction,
to me,
to you.
as it dawned on me
and then it dawned on you.
when it finally hit you home,
nothing left but skin and bones,
the final petal of a rose,
fell.


**I still miss you.
I miss you still.
I always have,
always will.

When these guns salute
they’ll need roses
when the metal pops,
stemmed from the truth until the last petal falls off,
but theres no romance in the commotion of the outspoken,
left broken torso twisted into specific yoga poses,
body’s go missing of the scene like a mystery, it’s hocus pocus,
This is a cold one (cauldron) it’ll get mixed until the remix surfaces,
on track here to defeat your purpose,
crush the trachea so you can’t breathe,
they got no Eyedea (idea)
Everyday, this is one of the seven deadliest, akin to a swarm of locusts,
they lose focus in the colloquial informality of the death chosen,
expose fossils fools (fuels) make them leave earth like a Diplodocus,
awoken from a deep sleep with deep heat to the exposed wounds,
so many bodies left in old tombs we gonna be needing some more room soon.

twisted blue soul,

everyone says their blue for you,
not me,
not me.

they told me you were beautiful,
i can’t see,
i can’t see.

they said you had a twisted blue soul,
that can’t breathe,
that can’t bleed.

i didn’t believe those rumours,
gold.
can’t be,
can’t be.

the blue prints in the news prints shown,
that
gifted
twisted
bluest
soul,

ice cold shoulders,
bold.
why me?
*why me?

everyone cheats.
its easy to be easy,
and hard to be real.

it takes a man to be true.

theres no one but you.

Proper pushing my luck holding my phone like a flair in the bath,
Protected like rubber but the ducks on it back.
I hear the echoes, confused as it sounds like a quack.
Seems that it's true that they had the last laugh.

A long whsispered monologue
Curling up in a ball
The fresh air of winter morning
Sleeping with the lights on
A first and final passionate kiss
Tip toeing down a hallway
Conversations at twilight
Eating chicken wings with nothing to clean your hands
Searching for lost treasure.
Waiting for the rain to come.
Watching a snowflake melt into water.
The first crop of the season.
When somebody hands your wallet in,
And the money still in it.
Reconnecting with old school friends.
Visiting foreign shore and ancient city's.
Building a business, building a brand.
A trip to the Tate national.
The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan and Neil Young,
For starters.
When the night won't seem to end.
The sound of your voice in the morning.
Breakfast in bed, fresh coffee
In a wide open space.
*For all those times I took you for granted.

the caterpillar can't comprehend the life of a butterfly x

I bet you wouldn't put those tattoos on your gravestone

Not that's it's any of my business,
But you look like an idiot,

And I heard you say that girls name and it ain't the same as the one on your neck as your necking today,

Is it mate,

And I don't mean to come across boring,
But I'm sure your mothers name ain't Tory either.

Necks covered in angel wings,
and misdemeanours;
I hope there's someone watching over you to see you make those mistakes.

It looks pretty cool though - make no mistakes.

But I can see through your thick rimmed spectacles.

Making a spectacle of yourself when you can clearly see.

A small package bugling through your skinny jeans
And of course Dr Martens,

And a quiff that's bleached.

Farewell flower child,
Don't look so amazed and glare,
When people stare at you and your down right ridiculous tattoos,

On the platform after me that's a par for you,

I was only passing through,
With naked skin,
Untouched by ink.

You would think I didn't want to leave a mark in this world were in.

Rainbow
moments
divide
our
desires
into a
spectrum
that
can
never be simplified
by colours alone
X

you say you paved the way for me,
with a bicycle on the motorway,
and a lorry on a cul de sac,
thats one way for
the light to illuminate the dark streets.
apparently,
but then when pieces didn’t fit together,
like lego blocks as kids,
you left me in my teens,
when I needed you still.
and ever since
still water runs deep,
i drowned without you around.
when simplicity was a gift horse we stared
in the wide open mouth.
you stayed still,
i moved south.

we no longer talk often.
I gave up on you,
after you replaced me so hastily,
when you gave up on me,
and i thought you hated me,
what will be will be.
maybe.
I saved my best trick,
for the encore.
you wanted more from the performance.
it dawned on both of us that,
the camels back broke from
straw stories told over
and over again.

now you look at me strange,
when you look up and see me at something,
you never asked me to.
old bitter blue,
eyes,
wide,
surprised that i made it -
without you
almost frustrated,
i never doubt you too,
i just did it with or without you.
so i won’t shake your ageing hand.
respect speaks for it self.
it’s a two way street.
Not a cul de sac.

Some roads you go down and theres no turning back.

Depression Sessions,

Without making light of those trapped in the dark,
that setraline sentimentality exposed modern art.
Theres a cavity in the canvass,
despair and distress,
decayed daily until theres only just the crevasses left.
I digress,
your highness.
High times, crash down finesse.

What did you expect?

Now you're acting as if theres nothing left.
When in three days you’ll make the same mistake again.
Just to take the pain away.
Or so you say.

But you’re not depressed.
Stressed, maybe.
Tired,
jaded maybe,
but the lights not faded you just took the wrong road that day.

Now there’s no way of coming back.
You’re not cool for that, this isn’t a cul-de-sac.
You keep taking me back and I just relapse.
And collapse after the session,
ready for the sentence.

Repentance a breath away.

casually breaking your heart

i was walking the line,
inside those guideline confinements you marked out on the pavement in chalk all those years before.

I still see them x ray vision,
when i sneak by nostalgically,
less and less as the years go by.

I didn’t know at the time,
but it seems I was casually breaking your heart.

Gradually time heals real wounds and feelings,
exposure to the pain grows alongside the overgrowth greenery.

Picture the scenery,
and all that you mean to me,
as i’m casually breaking your heart again.

So long to the honey drip,
another quip yet to come.
We emerge ensured bacteria,
surrounded in the Somme.

One script a day keeps the evil away

You were the first tomb I ever knew.

Sweet sixteen,

All tangled up in you.
You carried me like a chariot,
I know now how hard it was,
to bring me up on your own,

Seventeen,

child teething and broken evenings when you could of been day dreaming or on the scene - if it wasn't for your love for me.
Implicitly so pretty,

Eighteen years old as I crawled and drew on the walls with lipstick red,
and painted the toenails of my father - with you, only for you.
There was plenty of places we had lived
in ice cream castles together
and you were only twenty three,
when I was seven.
So many lessons learnt and fingers burnt as I grew up in a fairytale together on fairywell road.
Me and you together, only for you.
Then you got married and I was your baggage but you carried me so strong but I developed bad habits,
by the time you were my age now.

At twenty nine,
I was a teenager.
How did you do what you did for me,
I'll never know.
I just know I couldn't do the same and you maintained your allure, class and dignity and nature of the finest kind,
Only for you, my queen without a crown.
And now you may be forty six and I live miles away,
I'm 29 and been awake for days
I still miss you each day,
And you gave me a new family,
A brother and sister and a role model too,
It was only for me and it was only for you.
Now I hope you're proud and I'm never surprised when you forgive my sins through my puppy dog eyes.

Only for you. Only for you X

I realised I couldn't make change,
So I stopped trying to make it,
Now I walk past outstretched hands,
Born to make mistakes.

To take the time to discover the world before we lived in today,
That exists before us,
There so much more,
But have those ancestors ever mattered less.
The history lesson
Feels like detention,
People careless now than they ever did before

And that's no metaphor,
For peace or freedom,
Emancipated in the dawn of mind
But will my generation make more change than the one before.

We heard Cassius clay,
Make that change - from his slave name to rounding an army -
Followers Muhammad Ali.

We heard Malcolm X,
Make that change,
People looking at him strange when he took aim at the oppressors.

We heard Marcus Garvey,
Make that change,
Force thoughts through a better day,
To escape that pain.

We all heard Snowden,
Make that change,
Expose the corrupt,
But he's the one they want to put it in to chains.

We heard Bob Marley,
Trying making that change,
Emancipate from mental slavery,
Of the mistakes our ancestors made.

Now it's time for you and I,
To make that change,
Follow in the footsteps that were left to guide the way.

tomorrows yesterday is todays tomorrow.
Our time is borrowed from the onslaught of hollow thoughts,
invoked in sorrow.
i’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,
Still alienated by those metaphors as if we’ve never even met before.

The heart aches from the heart break,
i’m not even sure if I can take anymore.
Time takes it’s own sweet time.
Those bittersweet melodies so hard to define,
in time,
we atone.
played through the scales based upon the memories alone,

one last prose
for the road,
shrouded
with
Rosebush regrets,
compunction and shame,
of
anguish and pain,
knowing things can never,
quite
be the same as they were,
yesterday.
In prickly heat,
sweaty, sweet, benediction.
My demuric affliction,
masks and veils addiction.
Stifled in harbours
of
resentments first tooth.

Who knew,
the crow flew in a
beeline.
Stinging' it’s way amongst the vagaries.
The geodesic distance,
hides in the light,
but
the road,
      bends,
  and
     throws those
curveballs
       I swerved,
around them all,
as,
I’m not ready to fall for you;
petal.
With my foot on the metal,
I took the road for granted.
Granted,
I should of known better than a
kiss from a rose.

Just because it sounds good. Doesn't mean it makes sense.

that girls already gone,

You can stand and watch in the distance,
but you know it won’t make a blind bit of difference,
you  see, you can’t change every opinion,
that girls already gone.

Now you could stay up for days,
change yourself in a million ways,
but some things can never change,
and that girls already gone.

If you truly value this place,
bend and break, just walk away.
before it’s been too long, it’s too late.
then that girls already gone.

Symmetrical Syria we sympathise in synchronisation of sirens and sadistic nature.
Those man made craters, aren't the force of Mother Nature,
They depict only hatred and a tyranny statement,
That says our generation will never see peace,
Just pieces of you,
Torn and decimated from targets based on generalisations,
As if a minority defines the whole population.
We seen it before in Iraq,
Now we're back for more with pre determined attacks.
When they asked first,
They said no at once,
Cue the worst still yet to come,
They asked again,
And they bent and broke,
From the rubble comes a white smoke,
But there's no new pope,
And there's no hope,
Just none.

The headlines say ISIS,
But the mind might miss the fine print,
The truth is inside it,
But we're not inclined to find it,
Propagander at its finest, from the highest to those that digress and make our minds up for us in the name of democracy's mindset.

If it's not in your name, then who can we blame?
Those men we empowered time and time again?

Watching news, with a second of thought,
Of course you believe it,
Who needs a secondary source?

No remorse,
of course.

Just corpses and a sea as blood as far as the headlines will breath.

It took me long time to start writing again,
so I started by lifting my pen.
Keep it simple i said,
and in a second I was inspired.

At one point I was frightened I might not write again, or find the time.
I was in a different place and the moment changed in a second, and in my mind time was mine again.

Life took over and work just became me. Some choose to and some have to, it's a crying shame.

Now I'm close to where I need to be,
So I can be free and enlightened and back to the moments that I'll always hold closest to my heart and soul.

So those targets and goals were temporary,
but it turns out it's not what you have but who you are that remains permanently ingrained in your memory.