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.

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.

I tried a hundred times,
and a thousand times more,
but why?
To become the master,
I had to fail,
more times,
than the beginner is yet to try.

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.

.

Earth, my visceral friend,
Vapid nature, mother tongues.
Spin around in virtuous form.
Contoured landscapes, there's no escape from gravity and scientific theories -
Stay clear of the scorn.

Foreign sands expose the driftwood,
Steer clear of the storm young one.
Amphibious beginnings,
Cold cold heart.
A thousands explosions,
Taken back to the start.

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.

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.

The weight lifted of my shoulders,
Like a gym session,
In heaven,
The clouds were proud.

In essence the lesson never learnt.
Fingers burnt and fractured fingernails.

Fairytalesand horror stories.
A never boring oxymoron.

Who's wrong?
Those stubborn hoofs,
They came through the roof.
Valiant stallion,
That's you,
In a horseshoe.

Nailed to my soul.
My swan song consequence.

We set fire to the same fence
We made sense and perched upon on those past nights.
A past life maybe.

You shared your last bite,
With me.

The last laugh was distinctly humbling,
Your tumbling grumbling,
But still wondering if I was alright.

You saved my life every night.
Welcomed in your humble arms.

You never turned me away,
You never turned your back to me.
Actually,
You had my back,
And I had my backpack.

No questions asked,
No matter what those housewives said.

The last laugh is yet to come,
My beautiful friend.

We grew together -
Jekyll and hide,
Dumb and dumber,
Profound the otherside.

They were never inclined
To try to understand.

Why try?
Gossip and tactics underhand.
They wonder why we turn the cheek,
To the otherside..

The envy is greener in the troubled mind.
A kid ****** up and they wonder why.

There wasn't a second in time,
You second guessed.
Why?

You understood through brotherhood,
The love is unconditional
And I miss you more than a grown man should.

Anxiety consumed the bones in my body,
Consumed in shanty tombs,
You made room in your room,
For me.

Time after time.

I broke through the otherside,
You took your time,
Looking at you live,
I'm not remotely surprised.

The sun hides sometimes,
But we shine,
We shine.

Thee beeline sting my eyes,
We stayed awake for days,

2 am toast again,
Covered in butter,
Missing loafs, just crusts.
Soaked in brotherhood,
It's all good.

To toast again,
The best man.
The best laid plans in a world I was yet to understand.

I was underhanded,
And it haunts my thoughs,
The blood on my hands is more vibrant today than it was ever was before.

I made a home on your floor,
But I  endeavoured for more.

Hale stones weathered storms,
A scapegoat from Wythenshawe.

Immature to the core,
A star,
Sailor,
Surfing clouds of smoke,
Me, you, Treeman and Maz.

Four to the floor.

My selfish insistence,
Envies the distance between is.
Everyday,
Tomorrow
And yesterday.
I made all my mistakes in that safe place haven,
You gave me.
With mutua respect x

You never looked down on me,
Whilst I was down on my luck.

I'm looking up to you now,
I hope your proud,

And that's just the bad times,
A pastime -
Alas,
We laughed until sunrise -
Sometimes it was hard to stop.

Those moments locked in a treasure chest
And I cough with a heavy chest,
But only you and I hold the key to those stupid little memories.

Until the cemetery and four feet deep,
Thank you for making me believe in the fellow human being

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.

Hello sunrise,
My shining subtle friend.
Will you stay with me forever,
No.
For now well  just pretend.

Goodbye darkness,
I confided in deceit,
The secrets that we keep,
Inside
Could bring me to my knees.

Farewell tomorrow,
I loved you in my dreams,
The days go by in couplets
Wise.
But alls not as it seems.

Hold me right now,
Your touch is golden beams,
I've felt you wrap your arms around me
Tight.
And constricted my beliefs.

Here's to yesterday,
The best still yet to come,
Manipulate my finest words
And guise them as a pun.

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,

The snowball effect,
Connects four snowflakes,
A ballerinas tiptoes evades footsteps
On the game board,
A perfect pirouette.
The overtures prologue,
Mother tongues twisted in specific syllables,
To emphasise the divide in culture,
the closeness of nature.
The bubble in a spirit level bursts
And disrupts the axis of the world as we know it.
An Easter egg made of woven hope.
Sweet and septic,
A dangerous connection.
There's electricity in the thunder clouds,
A storms reform,
No prisoners in the matterhorns scorn.
But we must climb to reach the pinnacle of desire,
and grab the bull by its horns.
Torn between the torqiunet,
That restricts our true colours,
The blood seeps through like the Matadors tools.
Only fools would make light of those we share the earth with,
Ma whirlwind changes the landscape,
It can never be the same.
Underneath the terrain,
A lesson remains,
Statuesque,
In the mystery of history's gifts.

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

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.

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.

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?

you can bomb a country to pieces,
but you can't bomb a country to peace.

27 forever,

don’t want to be sixteen please,
not now, or ever,

I’m done being twenty one,
it’s gone,
but gotten better.

but a twenty seven, i learnt a lesson in life,
a life before more eyes,
but wisest beyond my sights beliefs,

forever 27 but not my destiny,
there still life ln me to see beyond horizons,

i’ve seen behind them,
seen behind them in my mind and smile,
behind them,
seen behind them,
and beyond them with a similar style,

i’ve walk among them,
sung their praises in my darkest days,
i still sung them,
but it contradicts my life in ways,

and now we’ve come past,
in contrast to forgotten days,
we seen behind them,
despite of what our mothers
see behind them,
like i know she did back in her day,
behind them
as they are,

i won’t stand by them,
i’ll just stand away afar
and see behind them,
as i’m staring at the stars,

we;ll share the limelight,
they’ll see despite our wicked past,
we’ll shine like diamonds of the past,

illuminate behind them,
as we find a path to walk,
we’ll walk behind them, and we’ll
guide them in the dark,

if the world was ours,
if the world was ours,
(we worlds apart)

conversations correlation to constellations,
and thats an art,
and thats a start,
seen beyond them and behind them from afar,

if this world is ours,
we’ll stand beside them,
worlds apart,
won’t stay divide, because we decided to amass,

this world is ours,
we decided it ours,
escape the grasp,
of whats decided by the dark

I want everything from you,
You want nothing from me.

I want you to be free,
From me.

But I'm imprisoned by who you used to be.

Now I'm left with nothing but what I used to see.

Blinded by the reality,

The clarity is the hardest thing.

Poetry and artistic expression,
make me feel so vulnerable.
The pseudonyms hide my blushes.
from a juxtaposed complexion pale,

Set sail in to the blank page.
Making waves on those contoured lines.
the island of design is on the horizon,
yet it changes state each time we arrive.

i’m not surprised,
bashful,
tactically sound.
the waters are calm,
but i’m anxious,
until my feet feel solid ground.

what you got in your pockets?

Reveal yourself with an object,
let the subtext talk in a million ways.
What you got hiding,
and what does it say?

What you
keep
close,
exposes
emotion.

Your devotion to the object chosen,
is outspoken in a delicate gaze.

Theres a million ways you can spend that minimum wage,
Or a rainy day,
is just a rain
drop away.

And you could save me from the cold with your ignorance.

And i could pickpocket your soul in the holes of  indifference.

But,
What’s the difference anyway.
Keep safe on your daily ways
keep safes, keeps the evil away;

I’ll keep you in my pocket until laundry day,
forget about you'
watching the world go round in bubbles and soap screens.

We got the same jeans (genes),
baby,
We got the same dreams,
baby.

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.

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 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.

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.

One last tequila shot.
Naked on the couch,
Wrestling on the tv.
Nearly thirty.
Nearly February.
Not one resolution  lasted a day.
Dry January?
When it rains it pours.
We could blame global warming,
Or take responsibility for our wrong doings.
Content until there's no penny's left.
Cash rich,
No flinch.
Is there emotion for this?
The nothingness.
The TV won't guide me now,
Adverts in the background,
The glass sounds like a siren as it hits my gold ring,
The tequila brings a taste to my mouth that makes me feel sick..

Standard ****.

I felt your allure, I'd go to war.

But i'm not sure now,
You love me anymore

You look at me, like you seen it all before,

I'm not sure,
You love me anymore.

I drag my feet, across the floor.

I'm not sure,
You love me anymore

I no longer, hold the door,

I'm not sure,
You love me anymore.

I feel alone, when your by my side,

I'm not sure,
you love me anymore.

You are the one that adore.

But I'm sure that
you don't love me anymore.

One day Dostoyevsk talked to me in dreams.
In my early teens, way before the time of my life.
A stripling adolescent,
misspent juvenile youth.
I sat on the roof of the bakery,
reading The Devils.
Over and over again,
until it started to make sense.

Before Kierkegaard,
I found life hard,
no meaning, no dreams came true.
Quantified in my mind,
applied to doctrinal differences I found within,
authenticating the delusions and disorientation of this absurd world we live in.

It all Sartre(d) with being and nothingness.
A cultural movement brought to public providence.
Ominously before I was born,
but I was still torn between being,
and nothingness,
like everyone else.
Distinguishing secular humanism,
rejecting pseudoscience,
apparently.

Now the Blade run’s across my skin.
Married to the cause,
with the force like Harrison,
can you appreciate the retort of
my existential crisis.
We could get lost in the Matrix,
in the “necessary absurdity of the human condition and the horror war”
Like Kubrick.

There’s beautiful new tricks I use to wake up each morning and go about my personal piece of silver screen.