Means of production for
repetition of an old proposition.
More for more's sake,
each against each other.
All on the take.
A fight to be "self-made."
So, come,join the staid.
Share or care, compassion.
All are in America; unmade.

Ah, how long it's been.
Century and century of unoriginal sin.
We've lied and killed,
****** and been ******.
Grown out and up then round and back in.
Our head held high ideals,
over our dirt grounded feet.
The terror we've seen,
Each person we've ever been.
Looking for something beyond unoriginal sin.

Old wooden knot holed thing.
rust wearing; sitting unplayed.
Strings silent.
Manuscripts of faded scores.
Tarnished ink quavers and semi quavers,
ride the weary stave.
This unheard music fills
the room with it's silence.

A Dance away from the
unquestionable answer.
hewn up in strings of moving space,
save a new question for a new day.

In all the toque of talk,
with what whatever will be.
Sheered off in all the spin.

Passages of statements,
towering columns of words.
Totter and teeter in unsure equilibrium,
all coded in meander messages.

In all the toque of talk,
with what whatever will be.
Sheered off in all the spin.

With purity or clarity;
only victory can win.

You may think you have no shadow.
But I see it dancing behind you.
I can't see it's face,
but I'm sure that it's smiling.
But it's no smile of fructose.
Just of bile and scorn overdose.

With topography riding limbs.
In seamless synchronisation
with yourself.
I hear it whisper and hiss,
with sounds of ****** bliss;
At each unseen bruise inflicted.

If words had wings
and birds had words.
What would we
hear from the words the
birds would sing?
Words of the hardship
of the wing.
Or songs of love that
lovers sing?

Some people come,
some people go.
Sometimes I shrink,
sometimes I grow.
And other times;
I just don't know.

Some people come,
some people go.
Sometimes I shrink,
sometimes I grow.
And other times;
I just don't know.

As we ride through the tide
of the ever increasing us.
It quickly becomes clear,
that the dead aren't the
only one's who died.

Hush little one.
No one will hear,
over the sound of the gun,
the panic on the street,
rule of the ruthless,
speech of the insincere.
So hush little one,
share you silence with everyone.

We'll never know which of
our mistakes were lucky breaks.
Or if indecision;
was the right choice.
All we know is where we are,
if not what we are.
Even if;
we've made a mockery,
of the world's tickery tockry.
So walk on, sing strong,
with a heart in your voice.

Wrap yourself up in the night,
with wingless silent flight.
Up, up into the
Pin-pricked speckled sky.
With that glowing blank-faced
lunar loon.
Beyond the dark, into dreams.
That morph and shift, pour and flow;
As if the woken world is
something you can un-know.

Something like a tear,
but unseen.
Runs out between;
our space.
Tracing the clouds
from our silver lining.
To a feeling that
is in need of defining.

Teeth Will walk,
Words Will dance.
Tongue's whip lash
Frenzy.
Cut's into eye's state;
Askance.

Living as an imprint
in the sand.
Temporarily there.
Whisked up,
erased by the air.
Just as if;
you were never there.

It bears repeating,
friends are fleeting.
they come and fly by,
with the out a glance.
Or a care in their eye.

Goodbye, to you.
Even as each tear falls,
when the past calls.
Goodby my former friend
goodbye.

Talk is cheap.
To you; I'm cheaper.
It hurts, you know,
evey time you go.
And it hurts the most
when you go for good.

Oh, an image's sweet deceit.
Mirror refracted reference
of truth; incomplete.
Full of speaking,but;
Silent now in meaning.

As every proud cloud,
hangs heavy in parallel.
In each lie's dowry.

Carbon bleak black streets.
Night bitten breezes blowing.
With countless; lonely heartbeats
Car lights speeding.but:
Not a sound is speaking.

As each lithe light,
Travels a blinding path.
But only, to be lost:
swallowed by the night.

You don't like the way the mirror's
looking at you.
It's looking right through you,
at the true you.
With it's pointed pique appraisals.
So you just turn and walk away.

Whatever comes,
whatever goes.
Whatever sinks,
whatever floats.
It all still grows.

even in the midst
of change's
ebbs and flows.

I don't need to see you to kiss you,
or not be with you to miss you.
No need for flowers,
speech or silence in our hours.
Or to tell you twice in a trice.
We just need to be;
to show what we both know.

What is the use of a human being?
A human doing.
That loves the thrill of the purchase.
To consume and reproduce.
With total belief and dependence
on the system that keeps
us mind-locked.
When we all can be, and do,
so much more.
But for now the future
lays behind a self-locked door.

I woke up one day,
the sun had gone away.
While the moon
was nowhere to be seen.

In the growing cold,
the ice was gaining ground.
While time was growing old.

soon there would be no-one
to remember what had been.

The lines in the distance,
join into one.
we're heading to the
vanishing point.
If we disappear;
maybe it would be
a better difference.

Awry this earth's become,
frayed by changing fiction.
Dreaming of what,
once never has been.

Sold as a vain token,
for an declining return.
Fortold by our history.

Soon there will be no-one,
to tell of what was seen.

The lines in the distance,
join into one.
we're heading to the
vanishing point.
If we disappear;
maybe it would be
a better difference.

I want to melt a wax Viking,
with a piece of sword shaped kindling.
Watch the face drip, sag run into a
droopy frown of fluid features.

To saw the head from a celebrity mannequin.
Watch fall it to the floor,
with it's perfect teeth and face;
plastic smooth skin.
Almost as plastic and smooth as the “real” thing.

To tear the words from the mouth
of a liar, cheat, chancer and con-man.
Rearrange the words to spell out the truth.
watch the eyes and puffy face spasm,
as if possessed by a phantasm.

From the thousands of lines drawn.
The pastel scribbled and smudged.
Paints graced onto blank spaces.

Why do I do?
No money, no acclaim.
But all the same,
I still do.

Notes strangled from guitars,
or arranged on staves.
Sound shaped to unseen geometry.
Heard by the occasional ears.

Is it all junk?
I'm no too sure
But all the same,
I do more.

Words thought and typed,
wrote and re-written.
Nonsense and sense,
some may have read.

Is there skill,
or sense in my sentences?
Or am I lost in
my own pretences?

A twist of a knot,
inside your skull.
a thought, a feeling.
Not to speak.
Such is the spirit of
the will of the weak.

Dream of an act,
or piston strong words.
Always fertile, never born.
Your struggle is yearning.
Doubt has a habit of
keeping you turning.

In a tryst of not,
still-born sapling.
A Restless dance.
In unending motion,
any action is studied Askance.

Just some words on the run.
swift across the page.
fleeing from each
snappy slogan you
slip them into;
as is the fashion,
in the social media age.

Cash-bag that hashtag,
in your ego's account.
watch that self
worth multiple,
until finally you're
the apple of your
own eye.

For other's “inspiration,”
flash your bare
cheek ***.
for other's “motivation,”
show that six pack
muscle stack.
As if you're both
the world highest ideal
and  it's base foundation.

But, all that's wrong
is true of me too.
so just like them
pass me by.
After all, this whole
thing is more words on the run.

I keep trying to trying to write,
but the words keep running off into
the night.
While I collapse into docility.

It's as if me and creativity have
gone through a divorce.
I guess I must have thought
with a little too much force.

Maybe if I get a late night snack,
the word's will come running
back to take a bite.  
while I burst into verbosity.

Drowning deep below,
while your words walk on water.
Swell and foam;
swim within and roam.
Just like the,
tears of your daughter;
all alone.

Grasping for self expression,
in unheard syntax.
They're are no longer yours,
as they walk to the shore.

Liquid leviathan's,
molten methods of meaning.
A truth for a truth;
matchstick's burning use.
Just like the,
world needs much cleaning;
to atone .

Grasping for self expression,
in unheard syntax.
They're are no longer yours,
as they walk to the shore.

Words wings clipped,
By a shadows sharp edge.
falling down
to meet history's drowning dregs ,
swim and struggle in the
unseen stream.
Dying alone unheard.
Goodbye; dear word.

Everyone a wit by meme's viral decree.
In a world filled with obnoxious
visual flourish.
Visions of you for you,
and me for me.
Scream out form each
personal singularity.
in this word weary world.

We all learnt to love ourself,
but forgot how to love anyone else.
We're a mirror reflecting itself.