ive put my head through the loop
felt the rough rope
prickle and pinch
ive tightened the knot
just so
snug behind my ear
but not too snug
ive let it take my weight
bent my knees before eternity
ive seen the tunnel
seen the light in the dark
calling
felt its pull
repulse me
ill come to you death
you smug *******
you wont take me
alive

flat yet hollow
open resonance abounds
fingers find sorrow
wherever they land
music speaks of tomorrow
of past abandoned
left behind
gone solo
weeping tears of the mind
single coil motto
muted yet defined
roll off tone
roll on echo
discordance hard to find

the best is behind us
the rest of our lives will be spent
paying penitence
for the cost of yesteryears opulence
the sins of the fathers
bestowed upon us
with consumption to bind us
internal combustion denied to us
rights being silenced
men with guns as their final defiance
of the wants of the overpopulous populace

itll be a riot.

when stoked
im fire
im burning entire
rake over my coals
make my flame reach higher
caresses like ice
succumbing to the pyre
steam rising
from colliding
elemental desire

life is yours
for such a short time
dont return it
with no scratches
and a full tank
the penalty is the same

ive realised that what is real has very little to do with our reality
that the stories weve been sold eclipsed it long ago
that weve paid in gold
to have streets paved in stone
to fall to when the gilt is gone
and the rock
and the hard place
are seen to be one

"where's everyone gone"
the new life asked
"they've gone back to where they came from
back to dust"
said time
"but who will show me the way"
asked youth
"life will"
spoke age
who'd seen it all before
and had the patience of aeons
"but I need to know now"
demanded naivety
"yes, you do"
said wisdom, with a smile.

the irony is
that ends prompt actions
its always too late
once procrastination
lets go of the chains
that have held you back from
the things that you would have liked to have done

magic flows
from my fingers
flowing
it lingers
lovingly
in my ear
holding her
letting her breathe
making her sing
makes me happy
to be here
she whispers to me
oscillates
at my frequency
lets me speak
my soliloquy
without saying a word
what a waste of life i would be
with no ability for creativity
i have a need for my heart beating
while my soul still has melody
yet to be heard

the words we said
are dead and gone
their pain remaining
stubbornly
the sting this tale
delivers often
keeps it fresh in memory
emotion decomposed and rotten
left alone to atrophy
now i feel
its time to move on
unforgettable
has forgotten me

centre of a universe
mostly of my making
exception taken to exceptional lengths
to anything infiltrating
made up my mind
making running repairs
working with tools shaped by the same fool
that put me there
if i was a spider in a web
id be hovering over a mirror
waiting for the other spider to move
so i could eat it
im a monster of my making
overripe and set for reaping
im just waiting for the drop
im king **** of **** heap

you hide your fire inside
where its burning you alive
the pain of keeping it aflame
is shining in your eyes
in protecting it from the rain
youve stopped seeing the sky
look up while some spark remains
before the heat inside you dies

my sage advice
is more sage than wisdom
yet they call me occam
when they seek my counsel
better a devil you know
when advocacy is needed
but beware
this devil has a devil of his own

oil and water

you and me

never seeing

where we meet

in the middle

why as a species
have we consistently
empowered the enfeebled
allowed them to lead the way
what does that say about us
when what sets us apart
is our ability to deduce
we need to stop and decide
if we are the right animal
for the top of the food chain
as i suspect we taste
better than we think

where will i put the ball
without a net to aim for
and a man to whistle
and approve

how do i become everything i despise
in order to fit my mishapen thoughts
into the cracks undercutting
their fundamentally broken world
how do i overcome the revulsion
of seeing my reflection in the mirror
knowing every step i take towards financial freedom
binds me tighter to the oar bench of a sinking ship
set afloat on a sea of abject poverty
every tainted pound i make i steal from another
in this competition of survival where
natural selection is bypassed in the name of
exponential consumption
every meal i buy i steal from the lips
of someone who will never taste sweet promise again
every penny i pay in tax
to sustain a long dead dream
kills another man i dont know
with a bullet he wont hear
in a land i cant visit
as anything other than a culpable murderer
my shame arresting me with a jurisdiction
no court of human "rights" can ever understand
how do i look around me
at those that commit blind atrocity
in the name of demonic democracy
with their ignorant bliss
and not want to ravage their pretty
pampered throats with my teeth
spilling their warm careless lives
into the dust at their feet
of those that failed to learn
the lessons of the past
or saw the revolving door of politics
spit out clone after differently hued clone
painted with the same brush
hewn from the same men of the cloth
and came away spun and believing the hype
without ever acknowledging the possibility
of another radical option
how, in words without the ambiguity
of those with a reputation to protect
and a dollar to make
do i **** everything and everyone
that makes life a race to be run
a game to be played
and a resource to be monetarised
plagiarised and dominated,
alone.

all im wanting
is for us to be one thing
a beautiful new beast
with two minds and one heartbeat

i need to get away
go away stay away
burn the bridge
on the way away
to anywhere the other way
from the way
im on my way to going

writing beats and rhymes
at the same time
theyre both the same
in my eyes
always looking for the pattern
like a frame
to hang the words upon
or to surround them
in percussion
every word has place in time
replacing bass with lines
a scribe to my racing mind
the rhymes hi hat rise punctuating
the punching reverberating bass drum
kicking your brain in

every next time we meet
is the first time i see you
again

sometimes
talking to myself
is like talking to a brick wall
cant get any sense at all
from a man talking walking
the long walk
from a short pier
into the abyssal

we are all born a blank canvas
yet few become artists
most lay down their uniform lives
grateful to catch the drips

if the cost of a grown mans sanity
is the loss of the big kid inside me
then i dont want to play

got wabs from a lad
the scabs said its spot on
nice fat bags
with a little green leaf on em
scallys and their vanity
taggin themselves for taxin
easy backtrackin
you can almost hear the fingers snappin

tis a fine line
between darkness and sunshine
when youre in the shadows

youre filling my mind full of filling you full of me
i still cant decide if this is the buy of a lifetime
or a fools economy
im kicking the tyres looking for signs of a tired ride
selling itself as luxury
you could be mine for the one time price of just one good time
and the rest of my life with my ***** itchy

to rob a bank takes a criminal mastermind
someone on the inside
a plan how to hide all the money and the guilt beside
to have the banks rob a country needs a prime minister

imagine a world were we admit our fallibility
where ego is baseless
and we base our happiness
on happiness
wouldnt that be something
wouldnt it be something at least

freedom only exists
because we need it

followers
ive got followers
people follow me
jesus only had twelve
ive got forty three
even though half of them
are friends and family
im still averaging higher
messiah level quantity

theyre out there in the ether
patterns are repeated by definition
existence
cannot be an isolated incident

---

coincidentally mental efficiency
allows a nonsentient entity
such as the universal construct
our senses render perceptively
to assess its own state of entropy
thus rendering life necessary
though not necessarily anthropomorphically

what could i give you that would make you take me
take the risk of your heart breaking
make a list and ill start creating
a cathedral from my heart of stone

logical fallacy
caught in a malady
fighting his way out of a wet paper bag
you see cameron isnt a man of the people
no man is equal
hes the man you cant see through
opaque in a way the lucky few get to be
hiding behind their offshore identities
pulling the strings in a worldwide conspiracy
lurking in their murky puddle of deceit

black cats and beautiful women
when they cross paths
exchange shrewd looks and wry smiles
at their toll upon man

what fate is this that we cannot look away
from extreme beauty or extreme ugliness
yet we are blind to the majority inbetween

if yesterday
was your last tomorrow
what does that make today
while you are trying to decide
if you lived or died
your time is wasting away

I could tell from the faces
I passed on the streets
with their furtive sideways glances
up from the ground at their feet
that I was as different
as they were to me
an old scouser
in new manchester
is a very different beast

if i could
i wouldnt have to
that i cant
is why i must

when the inevitable comes
it is rarely as bad as the expectation
what does this tell us of death

there is a credibility gap
where your mouth is
the words coming out
are what a man says
from behind a mask
with his hands shaking
as he robs a bank
with a cucumber in a bin bag

often paths become sidetracks
the territory of your self is unmapped
destinations change
circumstance sets traps
on the way to end a life
life fights back

for we are as first born
most amongst equal
it shall be we who crack the sky
our voices raised for all people
we who may lay down our lives
so that all may thrive
in the world that we leave them

we should **** the ruling class in their beds
make no mistake
they would chop off our heads
if the roles were reversed
some quirks of fate interspersed
if they were as poor and if we were as blessed

i fear we are all born gods
for we have fallen far
our curse
our being here on earth
is a trial no mere mortal
can ever master
oh how mistress time
mocks our desires
as we try the futile
pitiful
to outlast her

what of the shapes
we dont see in the clouds
the things that are there
but not for our eyes
are they any less real
than those recognised
like the face of a friend
not seen in a long time

up n down
like the proverbial ****** drawers
servin hors doeuvres
to rich *****
bein rinsed by cheap escorts
hands raw
work eight days a week
to be paid for four
make much more
on her back were she as debauched
with the petite bourgeoisie
tucking in to her
as the main course

from a position of power
high atop their lofty towers
they expect us to cower
in their shadow is our darkest hour
meanwhile down in the trenches
guttersnipes fight over nighttime park benches
and the wretched fester
watching their masters gaining ever the better
fat cats get fatter
feeding on us as if taxes were rats
an unnatural disaster
caused by a ruling class to whom life doesnt matter

if I tell you I'm fine
I mostly mean I'm wearing thin
a fish on a line
fighting futility with the net closing in
caught in a bind
the knot biting into my skin
if it's all in the mind
why do the scars ache so much
I can feel them

judge the cover by the book
theres more inside the more you look
behind the eyes is where the best stuff is found
the stuff you cant touch
stuff like love and lust
the longing
to have something longer than a lifetime
could ever hope to have time enough