I am a grave poetic hen
That lays poetic eggs
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.

We make the yolk philosophy,
True beauty the albumen.
And then gum on a shell of form
To make the screed sound human.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about your old nose,
The one you cut apart and remolded,
So you could feel beautiful.

There used to be that little bump along the bridge,
The tip wiggled slightly when you laughed,
Now it just sits there.

Today your daughter has your old wiggly nose,
And she looks just like you,
Used to.

I hope that she appreciates it more than you did,
And I hope it reminds her every day,
That she’s beautiful

Why take the chance
To ask her to dance
When you know she's a cold hearted *****

She'll take all you've got
Leave you with naught
And laugh as she walks out the door

Because to her it's a game
And you're one and the same
As all of those begging for more

So why take the chance
To ask her to dance
When the ending is already known

You end up dead
In the heart and the head
And desperately all alone

So don't take the chance
For once skip this dance
And leave that soulless ***** to her own

You won't catch me – while running through the rye
I've got nothing to lose - only everything to gain

Maybe I'll end up in miles of traffic waiting for the lights to turn
Like a yellow ladybird, waiting for the red light so to leave
The daily grunt and anxiety of simply going from A to B
My stomach churning at the thought of such a terrific possibility

Alternatively, away from the city, there's the sea.
I do always hold I was a French sailor in a past live.
Even though I've never been to the Côte d'Azur
I'm sure I could find a second home there

But I’ve never doubted the fact I do like my hometown
Could I really sway away from Bray?
I’ve never been down when walking along stony beach
Or over the Dargle at night, swans floating about without care

Learning is synonymous with Leaving
If I am to strive in this life maybe I need a push
To drive myself from my comforts
And feel that rush upon discovery one’s worth
In living than mere surviving.

Although I must admit, this poem is full of ****
These ramblings of single stream of thought
Not dreams per say as I am aware that
They do tear at the seam and unravel quite brilliantly.

No, this is not my dreams and hopes
Or some sad reality check
About how tempting the rope can be
Or what can be done before one is dead

No, these words are quite frankly, just words
They represent my world at this present time
What one can find on my mind
Nothing more, nothing less

There is danger that tomorrow
It could all change
Stranger still, it could all remain the same.

Still with all this said ---

You won't catch me - while running through the rye
I've got nothing to lose - only everything to gain

Oh how everything
Was in my power
I never felt negative
About my presence
Songs got me through
Anything everything
Now it's not the same

My heart was true,
So true, but now it's blue.
You left
Without a saying word.
It beats
All I ever heard.
You treated
Me like a clown.
Now, your gone.
So, you're gone for good.
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
No.
No. No, oh!
Don't even think
About comin' back around.

My fate was cruel,
So cruel, cause I loved you.
You lied,
When you said you'd stay.
I cried,
When you went away.
Must-a took me
For a fool.
But, you're wrong.
Yes, you're gone for good.
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
No.
No. No-oh!
Don't even think
About comin' back around.

If your thinking bout coming my way,
You'd better think again
Cause once love has strayed,
There's no way to rebuilt the past
From your wreck of lies.
I see the truth, at last.

Oh, you took me
For some kind of fool,
But, you're wrong.
Yes, you're gone for good.
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
No.
No, No-oh!
Don't even think
About comin' back around.