I've seen...
Many an egg dropped by the proverbial hen
then egg becomes number through paper and pen
then greed facilitates the perpetrators of this
with ample incentive to young girls a kiss.

Then kiss unexpectedly leads to *******
and the greedy ******* end with a non-legit son
many of the girlies will attempt abortion
but a few will not do as the ******* tell them.

So the son soon and swiftly becomes an anomaly
while it's elder brother says to daddy "are you proud of me"
the oxbridge acceptance letter filled him up with glee
but the dad knows secretly it's all to do with money.

So the half witted son takes up the mantle of the father
as senility and guilt have finally gripped the latter
the son through drugs and experimentation is madder
his social status dictates,
he'll always climb the ladder.

A few years pass, we're in different situation
the son of senility has got grip o' the nation
shaking wretched and archaic crumbling foundations,
he's shaking the **** all over his poorer realtion.

But the overgrown man-child doesn't know,
that since he took power his brother sits in the cold,
that with all the food he eats, he chews it real slow,
so he can have food for longer, fill that hole.

But does it make it all right at once,
cuz he claims ignorance
or should the people at the top
be people from the bottom,
the ones who looked up,
but got nothing but trod on.

It's impossible to relate,
when you all dissipate,
when your middle class darling,
has a working class date.

So the ******* child doesn't vote,
through bedroom tax lost his home,
Senile son?  Victory of note
fake promises in the matriarchal dome.

Apathy strikes again,
this ****'s impossible to defend,
how can we justify not getting off our *****?
not doing something about all this in the masses?
oh yeah, that's right
although barely know the people at the top,
We've all seen their soles as they've trod on our lots

I’m…
Sitting in my flat,
To my couch I am thatched,
Kyle’s yelling,
He keeps telling,
Me to,
Get a job,
Like walk straight into one,
I get slightly indignant,
That it’s easier said than done,
He points it out,
So his main demographic
Don’t switch off en-masse,
Ending his quasi-infographic
Combination of hot air and bad gas
Mr. Kyle’s relatable,
He makes an effort
So unlike certain Eton educated conservative western capitalistic illuminati slaves,
He’s not hateable.

SO, my now easily distracted mind turns to Mr.C,
The way his policies A.K.A BEDROOM TAX negatively impact me
The way he forces me into obvious and obnoxious modern day slavery
Through way of a work programme
How he has decided that I need to experience real life life,
Through legislation and universal credit,
Credible implication to make the poorest poorer because they have the gall to spend it

SO my rhyming thought full of tangents
Must now come to end
As the tangent I have accomplished
Is impossible to defend.

I'm waiting for the train.
Its a really lovely day.
Theres a rainbow in the sky,
like sugar for my eyes.
The air is nicely crisp,
healing my cracked lips.
But over the hills hails a dark cloud,
a gauntlet called out aloud.
The train will now be departing at 9:22,
now what the **** am I supposed to do?
The weather gets slightly colder,
the rainbow gets bolder,
goes from rainbow to rain blowing.
The anger in me starts showing.
My lips are in agony,
my hands buried in either side of me.
And just as a raindrop hits me in the eye,
the train shows up,
at 10:05

Slowly decaying,
under no pressure,
time will pass,
without measure.

In a box,
alone with love,
future fleeting,
for all to see.

By the wayside,
across the bay,
people few,
none can save.

Time to end,
as false life beckons,
Poets lone,
langauge lessens.

How I am injured,
at the sanctity of man,.
How are we hindered,
by the rarity, we can

We see a light,
corrupted by us,
we need a brighter slight,
where sacredness is a must.

Rarely it's seen,
a man living by his dreams,
liars abundant,
but never the dreams.

Feeling like syrup,
Stretched over so many feet,
Little holes present,
Stays together,
Holy Feat.

Lacking the security of a plait,
with violation of pecans,
Pastry slammed flat
By a siren call beacon.

Useless and stale,
Sickly and game,
Fermented and Pale,
Repugant the same,
A shelf life to fail.

Don't you miss the days when we were all skinny,
before we got fat and then we got needy,
When we breathed in chill and rotated in relax,
we lounged on our coffers to wait it and pass.

Found a new career
Monetary delight
Bringing up the fear
Each and every night

Got home at Breakfast time
But still haven't had some tea
Skip it for a long haul climb
To collapse for addictive sleep

Woke up early in the evening
Eyes shades of purple, brown and grey
This sense of helpless is weaving
From horrid night into day

Peppy talk in florescent
White wiping out the time
Trying to hear the lesson
Helpless on the spine.

I had dream
Not dull as it seems
Where a woman had fallen
Amongst the dying leaves

As she sat across from me
She held across the seat
Her hand
Bruised, broken and heartbreakingly petite.
So I gently lift her hand
Lay it in my own
Then massage it all away
The burning and the cold.

She turned to me and said
As the bell rang once again
"You have healed my hand,
But what about my heart ?"

Then my wakefulness regained
I had to lay and wait
For the meaning to remain.

I don't find a need for
Love anymore.
The intricacies and conundrums
Are quite a bore.
The long train of thought
Feelings I am taught
I can't find a use for
Love anymore.

Fishy Fin

Alone beside crimson
Destiny exclusively found
Gore has income
Jealous king lounged
Marred nightly often
Putrid, quite rotten
Saved timely use
Voracious with xenia
Yearning Zeus.

Feels like lately
My life's going to hell in a hand basket
Inferno blazing out of control
I've tried but I can't fight it.
Steadily dying
I'm so sick of trying
Pour butane on my life
Then light it.

I see your colours
bending in the breeze
Laying underneath
It's with surprising eas
That we quasi breed

Working on my timing
'Cause my flaws tell you
Of a life I thought I forgot
It seems like your residing
Don't make me something I'm not
Don't make me another one lost
Light the wood match
Then drop it.

I see your colours
bending in the breeze
Laying here with me
Reaking treachery
You're never gonna see.

I'm guessing at hearsay
Clutching at myth
Believing all lies
As the truth becomes a wisp.
Begging for the truth
While spending all my youth.
Watch me burn away
Forget it.

A lyrically challenged man
Easily falls from grace
His irritable ******* up face
Sets him back into his place.

One two and three
When the beat goes to four
Writes but doesn't speak
The synapses being sore.
Types but doesn't see
Obvious blatant cure.

This thing you do
You will see
Is no dried out chore
No academic,
Epidemic
Seething
Breeding
Horde.
If you look
A little closer
You might even see
The delights and wonders
That words create
For each
And you
And me!

But hold on
Never mind
All your love is gone
Through learned men
And lesser men
You have lost your lord
Without a love
For these words
You can now forget
to ever be stood
In front of a crowd
Without the stutter being stirred.


The man teaches us a singular thing

Write and don't believe
You'll be stutter ridden
Write for what you seek
Then you'll be forgiven

A lyrically challenged man
Forgot his own way
It never went to plan
His rhymes in decay.

This is a pen to paper
Freestyle
Excuse me but I haven't done this
In a while.
The transfer of rhymes to paper from the brain
These things I say are done my own way.

A lyrically challenged man
Easily falls from grace
His beat to the beep to the bam
Goes slow at his own challenged pace.

Tearing apart rhymes
Into a gory mess
Analysing the times
Academic detest.
Gonna slow this down
As its getting easy to lounge
Gonna full stop
Before eloquentcy is lost.

"Farty Face"
"Burpy ***"
Will never waste
an ounce of love.

Hot snot
and bogey pie
his children are
the apple of his eye.

There's a hole in my bucket
Dear Liza
All that have met
come off much the wiser

Chicken Curry
****** Up
Minced Meat and mash
Come on better hurry
gotta speed up
We don't need lots of cash
to enjoy this michelin starred grub.

Head pain and ugly,
World movement too,
The insatiable slug thee,
Manifests between two.

Lounge lay and eat,
The extent of the life,
Scrounge play and bleat,
You're not the only one,
So revel in this life,
A resplendent underclass,
Make bankers and beauracrats,
Pay it through the
Glass ?

Is one proud of this half life one lives ?
Radiation dwindling in 30 to 10,
To be in rain with freedom to squat,
Looking in strangers for compassion,
When all you deserve,
Is a sound good lashing.

Hide away from your responsibility,
No entry on response,
Forgotten all ability,
Ability all lost,
Based on  acidity.

Face all edited,
The preservation of youth did not preserve your face,
The resignation of you,
Did not delay fate

Twenty one again,
Rapidly running out of time,
I'll start again and then,
New beginnings will be mine.

Possibility shall be endless,
Youth and potential would engulf us,
The warm red soul would pump,
Through our veins,
Making our ideas lie to be believed.

Oh how I wish I could taste it again,
The love and freedom that made enemies our friends,
The purity and solace and made new things amend.

But such is the wish of a rich man,
A man rich with poverty,
Such is the one of a people,
One that's lost to me.

Love is always around us all,
As abstract as it js,
We live and breathe it,
Venerate and give it,
And exist within it's thrall

We feel when looking in the sky,
Or sat tentatively in a city street,
When we pick up the phone,
or with relatives we do meet.

When violinist does raise his bow,
When we exhale our opinions,
Breathe out soul.

Love is simply all this this,
Maybe so much more,,
But in consideration to make a rich man poor,
To make happiness blind,
And successful times sore,
Love is the door.

When the smallest child,
Picks from a tree,
Does he think,
This is what I shall be?

Does he make,
a decision there,
To forever eat,
A juicy pear ?

Or does he take,
A forsaken route,
Pick from it,
A more forbidden fruit ?

Perhaps the boy,
Had always wanted,
The piece of truth,
He always wanted.

Heaven has fallen,
The angels are bawling,
God is cremated,
Jesus is hated,
His throne surrounded by bottles.

Lucifer rots,
His evil blood clots,
Hell freezes solid
The mouth growing squalid,
Where blue lips doth mottle.


The humans in the middle
Intellectually twiddle
Twaddle their minds
Waiting for times
Eras that will not come
Prophecies undone.

The rapture was never,
The primates glimpse forever,
But alas, once again,
The apes now turn,
Deeply fearing death,
To the lies
Religious yearn.

So slow,
Time wasting,
Time gone,
None left.

No one to know,
No dreams,
No hope
Or self.

I hate you now,
I see you dead,
You incompetent creature,
This MUST be said.
******* of a coward,
Being of a snob,
Just know this,
You will not...

Corrupt
Maim
Or poison me.
Anger
Change
Or fault me
Because
I’ll get you first,
You....
My clipped winged dove.

The lady,
She is wise,
Rosy,
Complies,
Cosy,
But good god,
The lady is dozy.

She eats with her hands,
Her humour is bland,
Her laughter is canned,
Her emotion is ham.

Excuse me

The lady,
She is neat,
Friendly,
Meek,
Heady,
But my lord,
The woman's deadly.

She tends to ride side saddle,
Floats without a paddle,
She often will straddle
All that will addle.

But alas,

Though the lady has dangers,
Needs warning of strangers,
The lady has conquered,
The art of my heart.

An empty shell
That is what we are.
Soulless, chaotic and scratchy,
An end without a start.

Impossible to prove this so,
Impossible to prove otherwise,
Impossible to reap this sow,
Impossible to see through the eyes.

At an impasse of life,
A conundrum of creation,
At an instance of hopes,
Realisation jubilation.

Do you understand me ?
Do you feel the way that I see ?
Do you understand love and peace and prosperity ?
ABC's and quasi bravery ?

Is your life centric around a certain sense of chaos ?
Mindless, cajoling with an ironic sense of pathos,
Pathetic and burning without any sort of love
Deeming yourself worthy of loving from above.
Knowing that winging your a lame winged dove,
Holding yourself backwards with a half lazy cuff.

You don't relate,
For you I grate
Writing down all this
I don't want to think anymore
My weariness is overwhelming,
Though though I hate it,
I find the process calming.
****, um, yeah
The end.

I can feel it burning,
it's sat inanimate in my hands,
with my hands I'm turning,
trying to exert some life.

It's intricately strewn there,
nearly opaque and bland,
hardly seems unfair
that this curse has fell.

With a scent repugnant
it exerts itself entirely
into another psyche
to destroy their front.