I wish to write a poem
About feelings of home
The plastic lice comb
Dressing in bath foam
I guess my childhood home
Is how i'll always think of home
I wish instead of Rome
All the roads would take me home

I'm sick of trying to be cool
I'm saying this to sound cool
I'll do almost anything for attention
I want to be better than you
Yes I do
Oo oo oooooo

Wham



       !




I'm not feeling so great about myself today ;()())

Deep in the mountains

Inside a cave

Sits an open chest


If you look inside it

You will find that it's empty


But it wasn't always that way


It used to to contain  a heart
..

That was before

It was given

Away

You are soo not attracted to me
Anyone can see
That you don't want me

I love you soo much
My heart was cursed by your touch

It can't be done
You can't be won

I need  to run to a place where my heart can't find me
Wherever that place may be

There is a scary lady that lives within me mama, I am usually unaware of her and forget she's even there until all of a sudden I sense her and I remember that I had forgotten all about her and it all comes back to me and then once again i forget mama that

Beetle juice and old rice
Doesn't that sound really nice?!

Roll over! Easy! Moreover! Morose!

Oh heeve heeve!
Roll up your sleeve!

Tilalila

Veem vam voom
Tricka Lica loom
Ha ta tume!
Vim vam voom

Oh my gosh!
I'm so stressed!
I need socks!
I need a dress!

I need *******!
I need a bra,
Because I've been borrowing from my ma...

I don't want to shop!
I'd rather borrow!
Can't it wait until tomorrow?

And then came the darkness
And the only thought that was was
When will the light run out
In the light of the tiny flame
panick ensued on the cold floor
And the cloaked figure seered
And couldn't see
In the presence of the monster
Which was not far
I dared not breath
I tried to stop my heart
But it was no use
Breath had to be drawn
Damm you, you smoothy brawn

I used to write that way
I used to feel that way
that was before

I started to fade
as the days whizz by me and start to blend into a fuzzy batter

And it comes to me
that I am old

so old

old, old,
so very,
old

I feel old

I loved you so much!
I only wanted the best for you
I never grew to resent you
I was never jealous

I watched you grow
You were this way when you were two, and then suddenly you were all different........Well,

Not all

And I mourned losing who you were then
But I delighted in discovering the new you


And then we parted
And I didn't know it,
or feel it
but it happened just the same...

And now when I see you, it's as though I am a stranger to you
But that is not how I see you,
Even though I know that you have gone through so much without me.
You must be very different now
but to me,
you are still you

and it pulls at my heart
because to me-
you are still the baby that I once knew,
and it's as though I still recognize your soul
but you don't know me anymore

And I have nothing for you but kind regard
and I would be sad if anything were to cause you pain,

And I hope that your story is a happy one
But I sense that you have already suffered as young as you are
and it troubles me

And you will never know
And the funny thing is
That it doesn't matter to me

well,
not much anyway

I drempt of all the wrong things.
I entertained all of the wrong fantasies.
I prioritized trivialities.

I prayed for the wrong things.
I asked all of the wrong questions.
I made bad choices.

I trusted the wrong people.
I believed in the wrong people.
I sold my soul.

I supported the wrong causes.
I worshiped the wrong gods.
I hurt people.

I threw away my pride.
I bit my tongue.
I bowed.

I thought that I was free.
I thought that I was working for myself.
But that couldn't have been father from the truth.

So, you are back!
Why did you leave me when I needed you soo much! Where were you then?!
Where were you when my despairing heart led me to seek help from any one who would answer?!
I will not surrender to your healing light, to the light with which you curess me now! It is decietful! You try to comfort me now, but if you were truly warm you would have come sooner! No, mother! You have made me too strong! Too hard! You put me out to dry for too long! And I cracked! Don't leave me! Please don't ever leave me! Why? Why?!

All my secrets, that I share with other people and the ones that are all my own.
Some times they resolve themselves, every once in a while they send me roses,
and now and then they run away, because they never intended or empathized.
My letters get lost in the mail and i am left to answer my own questions.
All these things happen to everyone I know, to couples and singles alike.
By I can imagine that you can imagine that something only I know. To you it is unclear and to me it's crystal but I spoke the unspoken alone.

Pounding on that darned Rickie Evans's door this early morn at half past four. That nut was racketing and was asking for a lick. I told him he better get quiet real quick. Then I stomped back bear footed across the floor I figured id'e feed thee old **** as I slammed me old door. But I discovered that thee **** wouldn't be needin a feedin no more.

Cantering to my prize with no time to devise I cater queerly to confabulate.
Courageous as concerning consonantly discerning the real cognitive carnation contrived by a nation- to cognitive dissociation freedom at the hands of
the behavioral disorder of cans.

If I had a penny for every sad person that I greet.
If I had the time for all the tired people on the street.
If I had the food for the people that don't eat.

If only I had had the courage to make them wait until you we're seated.
If only I had known you before you we're depleted.

If only the love was enough to conquer the hate.
If only we had known before it was too late.

The vague chateau sits atop the thoughtful house draped in the vine of disappointment which sits by the river side waiting promptly for it's appointment.

Up and down and all around the merry go round, in bleary tune town.
Great fatigue that turn's into lust, then the headache that simply "must".
Delight of the sugar fairy, think a thought that's way to scary and chase it away with a hail Mary, then you're back on the nightmary go round in what is now weary tune town.

My mommy has a black gun that she keeps in her black bag.
she has it to protect us she tells us with a drag.
Some times she takes it off and puts it on a high shelf.
A place where a little person can't reach it a person like my self.
Like Dorthy the only time she leaves it alone is when shes taking her bath.
And sometimes I think "maybe i'll take it" while she thinks that  i'm doing my math.
I'll introduce it to my temple and then i'll release it's wrath.

In a time before people, at the dawn of man kind.
"They" were brewing us, body and mind.

A  sprinkle of wit and a pinch of good luck.
"Please pass down the emotional muck".

Some of "they" were good at what they had to do.
Some of them less exact, careless in making our stew.

Going to the extremes was a favorite of a few.
And that is why Some of us are very blue.

"Ill throw in A pinch of zest and a bucketful of sorrow, and an
Annoying tendency to always want to borrow."

"My favorite recipe is: charisma, good looks and toxic waste"
"Ya know! The ones that usually attract the goodhearted that are keen to make haste"

"And my favorite one is for the ones always pursuing what isn't meant to be"
"The recipe calls for 2 tablespoons of ambition I think i'll put in three"

Such is the talk in their heavenly sphere
Perhaps things aren't all that different down here?

We have forgotten entire worlds and only remember those forever present
We have worked very hard and ventured very far and forgotten a lot of it
Many of the memories only surface when they're splashed with relevance
We found entire kingdoms but they melted away in the blink of an eye
We know many things and many stories that we cannot remember at all
We're forgetting epiphany's that we are having, and our found loved ones
Many many valuable memories are trapped in the corner of our eyes
And when we cry and don't know why it's because they are trying find us

I just saw a shooting star
Falling down from afar
The falling's entrancing
The vision's enhancing
They drop from nowhere
To nowhere
No mortar
No blast
Just falling
Dropping beauty
For a split second
Of eternity
A grace note
That gets lost
In nothing

The windows are barred, and the fire alarm is broken.
Perhaps these measures of safety, are merely a token.
Sent to stoke  careful ways, and to make  regular patrons.
The note that is in between the staves, is neither here nor there thus are the knaves.
They often play sinners and lure them in with promises, of the outlaws much craved solemnity, thus leading them to their graves.

I always thought that weeds where flowers, planted by the fairy folk.
And the thorns blunt daggers, a secret inner joke.
Left to taunt the ones that can remember dancing round the oak.

The garden's beauty's mocking, the maidens only half fair.
A memory left over from a time when no one would dare...

The garden pool's half empty, you're smile reflects a glare.
The garden's bird feeders are empty and every living creature must beware.

The garden is poisonous , the unicorns now a mare.
A shadow left over from a time cradled with care...

And every day is meaningless, and every thrones a broken chair.
The tower that you searched for your whole life begins to cave as you alight the very first stair.

Plunge once more into the darkness, find again your  sacred lull.
Their you'l find hail on fire, here you are your greatest foe.
Vicious madness comes to find you, echoing from down below.
"Come here darling come and find me?", it rings inside of your skull.
Kiss the darkness to combine you, unconscious and out of woe.

Floating in destitute from joy, with an abhorrence for all the vivacious living.
Making fastidious efforts that lead to naught, as life proves to be trying.
Her broken hands try to create but they cannot today, and the chances of it ever being are bleak.

A World of darkness, where we play games of light,
And shifting shadows fly phantom kites,
Terrifying planes and high heights, are balanced by
antic shamans of light.
Here left is left only sometimes left is right,
beware of the trickster hidden in the right

The cycle of fire is not as well known as the cycle of water
It is by far more demeaning, and it is not afraid of the dark
It will chase your shadow, and be the only reason it can be
The cycle of fire can find you, even when it isn't really there
It is in your dreams, it's in the walls, it's in the creak in the stair
It comes in dreams it comes in visions in your hopes and yearns
Although you can't remember you have the scars to remind you
Of it's burns

100 layers of wallpaper are pasted on this wall.
100 life times to peel away, glimpse and recall.

The first is pink shutters on windows with bars.
I think that this person must have had secret scars.

Then come race horses with numbers from one
to ten. I think "This looks like the room of a young Ben".

Next comes something that I think is from the 50's
or so : it's a laughing woman, with a red red hair bow.

Then brown flowers, and on the bottom left
written in Morse code it says S.O.S.

I stopped what I was doing I had to count to ten.
Then I fled from that room, never to return again.

Silence and sadness are not one
But laughter and tears can be
Hearts born to woe eat at others
Because they never had the chance to grow
he was
The contrast of a rainbow
he is
The light that used to glow

Jacob worked for fourteen years
Romeo gave his life and swallowed his tears
If we lived a long time ago in past years
Would you wear my favors and bring me a monsters ears?
For me would you overcome your greatest fears?

For everyone theirs a spot, weather there crazy or weather they're  not. They fool themselves they'll fool you and me oh yes they'r great at trickery.
Someone wants them to be, so they'll tell them okay and smile stickily.
They have no integrity, the truth won't set them free, they like it were they are, they're where they want to be.
Though they may lie and shout oppressed, between the two us it's just they're sickly little jest.

Beeting, thumping, taping
clickety , clockity , clapping.
quality quickens the
writhety rhythm  
the tapity
clapity
ra

A shadow less body
A projector of light
Anything can sink
All could be fright

We were told what is wrong and what is right.
Why play dumb?
Will reason only come with a fight?

Don't get to confident any ship can sink
Don't be idle don't run away by drink
Down we'll fall once we enter the rink

One two three, turn , one two three
The beat sends us on a dancing spree

But the melodic line does not continue   to shine
It glistens into a minor with a  sharp tine
we dance it back to the shinning tonic
because we must, this dance is mine

Nobody can take it away from me
tis the dance that set me free

A prisoner of earth that will never belong
A child that doesn't have wrong
And cannot talk  for thine  language is song

Silver, pink flowers
the maze roads
seeing a dream
a sound

I go out to breath, I inhale what cleanliness their is, my chest heaves
At this hour their is no sound but the  leaves
And so I am taken aback when I hear a birdsong,
The timid creature cautiously creeps out from under the eaves,
And I go to fetch a scrap of something for it, I hold out the crumbs to it on the palm of my hand and it teethes, then the bird fly's away and I sneeze, As I go on back to bed I suddenly cannot breath, My body fails me and I convulse and fall off the stair and break my knees, Oh for if only I had wings, I lay their crumpled up and pay my actions fees.

Some would trade anything for it, some would trade it for anything,
But the baby lives, and the baby cries unless someone  dares to bring it's demise, it lives on and learns to walk straight but like a pig fattened for slaughter it is pampered then left at an others gate, sent to prison for sixteen years at the mercy of others, perhaps for happiness but perhaps for tears,
The baby has done nothing wrong the child was only born

"Let me out" the figure in the painting calls
"Let me out of these one dimensional walls"

The figure of oil  let's out a sirenic drawl, that hypnotizes the starer
and makes him fall

nothing can hurt you but infinity is all

"How I love it when people fret, how I love the god of storm set"
"How I love that melancholy tune you play , it sings dark and wet, I am as dark as they come, you will never find a soul as black as mine, I bet"
"Come now what a terrible tune is that, so gay it makes me sweat?"
'It's an aria from a requiem originally a quartet'
'And that melancholy tune, is a minuet'

A smile for the frowners
A flower for the thorns
Only around the kind do you use your horns

The traveler has no home, the traveler is never sown, the travelers dearest companion is his pack, he only keeps what he can carry on his back.
No one want's to be the traveler, the traveler knows, except for the traveler  because the traveler knows that the tune that makes him travel is more precious then any home and he won't settle for anything less then his own.

a butterfly went out one day
it dropped a flower by the bay
as it went on , on its way the butterfly flew a stray and got caught in a spiders web  and lay their left to pray