Just sittin' trying to find my rift
how many more times are you going to mess my life
spend all my money
******* with my mind
playing with my head
turning down my bed
some day's my pen
I hate you
and yet I pen on
see how the ink bleeds
and I feel lonesome
see how my heart bleeds
yet you will not write that down

What the F**k
what the ******* bad luck

looking for some rhyme or reason

WHY this should be.

That is me
Y
E
S
thought of both
within
the
word
global.

The narrative
hesitated
on
his lips
then came out
"I have just about reached breaking point"
"HE  SNAPPED".

You think
you have problems
come and try my
limp wristed head
the words go in
but do not come out right
some days
I think
is does not know left from right
on the other hand
maybe that's just me
think much to much
into it
maybe
not knowing when to stop
and just rest

My limp, wristed head.

Do not call my name into    I feel    the night
for that does not become you
Did you hear mother call      you
did you hear father calling you into   the    night
I feel I have past that by
and now have grown
to a place where my mistakes are my own
and my past has become my own
and that is going back to the people the ones   I   know
and do you   know                It's           YOU...

I look into your eyes
I sware, I can see your soul
it feels bright like all colours
well all the colour that my mind now knows
but brighter than that
some how irridicent
almost see through
but somehow I know thats you
written right there
and my heart sings.

"Sorry lift my card at home,"

"If your late again, the supervisor"
"said we are going to put you on to daily signing"!

"sorry but I am only 18 teen"


THE    ST O RY    BE  H I N D  THiS   e POEM.
It was about that time, I started to smoke
and now at 60
just came to my mind I should *stop
so took up eCigarettes to help my off*
if your thinking that, behave yourself.
so here we go
]
\
]
\
!


ePoem.
This a poem within my own surrealist head
safe to read in mixed company
no second hand words
will put no smell on your breath
or your clothes
so you can read it out loud and clear
to girlfriends read to all mine
which I can count on one hand
life is pleasure
with all one of you
so as you read this, you should know
although late in life
I am surreally looking after myself.





]
\
]
\
!

TRUE    STORY   P@ul.

Two hour later
came back
with my new nana tech
well magic dust.
now with dust in my head
and my bones rebuilding me
feeling like it real is a new day
think I might
just pop up the shops.

Thinking of
having a garden party
yes you can come
all welcome
the more the Merrier
O' and by the way
bring your own *****
lots of digging to be done
way far out MAN!

Just DIGGIN that!

I love words.
It is that words just do not like me.
They come in stay with me.
But if I call on them.
I see them no more.

But I still like words.
Words are like sand.
They can so dance around.
Page can tell of her hell.
Be this be that.

Can you teach an old dog new tricks?

Like most
I take a note
of things
I must do list
but now I am really ****
for I can not find it.

What street do you live in
not even a toe
and that's why women do play harmonica
not found one yet.

Yes thats my type
could be this way or that
third layer of type
dreams are there inbitween
the inside of head
bouncing off the skull
almost stereo
left nore right
they are the thoughts
me myself
just ******* me
look at my eyes
back in the room
yes my eyes are blue
my knees hurt
standing to long
my left hand
and the right did nothing
nothing at all
not even a ****.

When I walk
the hills seam bigger
than I remember
and they shout back at me
MAN YOU ARE GETing OLD
BUT
MY MIND
in time seam just to grow
that's all right with me
just bothers the people around me
as i now make puffing sounds
bet I beat them all when it comes to ROCK & ROLL.

Woman you tried to to hold me down
and control me, but being me
that was not what I am about
woman not knowing me
was what set you free
from all the pain you felt.

You are coming into my room
has no door handles
but has a word
the password
and you are welcome
to all my mind
there within to see
which is not always me
but makes me think about myself
making me a better person
than I was before
well I am always hopeful
mind the step
do not walk through the paint
that pops from the blisters of my brain
colouring the flowers
the pinks and hues
and bright yellows snow
that when a burst
drips into my mind
giving me all sorts of surrealist dreams
painting all my words
and yours
well you did not have to come in
take the lift
no farting
for that is wrong on all levels
and we are going to 98.6
please no smells
squeeze your buttocks in
hold the gasses in
they are for you
and not others
if you explode
then thank you for coming in.

Have a Fab day.

Mya
Joanne
Patricia
Cindy Lou
Please tell me do
What is the colour of     L  O  V  E?

Surreal Poam
By P@ul.


you are the most exstrawdanarirey person
and I am just me

you might be it seams
dyslexic
Oooo Ooooh
just like me

Hi Hi welcome
you be you and I will be me
how are you?

P@ul
used to
as a kid
play with lego
then
space got into his mind
played with fire
blew things up
shot thing
space ward
found art
under pages of paper
played guitar
till his own desire exploded
started into advertising
became
very good at
got married
had two beautiful girls
whom he still loves
after his wife went of with another
none of it he regrets
never normal
M E.

play your guitar
please man bring me to tears
for I so feel bad
see she plays with my head
and I just want to feel happy
how little she knows.

I am Paul
Means nothing 'at ALL
But that is me
just for, you if you are, the girl
of my drams.

Yes I am triping
my mother said
always wear protection
so I always leave my socks and gloves on
has to be a news day
in a restaurant
ask the man
where are the toilets
he said just go down the stair
saw a sign on my way home
said falling rocks
what am I to do with that
life is a lottery be lucky
walked past my local Indian
sign says
try our curries
your never get better!



Love P@ul.

I
hope
my
leaving
is
not
sad
for
I
go>> >> >>>   >>>  >>>>    >>>>>>>.

Learnt today
if you **** in a lift
it's wrong on all leavels.

But man such a gas!

I told you how I dream of you.
I told you how much I liked your sun kissed hair.
I told you how at times. I feel I am not right for you.

You just look at me with those deep brown eye's.


                                                                            THINGS WILL CHANGE.


I Say!
Well I say, I told you.

The internet seams to think
it has a right now so to do
and send me so much junk mail
for I am male in my own right
and did not want surgery on my hips
or some plastic insert
that would spoil the look of my shirts
or become a nurse
man there heads are not on right
so stop sending my this junk ****
and mailers get a life.

P@ul.

Can they dream at all?
or would a surrealists dreams be in 3D
maybe hand touched textures
that they feel can hold and touch in there minds dream
maybe scents that they smell with there brains
so take care of your heads
and that remines me of a thing my Dad once said
if you want the get a hat
then get ahead.