Origin of life's hues,
wading through times
                         contemplations.
Her hair was a rainbow of
                            deliberation.

Every strand empathy of natures
                             yearning to grow.
Maturing  beyond the seed,
                                   reaching higher.
Rings  showing the marriage of
                                         life and growth.

Vitality was her yearning
for everything
             was her breath.
Mother to all that that walked
                          upon her creation.

I wasn't just that band aid,
          that was  going to heal
   you with faint kisses.

And peel off useless after I'd
                      been there a while.

My intentions were to
          rejuvenate our blemished  
   emotions.

And yes there will scars,
        but we'll heal together.

Every life is worth
              never having
a knee upon it...

Cant we all just stand tall,
    but honour those
with a knee who died
                                unjustly..

I had a path that at no time intersected
                            with others footsteps.
              Never would I walk on the
degradation of there choosing.

Because,
            if later on they had made a misstep.


I would ultimately be the lemming falling  
                                                with veins cut,
falling into the same inevitable ending...

Every footprint shifts after we have put
                       our weight on that decision.
That this was the right course of action...


             But we were a conveyor that feed
the lie of life that every step was always
                                                            well trod.

We would always finish off with a life well
      walked, but the truth was.
That some laces were untied and some fell.

Some would never reach the ending,
        let alone the beginning of the path..

For our steps are always shifting,
   and  everyone is never the same..

The only thing he was closed to was
             the bottle or his gun...
Caressing both gently as he lingered
on this chair..
He had thoughts of yesterday,
            The barrel still had that
         just used smell,
he sniffed the casing.

Smiling at the cold effortlessness
         for which he knew it was
going to be used once again.
As he leant back the front door opened,
             A gentleman strolled in,
turning his rooms dim lights on.
            Not even noticing me sitting
there, smiling as he walks past..
A head then pops back around.

The pistol pointing at his blank expression,
                I use the gun as a pointer showing,
him where to go.I can see in his eyes he want
to run, to do something stupid.

"Don't even think about it,
            as I wave the gun at him,
as I if I were gesturing him
                                               "No,

He sits there, calmly sweating.
              Eyes racing around his skull.
A hundred and one bad ideas of what to do...
But there is only one out come.
             Its ok, I tell him. if I were going to **** you,
I'd have put one in the back of skull outside when
you were concentrating on opening your front porch.

So we find ourselves in a predicament.

   My son found out about my past from you?
He's a version of  me, at a younger time.
But I wanted to bestow on him knowledge of
   my transgression at a moment of my choosing...

So when a parrot talks to much do you pluck its
feathers, or do you snap its neck?
       what you think!

What should I do, so many things my son now
                     thinks he knows...

Do we have an understanding here..

He nods in a hastily manner,

the next day I watch my son,
the **** of my heritage
                      go to the parrots cage,

He answers the door..

Words are spoken, Raised voices are spoken.
           Then the door slams in my sons face,
       he kicks the door,  
he has my temperament that kid.
As he drives off, I wait,
                  the parrot is flying the coop..

As he gets in to his car echoes bounce of the
surrounding as broken glass falls like broken
snow flakes. The interior now painted with
his mistake. Parrots should never talk...

I walk off, later finding my sons car.
     I smell the barrel, god that smell never
gets old.. putting it in his glove compartment.
     taking my gloves off I wonder in the house.
Asking him why there's a pistol in his car?
Running out he grabs it out, and now his prints
are on it.. lets see him betray his old man now..

You weren't vertical with your rhyme,
na brov you weren't a stand alone dime.
Throwing it in the air and landing face down,
  you now horizontal laughable like a clown.


But we ain't here to watch you blow up,
more like deflate, claiming this was a set up.
Tripping over your words like a stuttering
      F.. ***… k you... and there's ya muttering...

No one follows you, more like your wife walking
out on the embarrassment, **** blocking
you as she got an itch that wasn't seven years,
more like size matters and yours were in arrears.

Look I don't want to put you down, I want to hit
you so hard you feel it in the next life. Llease quit
cos you haven't got what it takes to spit lyrics
you have dry mouth, your words are you own critics.

My Crystal *****
  never say that kick
coming....

Now when I look at them,
        there is a hue of
            bruised reflection.
that sometimes the future
is hidden from my sight..

And when I try to look at them
        I just see my past mistakes..