For the seeds were woven yet nothing grew,
                                  that which watched above


sewing the earth with salty tears,
                  for he had asked for the
first woman to seed..


                             And the father
said No.......

You shall not seed fields that aren't  yours.

She is no Mary,
     you will not be an illegitimate
father to my child woven in the
             cloth of forsaken love.


They were a unity of forever.
   Your just a passing thought
to the illegitimate
consequences of fate.

And look where that got you....

There are no fields to sew,
   for your fruit is inedible

            to the palette of humanity....


The nature of you fruit is woeful,
         and your nourishment is


toxic to the substance of our fruition.

If we were exact copies we would find the faults
                                                      that­ make us un-unique..
For some would have a mole in a certain place.
                      Unclean to the others who view
themselves as a perfection of ignorance....

We must all be different to realise that perfection
                    is found in the intricate imperfections

of evolution.

Our faults are what makes
                                    every living thing outstanding,

as were a creation of random fluidity
                                   that makes us no better than those before us,
now, or those who are born
             before our fading
                      of our unique imprint on this pebble.

We all a grain that makes a mark no matter
             our finite moment in this ocean



of finite waves...

I was there floating, collapsing in every direction.
Couldn't gather my barning's. I was a compass lost
                    in the waves of eternities disorientation.

I saw her burn, a billion souls screaming in devouring
regrets that spread like a silent blanket.
Smoothing, asphyxiating every blossom, there life
                            expelled to the wind of  meaningless
teardrops that drenched every corner of this apple.

Now glazed in a hue of ill tasting caramel dust..
      We looked down in disturbance.
But a friend who i'd called a friend, mate.

                Looked at us all, a compass of many
lands who worked together for a better after.
This wasn't a time, a tomorrow. to them it was
Already a shockwave of repercussions..

     This egg shell, cracked silently..
In in this vacuum nothing is collected only vacated
at a velocity of collapsed colours petrified.

I was the last human, in the universe that never heard
        a light blown out by the wind of a billion suns..

We were bright for a moment,
            but we faded just as fast.
           My windshield was cracked,
and my oxygen was leaking like
                    flat tire.

Looking down I pondered if we survived
                 our stupidity...

And just like that, I was in a head on with
                 reality and space...
        My windshield was gone,

I was on the bonnet of purgatory..

You were,
               we are

A memory.


       Now in the recycle bin


and I just emptied all..


We'll always have.....


                   Who were you again..

I'm a broken piano
             missing keys..

But if doesn't matter what
            I lack I'll evolve
myself to play without
    
             the necessity of what
others use and make more of
            what i have rather

than what I don't and my symphony

           will be one to  astound
the sensibility of all who listen to it.

You weaponised me,
         made me the bullet
from the barrel of your

                                    mouth..

For when ever you shot off,
           I was the muzzle flash..

And any one you took aim at.
        was always left
blooded
         by your random shots...

My knuckles still hurt..