My little  fishes
  Will one day leave
There bowl.

And swim in
   The ocean of life.

Beware the sharks
            My little fishes.

If stones where tears,
Then I would be a
     Tombstone of sorrows.
Gathering  beyond
             my standing

We should never
bribe death,
       for this is a futile gesture.

We should pay life
       its dues,
      and live every breath we paid for.

When the red petals fell
        Every field
                  shall fall silent.

For in those meadows,
                the wisps of the past
stand over the fallen.

Head held down,
       on bended knee.
   A remembrance if yesterday.

Every eleventh hour
       does an eleventh
                           minute fall.

And we remember
that freedom is sometimes
             paid in innocent blood

We live in silence for two moments,
for those who fell silent long ago.

For there sacrifice is  every breath
Where now  gifted with today.

Every name is woven in the fabric
Of our lives, never to forget the past.

When red petals fell, and so many
Did, there was silence for moments.

The past is a tribute and a lesson of
what must be learnt and not repeated.

The only time I went down
on a knee was to look up
                   and say baby be mine.
She said I do..

None of us should
           bend a knee
to another unless
that is the one.

All others can have
there inferiority complex!
Keep in the shelf marked
                I don't give two *****..

Never expect to lower than
another.
        Stand tall,
        and see yourself at equal length.
Doesn't matter who you are,
   no other is better than you
                        or you than another.

The only time I went down
on a knee was to look up
                   and say baby be mine.
She said I do..

But ill never grovel
                   before another,
My knee was one time thing.
I'm no better than you,
    We'll all stand tall next to each other

My mother she was one with palms pressed
                                                Asking for help..
Help to feed us,
Help to keep her afloat.

You listened, wait what was that?
                                     you didn't...
Na you played her, used her trust
in you like a torment, she looked to
the heavens and all you gave was hell..

Men were  less than what she saw,
but always too late.
            Married in your place
                                         of every prayer.
But you just kept knocking her down there.

Last time I went to church was
                    because there was free chocolate.
You see with me, my mother grasped  at
straws. She went from one form of you
to another like a ****** clinging to a new fix.

But you were just like before, same old ****,
                 different day...
I knew long before you weren't one to be trusted?
Why you ask? Because there where ones before you..
                      I read your book in the fantasy section.
This thing needed a
                    
                           Parental Guidance Sticker.

Some contorted morals, thrown in with what
                  can be only described as a  WFT's.
I knew that those at these places of worship
                   peddling there own version of this god..
Didn't believe there own words, so why the hell
would I be gullible enough to be a sheep in there world.

The last time I went to church,
                                         was for free chocolate.
                                    The last time she went was in a coffin..

Sleeping rough
like a leaf blowing
across the pavement.
          never knowing
where I'll settle
before the breeze
of others discontent,
    brushes me from
my resting place.

I wonder like a cloud,
never stopping
                  in one place.
I'll never rain down,
all that's kept inside.
I'll never have  
           a sliver lining.
Just one with hues
of regret, of better times.


You can hear
the rustling
plastic sheeting.
The breeze is light here,
We can stay
                for a little while.


Leaves fallen
             from the tree
will never be still.
Ever moving,
               Ever restless.
When will we again
see from a higher elevation
other than below there feet
crumpled up like a fallen leaves.

Corrosive petals lingering on stems
                              of faltering breath.
For the air smells sweet,
underneath the carcass of pollen.

Three words held in masks
                        of suffocation.

Innocence stands there,
         would you like to smell
                              our flowers.

Hollow eyes, hiding smiles
            within breathless voids.
They pick them for the scent of death
is always sweetest before the demise.

Telling me to pick a card,
    always giving her mine.
                
                Stealing my heart.

I never was a full deck after that.

The eternal strings play
as crows feathers
                  fall like tears.

But alas,
               these will never dry
seeding the clouds with grey.

Every melody is a line of life,
now serenading stone words.

A sunset caressing
chiselled days, years,
                       then nothingness.

Upon a wooden box,
               a crow sings tears
that form on the strings of
      yesterdays now played.

          The future is barren of you.

A penny on the floor,
          costing more than life.
          For those who pick up luck
          
have run out tonight.

A penny on the floor,
            where others shoes now
            collect before curious gazes.

                            its cold out tonight.

A penny on the floor,
            the last thing you see,
                     is it heads or tails.
                
       The breath of another falling.


Curiosity is never a gift when its obvious.
                For a penny is never fallen in jest.
                              every one cost something.

Tonight its your life,
Tonight its your life,
Tonight its your life.....

Blended with the womb of obscurity,
              barbed voices silently whisper
behind hairs crawling slowly upwards.

Never realising that the contour of your
           silhouette wasn't yours after your
                        corner step, wavering slightly.

It now lays limp, discarded like soiled rags.
                  That which beckons beneath you,
            staring focused on your every breath.

And with but a fluttering of exhalation a light
                         stutters and you fall into a pool
                                           of hollow nothingness.

A stain outlines your last breath,
                    you where already drowning.
                   Not realising you where already dead.

Friend zone hardships,
never seeing through the eyes
that gaze with admiration
that you where always there.


                But never in the place
                                      intended.

A side line referee, holding hands
             but giving red cards to those
             who foul up her heart with tears.


Lovers will *** and go, but a friendship
                     of mutual feelings that's never going
                                                              to be  strained.

As this is one place they'll stay, for love is endless.
                              When the friendzone is sat upon,
                                           its just a different respect.

Never wavering over time,
                     you'll always have one another's back,  
                     no matter the others pain your always friends.

We must be the Shepheard of our thoughts.

And the only sheep to follow us,
are our deliberations,
that we collect the wool
                  of contemplation from.

For no man should follow another,
          be less than what his worth is.


                           Only side by side are we all equal.

We cry.
We gather a pool
              in our hands.

But then,

We look deeply,
and see the reflection  
           of our stronger self.

When all the trees are but
                  paper notes in a vault.

What will be the riches of man.

Where shall he beg for one more leaf.

Shall he look hollow when he cries
              gasping for breaths of regret..

To lose a laugh
          when the
          world needed one..

Where a grin
             reminisces,
             but now holds a frown.

But even when
           the eyes look down,
           a word can bring us back around.

Your words are cheesy
        Like an unclean *******

Every syllable you tug on
        Is like cheese.

You need to clean up
            Your stiffness
And write cleanly...

Within every pen
                       Stroke
Lies a formation
                Of emotion.

That differs with every
Moment
                 it silhouettes
On the page.

Every breath is a diamond.

     For without the gleam
of every one..
the beauty of life would be dull.

A word can save
another day
           for someone to see the
brightest side of the darkness.

For within syllables
                      are meanings
that unconsciously re-ravel
              that last thread.

And they awake to another
                                  day.
not realising that single word
  yesterday brightened there day.

My hood was
            my graveyard...

They'll not remember me,
               as bones feed roses...

I jested,
           then you showed
           me your point.

Bleeding sarcasm,
               I died with a smile
on your face.

Eating every petal,
tasting falsehoods
               of what they meant.

Every thorn crushed in
our last meal,
           hoping shards
cut deeply on the misconstrued
                 hope you would ******* pain.

Why did you let it carry on so long,
knowing it was the corrupted wrong
                                                     of love.
Not was meant to be shown the way
it collected on a pillow of white sorrows.

What should of happened!!!
      Grabbing that toy next to you,
jagged part lunged into  a jugular
  of his regret. No sorrow only his
flooding over me..  
                            and I smile its over.

But in reality I took the beating of his
                                 inconsistent rage....
If words were weapons I'd have given
                  him two hollow points to the chest.

But I was young, innocent for so long...
                  Trauma buried till tracks bled my pain.
            Misunderstood stones swallowed in a pool
                            that I wanted to drown silently in.


I awoke years later knowing I wasn't the
                            tool of his anger, just a vessel
                                                to put pain upon.
Sorrow made me stronger than even I knew.

More than yesterday, Im stronger not weaker
than when I was innocent. I hold no jest..
The past is a reflection and mine shines brighter.

The Petals that had to grow
through the poverty of life's
                        oncrete hardship.

Never looking below the infertile
          words that never gave it the
          time to breath. To reach what
was before it, breaking before its hardships.

They thought we were weeds, cracking through
             afflictions that never showed our beauty.

Adolescent roots never showing the potential.
                  But as we grew, we flourished before you.
We showed our worth, blooming before the haters,
              shining beneath the blandness of yesterday.


But now where showing colours beneath us dull.
                        Were unlike the reality that was expected.
Showing that when there is weight upon us we
can still grow and show where more that what was below.

Treading on the fallen echoes
                      of silence that no
                   longer tread on the
              ground, only imprints
             of what was yesterday.

There was a stead, rag and bones
                      showing its last gasp.
                         falling silent before
                         its unrested silence.
Now white tombs show its resting.



Nothing else matters,
                only the wind sings between
                its memory, chimes of agony
                through hollow moments now
                remember its cruel resting place.

She said he was to down to earth,
that she could never see the stars
                        beneath his staring.

"Am I not grounded enough?
        do you wish to gaze deeper
              than even I can look into..

Would you want to reach the heavens,
to see how many glimmers float deep
       within every blinking of my sight.

"She pondered his question,

If you can make me see the universe
entwined within every look
                                        you give me.
                              I'll be yours forever.

So days past upon his gaze, not at her!
            but the fulfilment of her wishes.
And with that, he brought out his gesture
                                 of making her see stars.


"Strap this on yourself!

But is this not just a rocket?
        will I not leave your side.


Never would I let us part,
       you will only be above my gaze.
my eyes steering you, no longer grounded.

With a twinkle in his eye he gazed at her,
   "I see the stars gleaming in your eyes.
    "You are no longer grounded to.....

And without a word the rocket shot off.
        hearing her faint words.. I was wro…

With that a shower of sparks erupted,
         in the  heavens and for a second she saw stars..
But unfortunately ungrateful of what she had.

He never saw her again after that.
         But he was a man of his word.
Now grounded to terra-firma he gazes
                  towards the stars and smiles.

Imprisoned in
     satin seductions,
     like a jail cell of purity stained.


You were meant
          to be my saviour.

          But you sold me on like cattle..

I'm a wondering soul,
      That has no footsteps
To call my own.  

All you step is on imprints
                           Of the past,
Showing  you the right steps to take...

I tasted your breath
                  like wine,
                  and when it soured.

                  I dropped the bottle...

Every clock stops,
         it just depends which chime.

Yours was twenty seconds ago..

This grandfather is never being wound again.

Life is just a grain falling
          to an inevitable conclusion.

That is, every tide comes in and
                                       drowns it.

I plucked your heart
               like a cherry.

crushing it till
            the pip
                        cracked.

Her legs weren't stairways
to heaven, for these ladders
       were anything but safe.

Pulled fibres collected
                          unsuspecting  
Victims to be caught upon
                    her wondering lusts.

For the best poison was that
   which took time to ****.
   And her bite was anything
   but fast acting upon her prey.

She never charged as much as
      those who were below her class.
              For she was scorned before.

And those who chose her beauty over
         instinct, only had themselves
                                                to blame.

For her man, was a walker of corners,
                      catching eyes of cheap thrills.
       His gift to her was a ring and a death sentence
                                                                        of A.I.D.S..

And now she passes the gift given without consent,
        to those who would choose a vine vintage soured
by gangrene grapes.  They'll all taste her sweetness,
     only to poisoned by its taste after swallowing  it.

I clung to hope,
              but it was to tight
                             to loosen.

I swung silently in despair.

Synthetic thoughts,
compromised  by organic
                            reflections.

synaptic pathways
                           worn down
by rudimentary contemplations.

"What am I"

Am I who I see
                        or
am I just memoires
              looking back..

Walking up to mummy,
            he says look at my smile.
I wanted to cheer you up.

            I made my smile rainbows,
                               to brighten you up.

Clouds howling in winds of
momentary grace. She looks above
seeing that the clouds greet within
thin veils of silver linings wherein.

Woven her gentile strokes birthed
a new cub the vapours nursed
within her grasp. Eagerly clouds
darken, tears fall from howling shrouds.


A bellowing wind, more a fresh breeze
between fingers rises. A solitary ease
as it lifts to the waiting pack above her.
All become a hue, howling within a blur.

Beauty is braille
written in the fingertips.

Never reading a word upon you,
              as my palms were pages.


And you were every word on them.

When we look above ourselves,
            A universe looks back.
And sees just little
                          0101010001010's

Woven patches of grey,
hues slow in momentum.
Tattered gaps letting through
              gleams of radiance.

But in motion do the faults
get sewn in silver linings.
And this blanket  
             mesmerising below.

Then the lonely flower opens
       its petals, reaching towards
the patch work of loving greys
                 yearning for a touch.

A singular drop falls, taking its
                   time to meet below.
So far has it descended to gently
              caress her wilting petals.

Replenished dew drops hang from
                         now pristine colours.
It waves in the subtle breeze,
      swaying in a dance of gratitude.

Wounds were never
             afflicted with
repercussion of syllable lesions..

No quite the opposite,
       Unfamiliar tastes on the
       tongue, cleansed improper tastes.

Swollen branches arched
              downwards
               towards the new born
                                   seedlings..

Opening there branches to
          let them flourish on
           the open skies  
beyond there yearning grasps

A medium of perpetual reflections
that never swing
                   between the  antecedent
occasions that were between now.

For a horizon never setting is rising
before the winding fractions that
             perceive the timely momentum
going forth before every step.

The past is a frame of what is expected,
        what was learnt as mistakes.
Guiding us to not misstep on those
          faults but build bridges forward.

We have so many memories to make,
               so many pages not yet written.
But every page is a footstep and were
only half way through our novel
                                         of life's moments.

Beyond the throws of gravities
                     memories swinging.

Collecting  views of
                           sorrowful glances.

Swinging, a hangman
                          regretful essences.

But never once feeling the noose
                   tighten, tears hang here.

Cuteness wasn't this adorable,
            
                 "Buy1 get 1free"

Never one to let bargains growl at me..

                 I brought the pack!!
                              
                           ­          "Smitten"

Following the words of tongue
         that flow like rivers,
coming from different streams.
             Each can venture on different
meanings, like the flow carrying petals
          of indifference upon
                   the riptide of contemplation.

Even though everyone shall drink from
             the knowledge flowing, each taste
            may divide from another and even
though the source maybe the same.
         Every sunrise is minutely different from
                                                          yesterday.
Gleaming on the flow of words, the reflection
                   upon each maybe not the taste of others.


Let us not differ on the source, but let us drink
                quietly upon the reflection that with
every drink brings ripples of reflection upon
all that drink from the knowledge that is swallowed.
There is one source and we are all part of its meaning.