We were gazing within each others
                                         eyes, souls.
Gathering within each others unspoken
                                        words, syllables.
Echoing in tranquillity, the loss of never
                                         touching, holding.
But you were like a far off star in my sight
                                         unreachable, seen.
Though closer than before we could never
                                         cherish, elope.
Alone with in the grasp of another we were
                     so close but never enough....

Ligaments are folly for the static movements
that I tender on the world around me.
I'm a puppet that has had its strings severed.

No longer will I stand before a crowd admiring
the swag of free motivation. Now I'm but a flawed
puppet with my useless severed strings lingering.

Once upon a time I was  a puppet and I pulled all
my own strings... But now I'm gathering
dust in my self  pity, and my strings are now cut.

But even though they are severed, and no longer
dance to my own tunes. I'm no weaker than before!
I'm stronger within myself, I may have fallen but got up.

"We are stronger than we think,
"We just have to pick ourselves up.
           *"For we are our own weight, that only we can pick up.

Even though I spill a thousand lies on into
the steam of my life that others drink from.

Polluting the world around of me, I will never
corrupt your love.

The river of my confusions may contaminate
others reflections. seeing unseen's.

But with you my words are like fresh snow,
every word falling true never contaminated.

Those that I collect in my pocket are
the gullibility of sheep following a wolf.

But you I would only wrap in cotton, those before me
only following my words  to the slaughter house.

We are woven in
                     different cloths
that fit us all.

For we all wear the same
       skin individually.

We must find
                 ourselves

before finding the
                          right

piece that fits us.

The moments that
make us feel small.

                 Are the ones that
help us fit through the cracks..

Though the waters
                           may fall,
evaporating like shadows
of what momentarily descended.

There is still a silhouette
left like a
               moment,
not seen but knowing
       it had been there.  

*"Tears always falling elegantly,

I collected your clothes
                                   still damp,
my heart was washed away with you

Now I'm drowning within myself,
                             my heart floating
into the flash flood of denial...

Walking on my own I found
a truth that we are slaves to
nothingness..

"Yet it grips so many in its vastness,

I'm empty yet drinking upon
life's moments, I fill  in a momentary
fulfilment.

"We drink life, to experience meaning,

I was a seedling so long ago but my
branches grew to a different way of
thinking.

"I'm more than I was, reaching further,

Never will I fit into the needing of others
nothingness, I fill myself with fulfilled
motivation.

Staring down serene
                             views,
looking over the ocean.
The moon gazed tranquilly
looking at stars in the
                   mirror of waving tides.

a sweet
delicate taste,
veiling true intentions.
Delicious retribution, then
silence.

On a shore line of forgotten promises,
tied to a embankment  of memories.
                                     it leans wearily,
obligated to wait for a tide that has
evaporated like its hope evermore.

But as blue tears erode from its façade,
                                falling into the breeze.
Tied to a stump of wood cleaved from life,
as this majestic moment both dead in the
water of past retrospective moments.

Linen sheets smelt like
                                  summer

As I hung there silently...

Though you are not near,
                             I feel you in the walls,
I never noticed the ripples,
the effigy of your features peering
underneath the veil of silhouettes,
that contort to the yearning of you.

I push my palm against the wall,
and sense a migration of tangibility
as though you were
                                  intrusive on this world.
but poignant features I read like brail.

I slumber nights on the cold floor, eyes
eclipsing the days. But I gaze at you,
never seeing but I know your
                                         beneath my skin
with your gaze. I see only ripples of
my yearning, I hit out at the wall that
keeps you from me and it bleeds.

My heart descends into oblivion knowing
your within my reach, I want to contort
this paper into  
                         origami effigies of you.
But I will wait till my draping's are tattered
to feel you upon my paper skin flesh.

Write upon me your yearning, I recline
on the walls of his memory waiting for
it to sense my thirst...
                                 drowning in silence.
But as I fade into the grasps of a shallow grave,
I feel you upon my flesh pulling me within and
we are one, I'm just bones behind a wall of memories.

They wield the button as a weapon of
their verse, throwing words like a glove.
But it was limp like there inconsistent verse,
like a lefty throwing, right handed but worse.

Your momentary time of the month, I gave
you an emoji tissue to wipe off the embarrassment
of sweaty words you opened up on now behave.
needing a little dignity, reverse on your disembarrassment.

Either that or been known for your CAPSLOCK stutter,
seeing you tripping over yourself amid ridiculed clutter.
now see that light on the side, click it speak respectably.
now calm your rage, and talk respect others expectedly.

Cover me in petals so
that the falling of my
body smells like perfume.

Not the hues of deaths
aroma, let me be in my
state, buried in colour.

For I'm but a petal that's
fallen, and so others cover
my decay in there beauty.

A mother waits

     police reading stories...

Even though my syllables ballerina
may falter, my metaphor's never
                                                  falter.

I balance my wording between
the lines of reality and
                                   fantasies realm.

Dancing upon the imagery of
others thoughts and lives.
                           Living their words.

I'm a ballerina of imagery, feeding
there visual needing, I dance upon
                           their needing of word

Fatherless men, of fortitude
gaining the respect of others.
Brothers of arms, where one
falls, all would fall for another.

Never do they go singularly forth,
a unit of the numerous.
A back is never left alone, one covers
another, two are exclusive as another.

Closer than family are those who
would take one for the other.
Never knowing if the one decision will
bury them with a flag, as others salute them.

Created in an image of you,
woven in the palms of creation.
But you made a broken puppet,
one that will never be real.

Sins of a father who wove wrong
stitches within, but called for us
not to sin. But why collect the coins
that you thrown within the pond?

Rippling within, you knew of its
calling yet sealed it in. Said that
we would fall from graces, but
the grace was already dimmed.

Then I realized that you weren't
what I was told, no father would
inherently seed you with this contempt,
just to know you'll fail no matter the ending

Sins of a father who isn't really there,
never would you have done this if
you wanted us beneath you chair.
I wash my thoughts of this distaste.

I know now that your just a sadness of
false words, for a fathers wish is to bring
you into a world pure. Who would want
to birth flaws if not for the purpose of failure.

Looking onward I'm my own decisions,
not flawed from birth, we all have our own
morality its human kindness, thought.
Sins of a father that never spoke any words.

Where is the twinkle
the one who shots across
             my vision,
my star....

I look and see a starless void.

You were meant to guide me,
but you are vacant like the sky.

I'm waves of sorrow
collapsing on shores of
                            dejection

High tide carries me to
rock pools of collected
                            reflections.

When I regress to my lowest
point, I drown within my own
                                              regrets

I'm in a cycle of waves that crash
within myself, washing me slowly
                                                  away...

Traversing in silent moments
where there was an eclipsing
of breath, caressing unspoken
words but everything silently
                                             narrated.

Nearly adjoining within each
others gravity, but still we were
shadowed by the others desires.
Collecting in the afterglow of
                                             emotions.

This was an eternity of moments,
a motion not to repeated in alluring
views, immovable, inseparable of
our inevitable paused
                                     joining.

You were my star, I was your moon,
eclipsing with our gradual passing.
Enticing the other until for that brief
amount of time lips met and time was
                                                   *motionless.

Goodbye to all who knew me,
This is just a story
                                  ending

This is now an empty sheet,
but my words will always
be silently read. My children are
my pages carrying my memory on.

I'm the silk on the purity
of you, even though
                         I touch you.

I'm only a layer upon you.

Collect on the husks of my thoughts,
                    like maggots feeding  on the
memories buried deep.

Then reword what you had consumed,
defamation of dead reflections
                          now wrote in decayed ink.. 

Your feeding on me,
and I'll never know as my words are cobwebs
                                                     of dead thought.

Lets play the game of
others affections of
confirmed words...

Of what is excepted
by the heard,
feed the same old verse.

But when there is a black sheep,
one who doesn't conform
to your expectation of word...

who pens, cleverly, who inks.
outside the comfort blanket
of others wanting...

like it more than the repeated
verses of same old same old,
as its better to read new not a repeat.

I stepped off the bus
   never the same one.
always a different point of view

Every time I walked of
                   the step..
Wandering
              glancing,
looking at the afterimage
of the people wandering on.

Cracked pavements breaking the backs
of others sleeping rough. every step
a story and every movement,
each a motion in the wrong direction.

I always gave a moment to them
sad starts or static endings....
purgatory of morality kept in-between.

Cities are like the lungs
of a country...

But when villages decay
and towns become
oxidized
like popcorn lung..

You know that the end of  civilization
isn't so far away...

And the mind that kept everything
running smoothly became vegetated
and non responsive.

Then you know your country
became dead...
void of a perspective
living in the afterlife of echoes....

Aromas never smelt
                    the same,
inhaling the essence of
                                  you.

Allured,
              tasting your lips
                          a single kiss
cherry blossom moments.

Crimson shimmers
bled from
                petals
when love died.

A carcass of
         emotions darkened
filling a void. A black rose
                             entombed

The purest form of emotion
                      is a snow flake,
Individual, beauty crystalized.

Unique like every sorrow,
evaporating and descending
         like each tear,
never the same one falls twice.

I wrote you a poem on
our first date
                on tissue paper ..

I'd kept it all these years  
                                 framed
on our bedside table..

When I saw you with another,
               I knew we were over.
So I wiped my **** with it

Putting it on her pillow,
             with new words.
You treated my heart like excrement.

So I've wiped you from my
                                 thoughts.
             My old verse is no more.

All that is left are ******
                                       feelings,
That I wiped away with my first words.

We were in a moment static,
woven within each others oceans,
Then she spoke
              
                           "Your such a good friend,

In that moment I sank beneath
the waves of her eyes,
                                     settling
in the graveyard
           of others sunken hearts..

She was easy on the eyes
                       mesmerised
by her allure.

Momentarily we touched
                              delicately.
Stealing my heart
              as well as my wallet.

I left it on the doorstep
                  knocking
then evaporating into the night.

Last I heard they had taken it in.
                      
My heart useless to me...

So another may make good use of it.

Piteous silhouettes hung loosely in the dark
bloodstained pools evaporated, staining like a birthmark.
Even the wind was mindful not to be found in this place.
static was the air like corroded snowflakes,  stark
reminders that this was decaying like a living carcass.

Pictures woeful reminders of moments when life exhaled.
But nothing is collecting only the whispers veiled
behind nothingness. The threshold of dismay was
as quiet and suffocating that none were failed
they just lingered behind the walls, breathless life in pause.

Conception of what lay within the ebbing stone walls.
Feathers onyx as nightfall were called angel falls,
for no crows were seen, but the feathers fell, was this
the gateway now to hell. Trapping all within its halls.
Dismay as life ebbed around, live consumed by this abyss.

Luminous stars caught above
                                         sight,
catching the shimmering
beauty of powdered trees.

A blanket of snowflakes gently
                                         caresses
surrounding landscapes of stillness.
As footsteps  break pristine white.

So many pens have run dry,
I miss the reflections of others.

Like a crypt of cobwebbed words
that others visit, reading faded verse.

I reminisce on words that have become
static, hoping again for a breath of new word.

Woeful are the faint breaths
                             of loves allure.

Only to be buried later in
                           shallow graves of misery.

history is an old cassette tape
                     being rewound
and repeating
        we need a new tape...

Foreboding stature,
            cryptic tattoos adorned
upon rough terrain..

Others whisper with content,
             as children run
He grabs them delicately and smiles.

*"A fathers love shines.

Vague eclipses delicately dance
                                    with luminosity,
as time verses though out the day.

Waltzing  to the intricate motions
                                          of both,
time, repetitive silhouettes
                              forever repeating.

The stars were dying as we stared above,
mans momentary glimpse heeding the
blanket of nightfall culling the allure above.

My lights like fireflies in the night, till we got
to our spot, lying on the bonnet we just stared up,
amazed at what adorned on our eyes.

*"Where a grain spinning on a stone in boundless moments,

I could gaze into your eyes
                           for eternity,
never getting lost within
                the galaxies of love.

When you walk away,
I see you as
              a shooting star
knowing our eyes will always cross by.