Eternity promised me a moment,
             but forgot the time..

I was just a passing thought,


                                                forgotten...

A serial killer,
            hangs up his hatchet...

To scared of a cough to indulge,
                 in a fulfilment of a hobby..

Takes up sewing...

I'm the shadow,
   shuddering

                               what can I see

within the darkness...

We were in confided spaces before,
           in open air. Where we never mingled...
But at least we had company that we were
next to, now were in solitary confinement.

Now were 6 foot or 72 inches or 182.88cm
                from the nearest person, I don't know them,
they were here before me,
                                             celled up.
Slow walk, felt like a life time, so few steps..

But this is a funeral prosecution,
               is the one in front of me going to cough,
                                                                ­          sneeze..
Will they cover up or infect me, ME…
With there I don't know what's, could it be hay fever.

Could be me coughing in seven, to when I have a ventilator
shoved down my insides, I'm a breathing coffin..
        Just being buried slowly..
                                           they burn you now...
But I'm not there yet, I wash my hands.
                

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me,
        I hope I wash my hands enough to see my  
                                                            ­     next birthday.
  But I'm wishing my hand happy birthday now,
            So soar but I'm happy birthdaying all week.

We in an open prison, free but unable to escape,
               I look out my window and breath..
      The air is a lot fresher that it used to be..

Another week passes, I write lines on the wall
         of my incarceration, I'm in a cell of luxury.
But I've never felt so alone.
     Were all roses, wilting due to lack of sunlight...

Borderline hues shatter upon the
fragmentations
                        of sullen gullied pools..

Where the refraction of utopia shines,
  the *** is deceitful and tarnished.

As every prism of reverence disperses.
                    Heaven is a shard of falsehood
cutting into the sky...

Perceptions see an aura-borealis.
                 But woven with the beauty
is the curse of fallen angels..

For all who stared upon the glare
         were severed from sight...

Dilating upon the sorrow of
           written words etched in eyelids.

The world was beauty, and you blinded it..
       Now we will scratch every word inward.

See the error of your ways, and walk as before.

An attitude of purrfect proportions.
              But those,
                              come to stroke me
                                                      eyes..

Yo­u smile until there guest scampers
              over your feet "surprise,

Lucid eyes gaze at you deeply,
not just one, but the attention
of another. Then another,
till onyx eyes follow your
every movement, mimicking
                 your head gestures.

These little clouds of white,
    like a breeze surround you.
But what started of as a gathering
soon became a mob mentality.
As they hurry around you a
hurricane of nibbles upon your being.

As white becomes crimson, it would
look pretty if not for your blood painting
on the canvass of there appetite.
You try to scream out, but as you raise
your hand in desperation. One after another
they consume digits. And screams are
muffled out by there herd of ear piercing
                                            Bbaaaaaaaaaaaaa's.

­The circle of life has a funny way of coming
around, as they clean each other all that's left
is a stain, quickly dissipated with multiple
fluffiness walking over as they ***...
    What was a ink blot on the field now just
a hue on the blades no one being the wiser.

Then later another walker, brave and daring
walks unrespecting, and this one isn't as
skinny as breakfast.. Lunch is served.
As they smile sweetly, the walker says
          Bbaaaaaaaaaaa….

Oh dearie me..
             this isn't going to end well me thinks..

It was my birthday, the year
   of a curse I never asked for..

         ****** from the temple
of solitude.

Now I just breath
                      dissatisfaction,
that every 365 days I'm meant
                to celebrate the
incarceration of life..

Its overrated..

Blowing out memories,
       smouldering resentment
Inhaled when I've lived another
                   moment to the finish line..

Why is it taking so long..

Happy Birthday Day to me,
          I'm another year older
                       of my lame existence ...

I'm the candle burning out,
my breath smouldering as I
                   hold my chest..

Oh' well least I don't have to wait
another year..

My only regret...
                          I didn't get a slice of cake..

Watching as my wares are consumed
within this vessel carrying
              my world.
Checking as if I were
                 revising for that exam..

If I fail..

       My heart palpitating as beads
of sweat congregate upon every
      thought.
Dripping into pools of reality..

Wish I was there, locking my door I breath...

She told him that if an inch was a mile,
          that her footstep would have been
all it took..

"It doesn't matter the length of the road,
     its the engine that drives you on it..

Well love yours is a 50cc and that doesn't
                   get me anywhere fast...
Jesus my stick vibrates
                          at I higher speed than that.

And doesn't run out of gas that quick,
                                   splutter, splutter..

It isn't true what they say about shoe size,
                    what a dam pity....

Vibrational  hues eclipse
         my exterior ,
reverberating upon
                           my senses.

Parallel bars synchronize
around me, am I  a prisoner
as the resonation keeps
            me within this spot.

I can feel within a perfect
           storm of repetition.
Like chambers bouncing off
each other, trying to find a
                             synchronization.

I look at myself,
                      breaches spring forth,
this shell is to weak to keep me in.
        Shattering forth, I'm pure volume.

The bars start to spike, As I break free.
         We become harmonized,
what tried to bind is now part of my reality.

Pack it up, pack it in
don't throw my bolts there creating a din.
I won't ever battle you, that would be a sin.
Never will I stack up,
              cos you just  knocked me down again.

Trying to act higher,
            with you and your godly crew.

  But I'm the lord of the dead,
             come on get your tombs up,
I raise the dead, can I have some hands up.

I have two minions, no there not yellow.

Pain is his name.
             Getting splinters in your **** cheek,
stubbing your toe once again,
                                 jump around, jump around
                         his confusion will get you down.
    
           Then we panic,
                  who likes a bit of disco.
   But he'll move your keys
just so you jump around, jump around
                           lateness is his merry go round.

I'll serve you up on the river of sticks,
           If your coins ain't legit,
   Throwing your cheap **** off the boat.
You get a special place for being tight-****** ..

   I've got more schemes, than any other villain,
copyrighted some cos others trying to steal um..

Tried to get Hercules on my side, but he was a
       goody, goody, with piercing blue eyes..
   I tried to ride his horse but it threw me off,
            Slightly embarrassed by blue hair went off..

Yes I 'm bald and I wear a flaming  blue wig,
but I'm a millennia old, and no sunlight down here.

You think Zeus locks are real,
        More like Clouds that with a deceitful blow,
have his head looking  like a shiny chrome dome .

My name is Hades and I'm king of the underworld,
                                           I'll  never rise to the top,
    But I'll see you on the other side,  enjoy it up top.

We are a breath,
                    from our last.
                              And a new one,
to show we still have time to smile.

I cut down the last tree,
   and ate the last apple...

I  wore the snake as a noose...


******* gravity...
  


                 I fell hollow and empty...

For every curtain that is closed
        to the onyx descending.

One is always opened to the illumination..
                                               of a new day...
We may think we settle in to darkness.

But we always awaken to a new day,
         no mater the cloud every one has a silver lining..

Shining on the next blue sky that we swim within,
                                   floating on the breath of positivity..

G-od Is the D-evil,
             conjoined twins that do
the opposite of the other.

But are they the same person..
        never telling the other what there planning
but sharing the same thoughts.

Does that make them both guilty of what they do?

For every second step was erroneous,
             I thought I'd reach a new height
of understa……….

Then I'd decline to a lower point
                     of where I was before.

Never gaining enough elevation to
see past the predicament I find myself
           causally stepping forth upon..

Felling like Sisyphus, always trying to
gain a truth only to find out that a step
            could make me fall more than before.

Only wanting to climb this ladder of life,
       but deceit and snakes keep me from
gaining
              ground...

Life is a ladder and some runs are always precarious,
   do we step lightly, or do we tread upon the next to
only find that it was the broken one..

I wasn't the one, you weren't alone,
You were just in need of a friend.
But I was there when you needed
someone to listen, I wasn't your
friend but unbiased ears never
            tell you false lies..

I'll tell you what you don't want to hear.

I'm car when you crossed the road,
         hit and run on your road
of potholed truths that others
                                         filled in.


I wasn't a friend, you weren't alone,
you were just in need of a voice.
But I was there when you needed
someone's truth. I wasn't your
friend we'd only just met.
      
I'll tell you what you don't want to hear.

I'm the car when you crossed the road,
         hit and run on your tarmac
of potholed truths that others
                                         filled in.
With false gratitude cos they charged
you for the air they filled you with.

I was a friend, new off the press no secrets
    no lies to hold back. filling you with
the honesty you had missed.
           Not your bestie, just a new face
in your reflection with no need to be

                              two faced....

I wasn't the ghost, you were the echo..

I took up gardening
during the quarantine..

  I made a lovely death bed
                I mean rose bed...


My husband hasn't been back
             in a while?

O' well

             I mean, 999 I haven't seen
my husband since I sent him out
           for milk..

He was coughing a lot but
                      I'm in quarantine.

So I couldn't go to find him,
                                 I'm killing him,
sorry I'm missing him.

Blue lights flashing,
            the boys in blue..

"Would you like a coffee,

"Yes, thanks love,

As we sat across from the roses,
      I asked,    "You ok,

"Ye, I just think these things look
               nice but smell like death,

As they leave I give them homemade cookies,
                special ingredient

homemade LSD..

Just encase they had any thoughts that I
         was the killer.

Rest in Peace hubby, I'm always right....

Hi-** Hi-** it's sanitizing I go,
   With a pump and spray
    Killing covid 19 on my way

Hi-low Hi-low  I got a cough
Not going away,
Getting harder to breath.
  With a high temperature
   Its off to hospital I go...

Hi-low  Hi-low

Hi-low Hi-low  I'm here to stay
            Still feeling weak
  Harder to breath
But I'm social distancing
   More than I did.

Hi-low Hi-low no gloves on as
it doesn't protect as you,
more germs
   Collecting than you know.

Hi-low Hi-low

So many passing away,
  Doctors, medics
Normal people in every
   Walk of life,
I cried as I felt Hi-low

Hi-low Hi-low it's the way we go,
We have our high days and
Then lows..
When we just  want it over,
lock down h ere to stay,
but were alive and the peak is low.

The notes like angels fall upon the
         paper submissive on the lines.
As if they were meant to mean more
                   than just a ceremony
of notes.
Giving a eulogy to
                                 my own request.

But even though cherubs grace my
         thoughts, divine interpretation
of an ending as this quill of white,


           gracing every imprint..



Perfection is blotted, the lines will
            never grace this reflection again.

An orchestra of hand gestures play,
         as if  I see ever instrument grace
the air in synchronized perfection.

I realise that I may not be a pauper,
        or one of riches and fame..

But I have a feeling that I'll live on
           within the lines of my creations.

A eulogy of my sound vibrating though
the halls of time, my eulogy is
           the sound I left behind never words.

The disco floor is empty,
   No more john Travolta
                            Olivia Newton John

serenades,

Cos there at home,
                      quarantined.


           They use there roller skates
around the settee, getting there exercise
               a fifteen minute burn.

                           As any more I'd need a martini.

Bruise's show that its isn't as easy as
                                          it used to be.

On Amazon for a new flat screen....
                      because the other one has
a roller skate imbedded in it.

What!! that was forty two years ago...

     Not as flexible as we were before.
My kids got the swear jar full after that day...


                                                    And breath..


Summer nights we weren't at the beach,
          social distancing and the police.
So we turned the backyard in to our holiday.
tell me more,
             it turned cold,
  So we went in quick as a sneeze would echo
    around the neighbourhood and you know
           how'd they talk. Oh they got covid 19


Summer dreams,
                             I haven't got the body for it now..
            We've been quarantined for twelve weeks..
Tell me anyone that has a beach body?
       More like a beached whale...

But the quarantine is saving us,
       No social gathering, no school...
lie ins while the kids sleep into...

And I'll dream of that moment I can
          see mum again, skype is all good,
but cause the level of concern I'll wait till
           were allowed to visit the loved ones again.

I was never the one,

            I wasn't even the second
of what ever you thought you
wanted from us.

I was never going to be yours,

           I wasn't even mine,
I resisted the urge to look
at the scars
                  of
       where I'd been.

            I'd not been to
that place for a while.

But how can I be what others push,
        like I'm an addiction
waiting to be cured.
   There the needle pushing in my skin.
   breaking my resolution to not be
                           like I was before this.


Sorry, I couldn't give you a smile,
           I couldn't give you time,
           I couldn't even give you us.



                                      I'm not even mine..

I was the kid always falling from the branch,
      the other kids laughed, thinking I wasn't

nimble fingered, but as I saw it I was the only
one not scared to fall any distance..

    Because I'd know that I would get up again.

They would never know the amount of falls it
                        would take for determination

to allow me to stand with my head up high...

The same goes for love, I thought I could fall.
                 But rejection doesn't bruise

it hurts deeper inside.

And you were always there..

Don't let a tumble blemish that feeling inside,
            you'll find it again.


It may take time,  like finding wally in that book.

But once you find it you'll know its unique..
                         Because it was harder to find...

So just remember it may not be a long fall..
   but it'll always hurt.

If you ever need me, I'm here.
                No matter the amount of tears


i'll dry them up.

We thought  we were the rise and fall of the world,
           could we have been more wrong..

I remember an old proverb,


"Control is foolish without batteries,
   because once they run out.
                        Your stuck on
                         one channel,
watching
                 a singular view unchanging,

Could we mould the world,
like a pottery class we're moulding it  
         thinking we could
            paint it,
kiln it,

and it was perfection..

But we had a malevolent arrogance,
thinking we were saintly,
       all though we thought we were saints.

So boastful of our accomplishments,
           we never looked at the singular crack.
Barley visible to the eye, but there never the less.

After a while we ignored it, as we never
                                                       expected
Our work to falter..

I remember a proverb that paid heed to this.

Discontinuity may be a scratch,
            visually constrained

but protracted in depth. malevolent

Beneath will never show the truth till

                            it collapses within its self..

Wordy I know, but a truth of now.
         Never paying attention to the scratch
but not seeing the fracture just waiting for that
                                            singular weight to
descend us to the now. So many cracks in the world.

Now no matter our skill the world is just putty,
   remoulding itself with every new day..

A sunrise of reflection,
            Dusk hiding the truth of our folly.

We now live in this new world of our undoing..
           The poetry wheel is fragmentary,
the vase now floating, shifting in the well
we used to mould it with.

And we stare at the
                             sunrise seeing our
vindictive creation...

We are the evil of this world, a creation of arrogance.

Unblemished kisses,
      woven upon her  fragrance.

I close my eyes and we connect,
            

                 I then pull away and giggle.

"Why are you laughing...

I can taste your toothpaste!!
           She blushes with a smile,

And we continue..

Can I have some more "sir,

             how can we feed the children..


Put them in the coal mines,
                      its our new energy...

Green is dead..

I gave the logging corporations
             the go ahead to cut the lungs out,
who needs to breath fresh
          its all recycled, {redacted}
  its used and we'll sell it back to you.


Air who needs it,
   We'll sell you fresh in a unrecycled
canister,
                 with only a hint of contamination.


We made America great again,
                 even though you cant go out.

As we down played the viruses...

           All the bunkers were lately filled,

That singular cough flowing through
  the cheaply made ventilation system..


Made in the USA, more like red tape cut,
             As Americans cough to the grave...

But you died with a dollar in your hand..
                   Wait the money is what gave you

Covid 19 as it wasn't sanitised,

as money is
                   worth more than American lives..

I like to blow bubbles In the rain,
           to see them play dodgeball

with the raindrops.


And as they  floats beyond my sight,
           I see the sunrays glisten off them,

Pocket rainbows floating above my head.


Its the little things that bring a smile to a day

I get a lot of the opposites
          asking for my number.


I'm no player,

                             I got a band
on my finger.

The one I'll  duet with
               singing a song of only us.

But they don't get the hint,
   they be wearing one too,
tarnished more than they think.

But I give them my number anyway..
                                    07504-2432837..

The­n I walk off my smiling. sc0red...

   But not in the way you think?

For this is a premium rated number.

  And on a phone bill it comes up
               with a message!!

That couldn't  be misconstrued as
                                       anything else..

But you tried too, well there single now...

The mirror we thought was our reflection,
                           now cracked and distorted.

For were we really looking deep enough,
or were we just hoping that what we saw
                       was a true reflection of love.

Not a fun house mirror of regret.
                           Not showing the true extent
of what we saw.

But a reflection of what we wanted.



                          Truth is never that kind...

We weather the storm of thought and retrospection,
            our words are metaphors of our daily lives..

Some light like a candle others like space a flickering
with  no warmth,

But swallowed by the darkness,
               awaiting its last breath.

Suffocated by the glass held in waiting,

                  for it to drown in its own fumes.

Tethered upon my shoulders,
          loose threads keeping me

from being decapitated

             from
             mundane consequences.

But,

What would happen If
            I'd  held my breath letting all the
air out.

deflated meanings of life,

                                               freedom..

My conciseness was a seed of spider threads,
             and when an idea birthed like a
sack of baby arachnids.

Crawling within,  
  consuming my every introspection.

I slumped over the page, they crawled forth,
           tiny metaphors continuing after
   my musing was consumed within..

Love is a smile that never fades,
        but is glanced upon

every morning,.

For we are two parts making more
            than a whole..

For one + one isn't two

its a family of more parts than just
                               us both.

Mum he's teasing me,

                             Dad she stole my deodorant...


Were more than when we started..
    for one and more is never the amount

we expect.

As a family is never what you expect it to add up too..

Hues of onyx fill the hemisphere,
                                   daylight sets artificially..

The glacier of life floats breathless,
          more mass underneath..

Beauty now drowns for profit...

Life at this moment you cant be bullshitting
me. There isn't an April fools that's getting
even close to what we find ourselves hitting
any where near to this.  it's so unfitting.

But no matter the **** hitting the fan,  I haven't got
any bog roll. I can only poo outside before I'm caught.
But leaves are natures wipes and I'm dammed if aught
I'll sleep with skids on my sheets, but if I do I'll just smile.

But underneath I gag as the sweet corn is natures reminder
to wipe before, as they feel like coffee not  put through the grinder.
I feel like crap my legs woefully tanned, not because of the sun,
crap skidding my legs,  as if you lift the sheets its a gross viewfinder.

I'm no trailer park trash,
you may live
                      forty three stories more than me..

But I'll reach higher than you any day of the week.

I only have to take one step,
                             to tell what is
                        curb crawling around me.

Trying to sell me false hopes,
            selling me bath salt dreams.

But there more like bubble bath,
          popping before I even enjoyed it.

Your hopes and dreams are sky high,
illusions of
           your first steps.
A worthless dime falling from  a great height.


              No one even heard you
                                           plunge...

Cos there only interested what's
                                      happening on the street..

Your just a stain that no one really looked at,

                                                        cares about.


    As there's plenty more chalk outlines
                            that children hopscotch over..

Can you count to ten..


Then there's another gunshot..
          like a storm, they hitting in the distance..

Just another cold breath that falls from ground zero...
                                                  burn stains on the
side-lines
                    that play pause.



                                        No breath... no care.

I'm here at ground zero,
            your up there in your fairy-tale

hanging from your chandelier,

But I'm swinging lower but still breathing.

I find the allure of burgundy hues,
          not one for the corpse of grapes,

                                                              being  

squeezed of every essence of life...

But the allure haemorrhaging forth..

I could be buried within this collage of
                                                      elegance.
­
And when I dig myself from it,
                      
I would  paint,
  
                                seeing  a picture of vigour.



Not the outline that others see ,
                                                when
                its chalk lined on the canvass.

Its not deceased,

                           this moment has only just breathed.

We are but cadavers of memory,
                   cleansing the shore line


of word..

But sometimes we find
                that this shell will inexplicitly wash up again


more polished than before.

An attire of cadaver obsidian
      hangs upon the expiration

of every fluctuation.

Weaving sorrow on every passing.


Considering the folly of her motionless
                                  endeavour.

Her garb falters and  decomposes
              below her narcistic

                                                pondering.


She is neither Earth or Air,
                but a decompaction of

reflections fading over time..

I think my mind just threw up
                       in my subconscious.

Chunks of metaphor,
         smelling the bile

of an idiots question..

Bandeau effortlessly draped
                    over her physique.

I wanted to open my gift.


  As the sash descended,


                              she bit her lip.

We throw roses as the thorns cutting
deeper than death..
But we never know as our existence was forsaken.

Aren't we worth more than the stars..
But alas we are the folly of crows picking aimlessly,
                                 and the obituary of dissolution.

Organs of dead fellows,
       rings of white
the corpses of high standing felled.

And yet you think my diminishing
                gives you heed to throw

me stained with waste...
                     stigmatized....

If my bygone
            echo was life


I would have already been rescinded .

But back by popular demand,
                                                   nihility..


I never got past yesterday.

If your account of this is passing pages
  then I'm an obituary that people skim past,

death on paper is still

             a cemetery of yesterdays that people never visit.

I'm in this place a prison
of homely comforts,
that
cut upon the wrists
                           of  
          
                             my sanity.

I used to see the walls as collages
of happier times.
Now I just put lines of
                   I I I I I I the seventh
is my reality that I'll just start
                                 a new one.

They look like I, I need, I want
but never getting past the I...

As I know I'm in here for the sentence
             of security and life.

                          But,

why do I have to do it in solitary confinement,



I'm                   so                         lonely...