Woeful of our wishes that fall
               on the shores of despair.

             We may walk, but we will never run.


But only fall into the sea
           of discontent.

Never realising
                                                that we never left
and drowned in our own misguided dreams.

I see you and I think you need
a stroke, my hairy little friend,
purring as I stroke you gently
my nails caress your skin,
heightened purring teasing you
no words need to be spoke.

I move my fingers side to side,
your starting to get excited, you
love me teasing you more, I
glide my fingers across your lips
wet juices start to flow inside.

I caress in-between my fingers
feel you wetness excited are
we as my fingers explore, I
touch that spot, side to side
my fingers caress you moan
saying you want more.

My fingers explore further
down my tips find that point
and dive deep in to your pool
of wetness.

As in and out not  all the way
motioned to keep at it more
juices flow around and on to
the sheets below.

You tighten up and I know
the time is near, you crave my
fingers even more one more
push and you explode, my
fingers wetter than before.

I feel you tighten around my
fingers shock waves flow over
your body I push my fingers
deeper finishing you of as you
lay relaxed and fulfilled, now
its my turn but she says she
to relaxed now,

''HOW RUDE''

I say, but she drifts of to sleep
fulfilled, open mouthed I ****
her juices from my fingers the
only action ill see, your juices
now cold on my fingers as I
**** the last from my finger,
before I too go unfulfilled to sleep.

Rain, rain go away  I,ve had enough of
You today, you met your friends near
The river bank and thought it would be
Fun to come up and give me a wave.
  
As you fell and friends did follow, you
Invited yourselves in through my door.
  
As more did follow, a house party of
Wetness invited, once dry objects now
Soaked, ruined by the unclean that pushed
Their way though my letter box.

Not even knocking to ask to come into
My home, drenching my settee and my phone.
  
Rain, rain has come to stay, ruined my
Things now being thrown away.
  
I don,t mind a drip a sprinkle or down
Pour, but I don't think you again should
Come knocking at my door.

My lover of the night she was a biter,
what can I say I liked that way she
****** on parts other than my neck.

But I threw caution to the wind, I had
a cold, eating breaded mushrooms.
She was coming around as night fell.

Mouthwash not wanting my breath
to smell like the undead on her lips,
she is eternally flawless in moonlight.

I guide her downward towards my
stake, she can bite off more than she
chews, and then some more.

I tell her to take it in taking it all, but
then a scream as I expelled my life blood
as my fanged beauty turns to dust.

I wonder what happened no light or
garlic? then I read the empty wrapper
garlic mushrooms, this really *****..

Little bear* eyes OPEN
Little bear everything SEEN
Little bear held so TIGHT
Little bear keeping me SAFE
Little bear my only FRIEND
Little bear shares BRUISES
Little bear held up PROTECT
Little bear thrown ASIDE
Little bear  "HELP ME"
Little bear witnesses TEARS
Little bear sees EVERYTHING
Little bear now buried with ME
Little bear I wish you could have *helped me.

I am the embodiment of all
things good and trustworthy,
I have a devilishly seductive
smile.

Come on you know you can
trust me, look in to my eyes,
there hypnotizing wouldn't
you say.

''yes I understand''  

You know what to do, just sign
on the dotted line, repayment in
ten years then you owe what is mine.

'' I'll sign so it can be mine''

Sign in red on the dotted line,
as he smiles with a raised eyebrow
the deal nearly sealed, you can
trust me, as the black feather tip
scratches across the line.

I am the embodiment of all things
good and trustworthy, he says
and the deal is done, devilishly
he smiles, see you in ten years,
trust me ill back now the deal is done....

I'm drowning yet I stand in no water,
civilization is the curse of my existence
it weights upon every aspect of me.
Do this, don't do that, I am man I am free.

But they do not listen for greed is upon fake
prophets that only think of what they can
accumulate before the reaper kisses there soul
and all that is left is regrets and nothing more.

"Spin the wheel your fate is there's to play,

Be one with the world, live life, don't do as
your told freedom is your chosen choice.
We are now like hen pecking in out squalid
corner, when really we shouldn't be drowning

Neanderthal thoughts,
Grasp hardened, knuckles release,
Brutalities mist.

My thoughts are an ice cube,
Melting in the midday sun.
Mostly idle thought, that like
A stream running off to nowhere.

But then those moments of clarity,
Join a stream a particles not seen
But there.Waiting to be absorbed
Or to join a cognitive droplet.

Then free fall, landing with a gentle
Tap on my mind. No longer is it solid
But liquid dripping through ideas
And draining out in thawed form.

It is purest before the scratch,
A stain on white,
Like roots it grows beneath,
Not seen but  there till the
Point its pollen Comes forth,
And with each shard
Shattering on the purity, 
Till like ash crushed to black.

My mind is a cauldron of
thought, always is some
thing spilling out, I have
to be carful and not let
them spill on the floor

Never to be an idea spoilt
in dirt. I just skim the foam
of thought that boils forth
and then sip to make the
thought an idea.

For while my cauldron of
thought, is stocked by the
flames of letters burning
that saturate in to the cauldron
to boil in to thought.

For this is only a time of ideas,
for the flames may one day only
glow, not burn and the cauldron
may only simmer and ideas not
full but not cold.

Till the day the fires again once
stoked, and the ideas boil with
thought I must capture that
which boils to skim it for
thoughts to become ideas or more..

The immobile carcasses of plastic babies
litter my child's floor, never seeking there
birth mother as she was a statue of recycled
imagery. Of illegitimate children holding this
abortion of weaved construction that sings hollow
words of  "mommy, mommy,

But they look within me, in cold eyes they stare in
to nothingness heeding the words of wanting
but their cries diminish to a silent lingering buzz.
Barely heard but I white noise succumbs to dreams
of a lonely child in stress, but recycled voice spoke.

I kicked the abortion of sickening similarity and
wonder back as the form of a child, baby, I have just
kicked. But still it weeps for a mother that is as
fake as the calls its synthetically calls upon a child.

Inanimate objects that stir in repetition, I will be long
gone when you will still whimper in a landfill,
calling in static, batteries last moments and you
still call out "mommy, mommy, no one answers your call.

In exhalation
                       my life
was breathed
        on all I knew...

My dog its name is Gizmo with a capital G, he isn't
very tall and not very long. He's very playful doesn't
always listen to what he's ever told. But it's like his name,
as others have said so. If somethings missing the blame
would always be on him, to this hairball this is just a game.

His favorite season for walks is when autumn comes to call.
The puddles on the floor and the leaves on the ground, all
he wants to do is be playful in the heaps of color and crawl.
Beneath them playing hide and seek, but he is always so
easy to find, following his lead a tail-wagging to and fro.

He never misses a puddle, his hair soaked, and has very
muddy little toes, chasing all the birds, but he's not scary
at all. They fly away squawking and he just looks at me
then runs around again chasing nothing at all. We see
in the distance home letting off the lead, he runs in glee.

Towel now around him, drying him quickly off. As his wetter
than a puddle. Shivering we give him a cuddle, feeling better
he now falls asleep upon his bed. Five minutes of peace before
he gets his energy back, and then a zoomy around the floor,
and then I'm like, has anyone seen my sock?      Gizmo!!

Observant misconstrued glances weaving conclusions
of what is above your paygrade of perceptiveness.
imperfections of what you glance upon.

A child in the confinement of misunderstanding,
Only the turbulence of reality like ocean waves.
Solitude of emotions then surges of confusion crash.

Lost in the tall trees of emotions as the leafs of
disorientation venture to cloud a mind of needed calm.
The conciseness needs the rhyme of routine to balance.

Heed this thought those of ill-conceived notions that
when this little miracle has a moment of uncontained
emotion, it is not for your misconceived wordings.

"My little one mummy is here, daddy too,
"Hear our voices like a calm ocean over you,

A mother embraces the worries of your thoughts,
easing the confusion of the world away..
Others may stare in ignorant stances.

*"But nothing is wrong with you, you're our baby
cuddling the confusion of your surroundings away.

Though we wish,
             can we ever find our
                    prince charming..


A shoe may fit, but is it comfortable.


And our happy ever after is but a moment,
         of chemical imbalances before we realise.
  

That we should have smashed
                                  the happy ever after.  
As glass always cuts deep
                                   it only takes time.

This fella or
                      was it a lass?
  the compelling
         question to ask?

This unique one, with a hoot.

No, it didn't bark
                            or woof or even
meow,
                  or blow bubbles like my fish,
                                  Pop!

It never spoke a word
            or a sentence.

You could speak to it,
  can you understand my
     soft words?
   All you heard back was
                          the hoot.

Was that a yes or a no
                          or a maybe?

short and sweet,
                  or long and soft.
I couldn't tell but I thought and
shrugged my shoulders thinking,

                                   "oh' well,

My name, never mind what's yours?
                         it gave a hoot.  
So I said you look like a hoogle to me?

What's a hoogle you say,
well it's what
     this hoot looks like most of all.

    But really I just made it up.
                           "Shhhh our secret,
                 that's what it is a hoolgle

And you know what it gave out a happy
hoot,
                i think it likes its new name.

But remember if you meet this unique
   one, with a hoot.

No, it didn't bark
                            or woof or even
meow,
                  or blow bubbles like my fish,
                                  Pop!

But it will merrily walk
    and just hoot all-day and did I mention

it hoots in its sleep?
    That's why I'm awake writhing

Woman have
                  more ***** then men
most of the time.

       It's pity that

men are bigger *******
                      all the time...

Could I see in their eyes, as I clean up this momentary
lusting, for their inner demons to released this way.
I had visions of them shouting "4,

That was going to need a ladder and I hate heights.
Well up I went in slow motion, I saw the spaces between the
claret splashes in frozen moments of nothing. Now just a coat
cold and unwarming. From up here it looked like an
abstract painting I called it "echoes of relentless madness,

It was another call out this place off a million lights  
only a fraction were braking into havocs grasp. But when
their final instant came, till it was a single moment or an
eternity in seconds, the end result was the same.

I wore a fresh suit, each being deflowered within
moments. Others lives were centimetres from mine.
They were with me through out these moments, then I
threw them in the bin like a one night stand. I left them
behind , no reason to remember names.

This  one was different, the other one was just like a
water balloon of finest red had been tossed around the
room, this one...  Charred shadows of where like a wick
They had become a light in the darkness and consumed.

Not as much blood, just dry lumps of god knows what.
I breathed quickly, a hand print on the table slightly
scorched, but the hand print still visible reaching out.

This was more a scrap and polish like cleaning spilt
cheese now carbonized on the bottom of the grill.
A hot mind is not a good thing specially when a vent
of release givesthis pressure a release. I look at it and
think to myself? I called this one "charred thoughts ascending,

I once again leave them behind, this is beyond the
ordinary job. Knocking off for lunch i see the next
piece off where my work will take me. I see them
walking and in quietened haste I lunge and inflict a
flesh wound so some may think, but an artery I have nicked .

So gently I  grazed, wouldn't want then to bleed too quick
or to slowly for that matter. I abscond in my van, knowning
the call will not be long versed just another clean up
so many in this city of lights where I calmly change
each one. As to be repetitive there is no art form in that.

To be a cleaner and to see art where others only see death
or tears. I see a deeper visions the latest in the collection
I called them "Life running dry, this was an easy clean
up, but ill have to give it a rest i earned enough from the
clean ups to sit back and watch the world move by.

Till next my artistry is mused I will think of others that
have twerked my needing a suit hangs up, each with
the name of that creation. I can admire them anytime,
and just think of the anticipation that was needed for this
depiction of my thoughts and how they bled out.

What can I say I'm cheap,
I couldn't afford a 69 so I went
for the cheaper 59, 10% off.
      
                      Ye off the end result.


She was like tongue me deeper,
                    and she blew me.

Not like a vacuum hose,
more like blowing a birthday
                        candle out.

I'm moaning, she's coming.
Then a gust of wind in my face.

What can I say, she called me cheap!
And you get what you paid for,
I don't know why but my ***** are singed.....

To realistic for my liking that *******.

I'm three years old,
        my mummy asks me?

"What ya wanna be when ya grow up,

"A serial killer mummy,

After that she hide the knifes?

[Puzzlement] covered my face, now that's
a big word for someone who's three, spell
check if you want to see.....

"Baby you ok?

[Puzzlement,] "I know go me. She looked
as I did was this look was it somewhat
[contagious] "I know I'm three,

"Yes mummy I'm a cereal killer. I plunge
my spoon in to my breakfast till it seeps
milk then when I've finished I bury it.

"Bury it, yes in the bin mummy there
remains rot and make fertilizer.
"My mummy looked relived,

But I didn't tell her I bury them in the garden,
in the little black bags in the flower bed.
Decaying cereal feeding the flowers nourishment.

I wished to keep your fragile beauty
Static never to shatter moulded perfection
In stillness was your form suited most.

I kept you safe entombed in bubble wrap,
You had breathed before, but your exhales
Did fill the spaces that keep beauty frozen.

I will never let your allure depart even
Though, thought wasn't in your control
Anymore, I am your saviour forever more.

I cant resist the urges to look upon my
Figurine, a first edition, beauty now sealed.

What made me an atheist!!

I get the question a lot!!

And my reply isn't for the
                               faint-hearted

Giving back in return what the
         the priest gave me but in return.


                            Over the alter,
all you heard from his lips where
             profanities!!!

Oh Jesus,
          ****** it!!

holy mother of god!!

    He took the bread and his ****

drank the wine...

And I thought if a man of the cloth could
           say the lord's name in vain so much
how could there be a lord if

he was blasphemous to such a degree...

I left him tied to the alter, a cross down
his throat... swallowing his faith,
             but his god couldn't save him...

I did the sign of the ******* as I left....

Sniffing her **** cloth,
                    so fresh..

Hanging in the wind..
            
The moon shows him,
               there like flags on
                        a hill top to capture...

She wakes up in the morning
             to find that her Frenches

have gone a miss...

Hearing the sneezes,
             from her next door
but one neighbour..


"You perv..
                "Watch out what you sniff,


Her ****** never went missing after that day,

                           but her eyes did water a few
                                                              da­ys later...

Forgetting that the itching sneezing  powder
                                      wasn't in only one..
  
           and she giggled as she gently scratched.

incandescent gleam
obscurity fills blank voids
blanket of heaven

My brothers and sisters
My family of a million
With but one name
"Ant how you doing"
"Is there and  Mr A ant here"

We all walk the walk,
We all talk the talk,
But I want to be more,
But family is everything
In our kingdom all are one.

Cant I be more than a worker
Cant I be more than a warrior
Cant I be a hippopotamus
A kangaroo,
A duckbilled platypus
Ok, ok I went a little too far.

My queen is our mother
Creator of us all,
Speaks to us in the great hall
"My children"
"You do a mother proud"
"Remember we are one"
"But we are singular to ourselves"

Mother is right I am me, not the
Same, but we are family. We are
Individuals but part of something
Bigger, I walk off happy in my hill
Knowing that I am more when I
Have my family.

"Hi Ant"
*"Right back at ya Ant-on"

Passion upon sins,
Flesh nectar of love tasted,
Thirst quenched upon lips.

Upon the blackened reeds
She sits upon her throne
Where all is blackened roots.

She is the angel among
The darkness sitting, watching
Upon her blackened throne.

The days are of no consequence
But in darkness the world
Is real. She bides her time,
Woman upon a darkened throne.

She waits passionately for
The fall of man, and
The rise of the true leaders,
Obscured by man, she
Sits, she waits upon her
Lonely throne.

Mindful of others, but always deeper in thought.
You call it the folly of an inquiring mind,

Concern some may say diving to deeply
unsure of where this may take me.
Regarding the complexity of a frame.
I just see more than those who
open a door, and only see the other side.
So if the the hinges hold it what was behind.
Is it wrong to have an interest in more
than what others see as normal without
yearnings to find out what was, what's more.

Where I wished to delve deeper was only
an excuse for others to want it to wither.
never would I intrude, but my searching
eventually causes some unintended pain.
So I relent, I'm curious of the outcome some say.

Rusty you hide your
Self silently in the woods,
Watching the passing of
Time as nature touches
Upon your body work.

You are from a forgotten
Age of style, now an echo
Of past glories, as your
Tires flat and degraded
Your going no where fast.

A gem in the rough, gold
Worthy of rust, you feel
As this was your graveyard,
But eyes have seen your
Potential, seen beyond the
Surface, beyond your rust.

You will soon ride the road
Once more, you feel the
Air once again flowing over,
The road beneath you, speed
A rush as before, even though
the trailer is coming you can
Smell the tarmac of the road.