On wings of expelled  vapour
did they venture beyond the hangings
of gravity and they ascended to heights
that blended with thoughts of fulfilment.

Wisps were expelled till exhalation
was exhausted, and slowly what arose
descended to it eventual beginnings.
But declining was harder than was imagined.

Pain elevated as the friction of reality swept
over, and where the vapour once filled there
interior now only emptiness did eviscerate the
stable mentality and wished only to ascend again.

*"Beauty of a dream, that is a nightmare of reality,

I have memories abandoned
They no longer have a home,
They are homeless in a mind
No longer in need of this
Wondering thought.

They only wish to be an idea
To have a purpose, in a mind
That ignores them. Looking
Down on them as they don't
realize that it could be them, a
Memory abandoned no place
longer in this mind.

But as the fading is almost
Complete, a recollection of a
Past thought brings this
Memory back. To pictures,
Of smells, and a place nearly
Forgotten. Once again a memory,
Now with a home in this place
Called the mind.

Pushin my baby on the swing each one way,
        Bullets passing the wind not punching
me and my baby. But the fools be running
like they could outrun fate.

They can't escape the crosshairs of
  ill-prepared revenge.  
    Cadavers hit the floor blood outlines
that turn white after they felled.

I kept pushing my youth, hoping
she'd grow to an age where she
           could push her own.

But every day I playing Russian
   roulette with her swinging,
    me pushing her further so that
she's higher than the gunshots


          as they always hitting lower.

Today I was pushing her, she in her nikes,
     swinging her higher than death could
catch her tight grip...

But my neighbor she hanging low, catching
two unfollowed friend requests  flying through
the air, one in the thigh, one between the thoughts,

I kept pushing as her shadow swallowed by her
folding on the floor, her baby swinging slower
but still alive.

         Blue took her to her daddy, hope they
find out who they are as she had more than
           one by another man...


I m still here pushing my baby on a silent playground.
      No one comes here, that's good for me.
   pushing her low as there isn't a problem
of drive-bye byes... No more *******, no one to ****.
                  There is just me and my baby pushing..


Come on baby its time to go home,
                 the road is white, and we aren't
going to our usual place...


R.I.P to those who never didn't do nothing.
          


Another drive-by, grills smiling as flashes
greeting shaded window frames,
                                          hanging low.

She bled his love, showed
What it meant to be in the
Moment.

His words were silent,
His heart bled upon
her, it was slowly losing
The beat it once felt.

They were guilty of much,
Of lust. love, anger was
There undoing but some
Times passion wasn't enough.

She bled his love, showed
What it meant to be in the
Moment, as the blade stopped
His heart and love ran dry.

If love
         Was steps
                         I would
                                   Climb each
                                                     And every
                                                                      One to
                                                                                Step in
                                                                                          To
                                                                                            Your waiting heart....

Whoever thought the fly was the prey,

never thought it was a diversion..

The sacrifice of one
                                         for the many...

So many wings flying through threads...

till the spider free falled to the death

                                            of inevitable fate...

Sticky pips coated,
    Groping this Apple

No biting only licking

     Teasing her with

My tongue..

They would hold their  hands up
High in search of golden nuggets,
Their dummies held up to the sky.

The map showing them where X did
Mark a spot, they crawled on their  
Merry way, through sand they did
Crawl, slowly never would they stop.

They didn't want it in a skull *****,
X marked the brown pongy spot. A
Bottom full of sand would slow a
Pirate baby down, making them
Uncomfortable  crying as their treasure
Unreached they would have had to stop.

They crawled under fallen trees, through
Shrub and looked up, and saw the branches
Reaching for the sky. They were nearly
There they had crawled for 20 feet and
Stopped twice for nap times, as it was
Far away in baby steps not like big foot.

They had reached there goal with dummies
In hand, many dangers faced but together
As a crew they got to the treasured land.

X was their goal and it did mark a spot,
Where the golden nuggets shined in that
Spot. Where the rusks had that golden tint,
And that yummy taste as they went down
With a bottle Of hot milk in hand that really
Hit that nap time spot.

Dummies held up high they had reached that
Promised land, where treasure was eaten an
Then nap time was coming close to hand, gogo
And goodnight.

We ink the words till the thoughts dry,
             and what is left is an imprint on
                               paper of what is now an echo.

I never looked both ways
             when I fell in love..

And was hit hard
                   bruised & cut
         I healed.

I looked both ways
              when I saw you
on the other side.

This time I waited.

       You asked me
               why I crossed this
road again?

And I said because if the
            chicken can do it..

With that she laughed.
      smiling she asked

"Would I cross any road,

I said, only yours to see what awaits
                                 on the other side

"I love you,* its not just a word,
Its a thought, an emotion that I live
each moment your in my existence
*"I love you more everyday,

When the sun slumbered beyond the falling
horizon, a deranged mentor of those it wondered
over below. False expressions were given in tribute
to that which watched with acidic smiles of their  
persecution beneath its gaze.

In its fading they were collected in truest outline.
Negatives of perceived imaginings, pigmentation
descended from form like coloured petals
turning to dust. They were the abattoirs of this
now discoloured imaginings.

Sweetened voices of lullabies were replaced by
disorientated shrills, that reverberated within
the halls, they lumbered in there contorted abodes.
Nesting into corners of despair that blossomed on
them with hues of isolation.

Feasting on warm carcasses, weeping with
trepidation at this momentary freedom they felt.
There home of tattered souls that were cleaved
from prey, no peace in death. They hang at
the windows clinging to lost hope.

Time was a nine tailed mistress that whipped them
into the binding once more. For the arising was upon
them, they were lacerated within colour once more.
All that was flaked away and became as it was.
Smiles on there faces paying tribute to that above.

On shaded oaks his hooves he rested
leafs of summer where birds had nested,
with palms he held as fingers gently nestled
asking those who gathered of what was requested.

Wind blew silently through elegant wood melodies,
as creatures listened to soft melody all understood
that he was a creature of lore just like those surrounding.
This musical endeavour, his skill of tune was outstanding.

All moved to these whispers that lingered through air,
as fairies did dance and leafs did sway here and there.
The mood was jubilant as all were in relaxed feeling,
his rhyme of song had been to all so very appealing.

Look boys its not a toy, you hit
to hard it,ll swell and it'll  be soar
for a few days for me or you not
to touch.

Yes its hairy like a rain forest
some times in the winter I leave
its coat on as frost bit lips hurt
like me kicking you in the nuts.

Summer comes and then I do
trim, I leave a line nicely shaved,
I leave it there so you know
where to touch, its not a hard
place to find hairless or not. But
my **** is in the same place, so
be gentle if you touch.

You need to stoke the fire, kisses
caresses and words of lust, cos if
its not wet then the fire hasn't been
stoked, fingers need nails cut, as
anything sharp put up will lead
to a knee in your face or nuts. If
you try to put it in dry, It'll hurt
me but split your skin you thinking
I'm on but its you bleeding which
will hurt very much.

Its not your **** bank, it does
take deposits but you don't have
to jack hammer it, use your hand
with **** if you fancy it hard then
play with your hand.

Its a thing of beauty so treat as
such, respect the ****** and do
take care its your wet patch for
you to poke but try hurt it and
my nails will grind your nuts to dust...

In the dark we are all strangers
with just a voice, never seeing,
judgment of others only by the
tone of a voice.

The darkness covers are faults,
not of our own. but what others
would think, it is a cloak that
hides us in a blanket of secrets.

Would we touch around, hands
to one self, or feel others features,
woman or man, does the voice match
what you thought the features would
be like.

Darkness is a blanket that hides
misconceptions of others, hiding
religion, skin tone, looks are nothing
in darkness as this all melts away, for
in darkness we are one and the same...

The little vacuum was happy as could be, he was
Being treated to a trip where he had never been.

It was out side where the light was real, to feel the
Air on his hose, would it be sunny, cold, blustery.
Excitement was growing his cord extended with
Help of a friend the extension cord Barry.

So the door opened eager to see what could be seen,
Was the outside world all he had heard sites, sounds,
Smells, now he was cleaned regularly he could take
In the smells and sites he was about to see.

They stepped out side it was all he had dreamed no
Longer in the box time to play to be happy, there was
Big Garry the family car gave me a wink with the
Indicator when he saw me.

Time for a clean was spoken, As like me  not tidied up
Much, but now was his turn to smell fresh and clean,
Garry was big but not much older than me. Beep, beep
Went the horn, was that the neighbour couldn't be my
Car as I'm  not in the seat.

So we started to vacuum the mess was not the best but
Clean Garry would soon be, Then left alone as the phone
Rang, alone with Garry, then out of the corner I saw you.

Approached we were, I didn't like the look of this  person,
Specially as they had waited till we were alone. my Daddy
Told me never talk to those you don't know, as a stranger
Can be dangerous, not friendly.

He spoke saying hello who left you out here all  alone,
I hovered but could not be heard by my family, he was
Trying to take me where I wished  not to go, but I was
Not alone, I had my friend Garry.

Garry did honk his horn his alarm startled the stranger,
Running out, to what could be seen, saw  what was
Happening and came to protect me.

The police were called, flashing lights did I  see, told was
He never to leave alone things that are part of the family,
As strangers are danger don't you see, Gary was lucky
As no keys did he have on he.

So stranger danger we both learnt that day, never to be left
Alone for any time, as it only takes a moment to be lost to
Be taken by those that are not family.



*--This was the story of how a stranger should
Never be spoken to, or go with no matter what they
Promise to give. The only people to talk to are family
And the polite police men and woman who will get you
Back if left alone or lost away from family--

I hate the cold, I hate the snow
I hate these lights that flash and glow,
I hate mince pies they taste to sweet.

I hate the fact i gain the weight as
There is to much to eat.
I hate to diet I like the way I am.
I hate  carollers that cant even sing,

I hate the thought of happiness and joy.
I hate the fact that 50,s films are played
On Tv is it me or do they just bore.
I hate that i have no chimney.
I hate the reindeer pooing on my welcome
Mat, doesn,t santa know how to clear up
His mess instead of me.

I hate the season but the cold one the
Most I hate that Christmas isnt in the
Summer when I tan and enjoy it the most.

I hate lots of things its clear to see,
But i do love my presents that santa leaves
Wrapped under my *Christmas tree.

I was the two lumps of
                     sugar

in her morning coffee,
    her lips moist..

Yet afterwards she
             was always tired.

                        Go figure.

Six feet under and no signal on
my phone, I was buried dead but
I just wanted to phone home.

The life of a corpse is no fun, there is
no air in this coffin, it has long since
gone.

I look around with the one eye left, my friend
earth worm tim, calls my other socket home,
now only my bad eye left. I would smile but
my lips are gone, they fell next to my ear
whispering sweet nothings for fun.

I wish I,d been cremated, just ash in the wind
think of the travelling I'd have done. But
no I'm six feet under, bored to death
for eternity, this is not the life i'd
want dead or alive this is just no fun.

"We walk upon the brown"*
Giver of life,
"We walk upon the brown"
Fertile mother earth,
"We walk upon the brown"
She feeds upon us when gone,
"We walk upon the brown"
We strolled on deaths mattress
So many below, for soon we will
Be one of those, while others
"Walk upon the brown"
Mother earth  feasts on death below.

Are lives are like follow the
dots, like painted by numbers,
are whole life are world is nearly
always selected out. We don't pick
what we want, its connected from
birth, where we live to what are
parents have done, dots connected
from number one.

Our lives are colored in this color
for our never changing life, mapped
out for what we want, but is there
away to make a change. To not
connect the dots to color are live a
different way.

How about instead of dot one to two
we connect randomly make life
different from what other want it
to be. we color by thought not by
numbers thought by others who
want are to turn out color are life
instead with fun.

We must paint our lives the way we
wish it to be, not  to be connected
as others see, we are our own person
where it was Grey bright Red with
a dash of Green, instead of a sheep
of dots, lets just have a picture made
the way we want it to be not drawn
by other live how we want to be.

We all see through the same glass,
the tint is just a little different with
each one that views it.

I bled the pen dry, then
just threw it away  into
the trash alone...

For a moment I felt bad,
I had held it for so long
ushered my thoughts.

But now I treated it like a
one night stand, used it
and changed the sheets.

I picked up a new one and used
it as I had before, the guilt had
faded but the ink had not.

As I asserted my standing, slowly like sheep being herded
to a cliffs edge. They were each fading in painfully
hostile silence.. Have you seen something knowing that
this time no matter what, there isn't another existence
there is just obliteration of all there essence..

It was like candles being blown out by a chainsaw,
but a candle bled in a form of censorship.
With me though there ending crept through me
like I was feeling every torn filament undoing.
These picture once idyllic, but they were more
notable of what was befalling them and they ran.

Well not ran, the better word would be phasing
from one place to another, but the end result was
the same, a snow storm of embers fell around me.
So beautiful were the shades of each collection.
The aura a little different around each one that
was falling within me, but it was getting to much to
handle so many memories tearing through me.

I looked at the surroundings, it like autumn
leaves setting in snow, vivid emotions seeping
beneath my subconscious, I could see every
moment till that final breath... everyone was
so cold though, that last lingering moment of
fear gnawing within me like paper cuts writing
nothing but expressing everything in nothingness.

I had accumulated so many endings, such sorrow,
some happiness that the lingering moments were
fading. But this garden of white roses was being
blemished, consumed from within. I could still
see these things clinging beneath the surface..

"One with the will to live,
                   must first except the will to die,

"Our first inhale,
                     is exhaling the breath
that will eventually be
                         the last motion we do before death"

Then as this thought progressed through me,
I started to remember things of before?
              before I was a human popsicle.
There were so many machines, so much death
paused in its final exhale. Faces in slumber,
flowers painted around this garden of oblivion.

I looked around, and the bricks of conscious
memories were corroding no longer ethereal,
what was formed now seemed to have vines
collecting within them, contorting what was
pure. I gathered my presence and heeded that
what ever was consuming this place.

"Roses wilt not because
                 of time,
          but they sense the fading of love,


These thoughts were gaining pace in my subconscious.

"Memories are some time better
                       left under the carpet
sometimes we can sweep pain away,

I started convulsing, then once again regained
my composure. was this me or the memories that
we ashes in my mind. From others now fluttering in
this garden of oblivion, that now heeds its name sake
so very well.

The shadows were now surrounding others like
sharks tasting that scent of blood, but here I think
it was fear..
I noticed that the vines were echoing, I slight pulse
of aura permeated from them. In my ignorance of
staring a shadow had lingered upon the painting
of my feet and within a moment a searing pain
collected within. this was it as I started to flake away...

But then it was not me it was the shadow becoming
fixated on me and then cracks illuminated from it and
what was once a lingering gaze of quite a stature...

"What the hell was going on??

It looked at me in vacant gratitude, then saw the shades
lingered upon it and once again ash fell, autumn leaves falling
on fire.. this time it was different though as I grasped upon
its figure it was whole again.. it was more than before though
it was as I was.. It spoke in soft tones..

"You are new here,
                      "Yes, how do you know,
"Because this place is meant for the dead,
         Where are you from?
"Where frozen in death, static decaying life,
               "I recognize you now you were in the stasis chambers.
"Yes, were in our own purgatory"
            "Our own selfish need to linger on more
                        than the clock is meant to count has  lead us here,


I pondered on his references and knew that,
I had done this out a need to exist longer than
time had given me, not thinking of what lay beyond
that notion.
I told him my name was lunar regent, and when I first
got here the place looked much different, but they touched
upon me they feel like ash. He stopped me there!

"You are the course of all what has perspired in this place,
"Me but I didn't do anything?
            "Your alive where we are dead,
                "Your like a lighthouse in the dark,
  "But everything you linger on, drowns in the evanescence,

I stood back in disbelief, I'm the villain!
The desecrator of this once tomb of thought
that has no reason to doubt their existence.
"How do we stop it?
Jump in the pools of shadow and do what you did
before, always grab on when the shades linger on
the new infused apparition of reflection.

We went through this motion, it felt like weeks,
as every emotion that had lacerated within me
fell like tears of happiness from my grasp.
We had continued, and new faces and gratitude
had graced my eyes.. what was once fleeting
images and layers of reflection and thought became
form the oblivion I once gazed up now was a garden
of reality...

"We are all grateful for this last moment.
to see ourselves as we once were,

"But we can feel the petals
                once again fading..

I asked with sorrowful glances of what could be
done as this would just be a reparation of what
just happened.. I found out that even though
clinically dead our brains were monitored and
thought is but energy and all lingered in the
oblivion of each others memories.
This wasn't an existence they wanted they just
wanted to die.. to be noting once again as it was
meant to be..


"We will use our residual energy to force you
out, to bring you back, please end our suffering,

I didn't have time to even speak as I felt immense
pain flood over me, and before I knew it i
was cradled on the floor.. So cold, my sight regained
and I saw other pods, rubbing the frost from the
windows seeing faces that feel like ash before.
This wasn't a life.. this was a garden of oblivion,
and I was the blossom blowing in the wind.


I reached over seeing an emergency panel,
gazing at it for what felt like eternity..
I pulled it, as I did alarms rang..
I tipped over a pod unused.. blocking the door way..
Then I collapsed in exhaustion.


Awoken by the sounds of a phone ringing,
looking up I saw unfamiliar faces.
"Sir are you ok
      "You have been through a traumatic experience.

"Yes, what about those other people,

               "They were already dead sir,

"Frozen echo's in a chamber of ice,
             "Pardon sir what was that?

"Nothing, how long was in there for?

"Two days.  "Two days,

Once I was well I found out each of there names
and visited there graves stones, laying blossoming
flowers on each one.
Your at piece now friends.
                  There is no garden of oblivion only peace..

I walked of realizing, that life is every moment
every breath is one granted by our willingness
to see a new sunrise. Mine will come to pass
and i will be silent not an echo or in darkness
just a memory fading slowly away.

A playground of needles
A flower blossoms reward
Addiction to death

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

I  wore the snake as a noose...


******* gravity...
  


                 I fell hollow and empty...

I urinate on your weak wording,
not out of disrespect but I find that
this is all the apologise that they need.

Can I give your thoughts merit on mere
wording, No.... they brain damage me,
to a Neanderthal grasping of should I touch fire.

I try to inhibit my attention but I wrap my
mind around a lamp post and my thoughts
bleed swiftly out on the road till they die..

They are like full beam on a dark road leading
to the eventuality of my mind blinded thinking
how could this have been shone before eyes.

I urinated on your word just to put the fire out
that was burning on the page, charcoal words
were washed quickly from my now numbed mind.

Evicted due to his past, for a time he was convicted
conceited were words spoken, as words repeated
Lost in the moment, this had come with a cost.
Now he walked out, one thought of why and how,
Spoken were words to a neighbour, a look now broken.
He motioned her with a nod seeing no emotion
The past was a moment his dreams now gashed
hollow thoughts his companion, this so hard to swallow.

Wisps of lingering Cimmerian shade
Succumb to moonlights glaring decay,
Angels feathers arise in onyx death
Beauty taking final breath.