My looks were never a van-gogh.

                   But more the


abstract version of a never
                     published child.

I'm not pretty, never said I was.

But my colours
                     vibrant..

Hopefully I may rub off
                                       on you.

Looks aren't everything you know .

I inhale it, i inject it in to my heart. Its the dust
That penetrates my pores, that love I,ve been
Inhaling even though some times it has
Shattered my heart.

The dust of love is addictive, specially once
A heart is broken. More is needed to mend the
Cracks to mend the feelings. Shattered in this
Dust filled aching heart.

I am addicted to this dust, I need it for my heart.
I'm not the only one but there are dangers, because
If a heart is broken it can lead to your death.

Because some times the dust is not enough to mend,
The soul decays because it misses the other beat.
Fleeting and faint leading away from the heart.

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.

Haven't wrote in a while my
               words stutteringggggg.....

repeating the words

                     before that

duplicating expressive
                      alterations.

that sounded different!

A particular vibrant diversity,

worded, formulated..
           effectively resonating, echoing

in the same flow that seems different
     but cascading within contrasting similarity's..

Upon candyfloss clouds
You rest your soft head.

Gurgling, smiling as
Innocence plays out.

Taken from life, only
A breath breathed out.

You are on candyfloss
Clouds, peace in your
mind, eyes look down.

Little one, angelic one,
Taken before your time.

Look down and know, that
You are loved even though
On candyfloss clouds, you
Are and will be in the hearts
And minds of everyone.

Ever the musical wonderer, he happened
upon the perfect pad it harmonics were
excellent for the voice he had.

Through the day he would sing, he would
try other locations. The shore, but the waves
would  splash out his unique sound.

Trees were a challenge specially for those
rather stubbly knees. But he jumped and
Sang an for his troubles a splinter he had.

Under water was a choose but sound was
but bubbles that rose above, not sound but
more like burps with a tune singing out.

He went to his spot, many had he tried so
long had he been gone from home to long.
The best spot for the acoustics choosing of his voice.

But too his sorrow it was gone, had it been taken?
moved away? he sang on the shore in moonlights
glare as tears interrupted his angelic serenade.

But it had heard his voice and from the depths it
raised, it had missed its companion gone all these
days, it slowly opened it took a night and day.

For when it was ready the frog jumped with joy,
not with a splash, not a belly display. He landed
gently on this pad and his music did play.

The flower did blossom at such a harmony,
and not of the usual colours, for each petal was a
moment of this frog unique beautiful sound.

The waves were like vipers,
picking of weary sailors from
                                           the deck.

Plucking them with fangs of stinging
waves, taking those unsuspecting
                                            from the deck.

Drowning them in the sorrows
                   that suffocated them beneath the
        planks they were washed upon.

So many swords were never lifted
                             but fell submerged silently.
Falling beneath the honour that sank before them.

But like creeping ivy, they were woven upon.
                    Seaweed forests clasping upon those
weary travellers that sang into slumbering bereavement.

Still the forests that fed on the rainfall of what
             decayed falling statically from above,
                              nourishment in silent surrendering's.

If death is
the release,
is life the
torment for
the soul.

Eyes rose tinted delusions that stem on the everyday,
liquid figments smile on her minds exhaling breath
of what is contaminated texts of what her sight read.

She digs in the garden to bury her pain, the leafs are
falling on her memory as she fills in the graves of so
many that were never real just empty caskets of thought.

Her world was of roses that sat on the window fresh
with eager pleasing to the eye. But it was withered and
decayed as were her expectations of mundane  life.

She was temptation upon her self, lingering on past
appearances that had faded like seasons. Hers was that
time when everything wilted, denial tinted in eyes everyday.

Life is just a grain falling
          to an inevitable conclusion.

That is, every tide comes in and
                                       drowns it.

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

You smoother me , control
me, a step taken watched by
you, when alone I can sense
you in those places, where I
wish you weren't meant to be .

Your in my mind , I cant escape
you, everyplace I go I see you.
All you do is stare, I cant cope
with it, a wound that I cant hide
I want to scream to escape you
tonight.

I run, but I cant out run, as your
there before I know I'm where I
want to be. Tormented is my soul
due to you, I don't know why I
cant escape you who is me.

I trust no one without you
Stabilizing my thoughts,
But you have turned to ash
Now within the winds.

No longer with the living
Without you I wilt, I am
Less than I was. But I still
Miss your breath.

Could I motivate without
Your words to keep me in
The minds of reality, I am
Lost upon an ocean of thought
Without you I will capsize and
Loss my grip, without you I am lost

I wish not to be taken in my
sleep, stolen away. not knowing
its my time as in the dream state
you had taken me away.

I would feel that like a thief you'd
stolen my life not knowing that you
were there, just that you took my
last moments away, never to open
my eyes once more my last sight
taken from my gaze.

The day time is the time I wish
for I can see who takes me and
say good bye to all. I could see
and hear my last breath and
word goodbye.

I would gladly be taken as you
would hold me by the hand, see those
who loved me as the light took me
I would not fall.

Please not in the night like a thief,
taking my last moments stealing me
away in darkness, for me daylight is
the time I wish to move on to see you
as taken beyond the veil and I see it
all.

The mosh pit of the dammed,
They Hunger the osculation
Of life's lingering rhythm.

Skeletal remains heave remnants
Of decomposed self at the stage
Degrading what they leech upon.

But as life throws its yearning
Descending into chaos's pit.
Flesh now bone finding no peace.

Directions swerve from visualizations of
reflections that are kept
                                          within the above.

                Dismay verses  acute desperation,
stray reflections deflect
                                          systematic dictation.

Where all shards of what lingers before us,
pair unto parts that collect for us to
                                                               discuss.  


But eventually  they show true form,
               cut deeply they delegate in uniform.

I know they wait behind the
door, waiting till my spark is
gone, till i am no more. They
hunger for what I have craving
it for they are knocking at my door.

When that time comes,
escorted to that place not
of the living world, the next
place I wish not to go. I can not
escape their  grip so cold it freezes
me to my spiritual core.

Tormented for what I have done,
in the days of the living, lives ruined
to me a game now I must pay in kind
for the sins that were done.

The things that have earned me  
a place of torment where my soul
will never find peace, torn to shreds
my soul in pieces burning for evermore.

I lost you like a breath to the wind
a moment I breathed you in.

Then just like that I exhaled and you
were lost to me just another spirit in
The wind.

I tried to hold you in, not to expel your
Essence, but when I blinked you were
Gone, and I miss you lost to the winds.

Eyes opened
To new Life,
I wept a moment
Then  I cried happiness.

I am an individual not a duplicate or a copy
of what others wish me to be.

I am an individual
             not a duplicate
or a copy of what others
                   wish me to be, I'm my own self.

I am an
                         individual not a duplicate
or a copy of what others
                                            wish me to be,
                 I'm a repeat of what was said.

The winds gusted blowing that
Dam branch upon my window,

"Tap, "Tap, ".....Help,

I with hesitant breath move the
Drape, and see nothing but arched
Twigs teasing my window pain.

With relief I walk to the top of the
stairs, Hearing a knock on the door

"Tap,  "Tap, "......Help me,

I cling to the wall rising upon the spy
Hole to find only pitch darkness and
My heart relaxes its grip upon my throat.

I step upon the porch, unseen wire flaring
In the wind, like a viper encircling my throat.
I momentarily clasp the door and tap.

"Help me,

I'm picked up like a doll as the wire entailed
Upon the tree thrashes me around, higher
it pulls. And a window I tap with gasping breath.

"Help........,

I know what happens as I lapse in to
unconsciousness, was it my imagination
Or did the drape move an obscured face.

"I was my own witness to my single moment,

I swing like a leave in the wind, hanging silent.
I am the last leaf to fall, cold and dead.

Look at your own
                       doorstep,
before wiping your
                  feet on others.

I don't sludge through
Through the tripe

          Of others..    

I'm no **** to another's words.

     I only like what is pleasing to my
Eyes.

       I'll never sleep upon another's words      
        to gain syllable reflections...

If you write in manners of worth,
       I'll read every word.  

But I'm no where of vocal stares,
       If you read me it's cos you gain
                   Something from my words .



If you only came here for pity reads...


       Well guess what.
               This isn't a pity stop.

Read me for my worth because
       I'm the better view.
            No pity view i'm
                
The words who you,d  wish
                                you'd read.

You hit me like its fun,
Having you in my life
Is making the strands
Of my sanity come undone.
  
No apologizing, like it was
Ok to smack me up. What have
I done to earn this lack of respect,
I thought you loved me,
Where has it gone.
  
"I could leave you"
"But I have no where to go"
But may be it was only in anger
That you do this,
I don't really know.
  
I wish to heal, the bruising fades,
As well as my hope, you think it
Normal but my life is not as I
Wished, I am nearly lost all hope.
  
A last hit was the one that
Finished the job, where once
There was love, that feling now gone.
I lie still on the floor
The last hit and my life now **gone.

No longer do I walk to the shops I voyage on
the motions of the wind and fire...

For lame understanding I cant be bothered to expel
breath in motions of the foot....

I envelope my surroundings in a cage of movement,
Caveman inventions lunge me forward.

Attaining my desired destination, the hunter
gatherer in me finds its prey in the frozen section...

I am man and I bring the bounty back to the hoard,
pleasant smiles, as flesh is devoured on soft rye bread.

I walked you to the door it arched
like your back every time  
                                        we touched.


But we never found our way to that
                                          exit of tonight.
No we never reached
that undesired destination.
                           Ending what had begun
even before the first steps
                                        through the door..

Instead we climbed upon each other breaths,
a stairway of seduction seemed to cling
          to our looks,
          as if I where the spider in your web.


I could have drove you home tonight.

But we rode a different road.
We never stopped at the red lights
              as we turned off our headlights off,
and guided each other in the darkness
                                                      to mornings light.

I am a whisper in a room of echoes.

My chamber may be vacant but I still look
at the pictures on the wall.

Windows see everything but only light enters.

Would I touch upon the emotions that are
lost within a pond of ripples, that no
stone has been thrown upon, they are silent.

I'm still me but I am lost in a prison of my seclusion.

They may have this moment,
          immature gestures of
  what lies beneath there misgivings,
of pushing me against the walls of
                                    my self-esteem.

They may have this moment,
           glancing words,
          reverberating, like fingertips
                      on crystal shards,
within the static frailty of
                                        my self-worth.

But my moment was when,
                            I realized I wasn't
                                          broken
                              damaged,
It was all about there need for control
on a world that has none.
        And I'm no longer there's anymore.

My words of thanks, yes your quite charming!
With your systematic verses, but you need to
vary oneself.
As you sound like a repeat of
                       last nights show... And repeats get boring.
So what manner of vocabulary, abusive motions
do you want to play out?? if none please just move along...

I saw the sunrise through a keyhole,
      opening every possibility to

a new day.


Unlocking the potential
                                           of what opened
                                                   before me.


Remember its to the door that yearns forward,

                            but the keyhole.


Opening new possibilities that were once locked,
                                                         ­               before you.


Always look though keyholes at sunrise,
                        for they show you the possibility of





                                     what can be unlocked.

A heart hidden
   Behind tissue bleeds
     Tears of departed love.

At peace were moments now pieced together
through emotions were now threw in confusion.
of missed reflection like a mist now clearing.
Dew drops hung on my mind due to lingering contemplation.

Uneducated is the one preserving
            the other as lesser than they.
For without knowing,
              you are less educated
               in self than in words..

Never tear a deliberation
for those who discipline themselves on
                                               others misery.

Nothing is worthless in the eyes of a mother.

Envy of others is a delusion of there weakness,
                          just look them in the eye and smile

say in silence,


                     ******* Gesture

And smile while walking off....

It always starts with death, the pheromones do
Dance on the whispers of air. It beckons to those
Of appetite to seed this silk husk of decay.

They do dance upon its pungent rigor-mortis,
Cultivating the void that was life. The calling
Of a flowering beckons as petals of white cascade.

And then this poignant collection of events collided,
Bursting forth and what was but decay did feed life.
A collage of fragrances hit upon the air and wept.

These petals of silk did tumble upon the flesh and absorb
The sinews to bone. Once they had danced they, withered
Into corruption. Drifting onyx lifted fleeing to  the wind.

I sit here whistling Dixie sitting down ,
                  a concerto of noises sang out.
No smoking signs loiter the walls,
                  for obvious reasons it has
a picture of a posterior with:
              "No naked flames allowed"

Then there is the score board,
               Beginner,
                            Boaster,
               Legend the hardest to claim.
For that score you have to clear out
not only the downstairs, but wake
those upstairs from slumbering sleep..

Me I'm a boaster, that's when the doors
shut, and all I hear from the sitting room
down the hallway is:
                                    "YOU ******"

Let me just tell you that air freshener
                               is not in my home.
Do you know the smell of both mixing,
lets just say never spraying that again.


Some sit and think, some even sniff there stink.
Me I just read a few pages of a novel on page 163,
we all have our routines  but me I mostly
sit here whistling Dixie sitting down,
                             as concerto of noises sing out.

Adorned on self, it hangs like wind
on the breeze statically woven on
form. Embroider of linguistic thoughts,
all in notions that are enriched but still
never totally fallen on its emotion.

Enhancing what was just embellished
reflections, now seen in the movement
of a yearning to expel but never descended.
just  passive in  the needing of its expulsion.

Ornaments that hang on my tongue, kept
in staled rejection. I only want to garnish
your yearning with what I'm trying to
embellish with these spoken words.

It lingered in the twilight expanses beneath where I rest my soul and head,I heard its mumblings, incoherent not upon my ears was either understood.

Clinging to the expanse of what was underneath,  it was a warm night
but beneath was breath chilled and frigid that my hair stood on end.
I saw its exhalation from form to nothingness.

My mirror in the corner I would swift fully gaze, but all I saw
was darkness and those eyes that followed me across the bed.
Like a cobra it did gaze upon my movement hypnotic in essence.

Wanton curiosity of a mind so young, a finger, a thumb, a hand now I wave under the bed. But nothing heeds my gesture under my creaking mattress i wave in oblivion by nothing signals back.

I rest my weary eyes, then slumber to those places where my innocence does dramatize the actions of the day. but while the blinds are closed it reaches from its depths, it knows i now slumber its time to play.

I walk on the ice skating as I go, but then my feet are constrained and as the moments pass, i am entombed from below to up above, but just before my sight freezes i see a hockey puck, shattered in tears i fall.

Awoken by this moment  gazing upon the floor, there is no darkness
as there was before. Instead there is light, orange in  its glow, it
seem warmer till engulfed in combustion and I awaken once more.

A merry go round of images one as contorted as the former, now I seem to be on a merrygoround of distorted reality. Concluding this is a dream as i moved from one cunvulising moemtn to the next.

I say "No more, as my eyes begin to bleed, as fingers sink deep into the pots. "There is no going home for I am here now till i drain you till your death, I awaken once again to a place I know the best.

But I am indenial as where i rest only faint whispers are heard upon my breath, for this thing that lingers beneath has all but finished its ingestion of my essence as i have only a few ceaseless moments left.

Darkness envelopes me, I'm a prisoner within in a cell, in the middle a bed. A place to rest a weary head, I had fallen prey to that which hungers sleep. For the energy it took now I'm now in tormented death.

Death played hopscotch he threw his
touch then his feet grasped upon the
souls of mortal man and there hearts
were stopped twelve steps of death.

He lifted his cloak so to see where
to jump, one jump, two jump third
jump and three drop dead like fallen
trees they fall in the breeze.

He could play this all day the pebble each
one a heart, he lifts it up jolting in his
bony fingers and then looks as it beat
within his palm then crumbles it to dust.

Then anguish and pain the daughter of
death that help him in his role in the world
"father let us once again play our game,
He smiles and skips on broken spines.

Mother please, As decay walks over asking
what is this scream not of mortal breath?
Its daddy he is ruining our game,
off the children's play thing I say.

Death wallows as his fun is ended, and
once again death now cant end their  
suffering as his children once again
Linger there misery on human kind.

"My husband I no you meant well,
But children must learn from mistakes.
Now come with me and let us rest in
the earth and linger in corruptions embrace.

Bathed in the winds of butterfly
Wings, the breeze kisses my face.

A kaleidoscope of colour migrates
Touching every sense as I walk.

In the tall grass swaying like ebbing
Waves that tickles my thighs.

Shaded green from above, resting
Upon this oak, we both breath.

Alive yet one is free and stationary, while
The other is a prisoner always able to move
To any and every place.

I had slept the transcendent hibernation
encompassed in viscous lullabies of slumber
But the tide had changed and I was aroused
In panicked awakenings my eyes opened wide

In thoughts of confusion I was not of sound
reasoning, clambering on a wanting of breath I
lunged at what was abundant around myself.
Fear eclipsed my thoughts and I was static in motion.

Silence greeted my realization as I inhaled a single
ending breath, but I was of calm as I gained another.
I was of this realm of immersion, the mists of
confusion cleared and I swam into the deep.

The photo on my dressing table
       will never hold the weight of
                                          my heart.

Only your voice lightens the moods
          of loneliness, even though
your here I need you closer than afar.

There are pieces of me that aren't
           complete, I cling to your pillow
wishing your head settled upon it.

"I miss you,

But you never answer back,
        I await your shadow to cling
to the doorstep and lighten my worries.


That moment ill cling to, never wishing
       to let you leave again, till the next time
you are called away   "I will always love you,

fluffy pillows white
souls caressed gently above
my wings silken touch

You looked at me father, weren't my
eyes the reflection of yours, did I not
     smile in glazed view at the words
misunderstood but still a vibration
of what I heard in the womb of mother.

Yet, just because I'm not of male,
                        but female without my choosing
you want me to be just a memory.
Like a conception of love was voided
                         at the moment of my birth.

Woven in a blanket, angers voiced echoed
              I felt the taste of the air linger in
distasted tears as mother picked me up.
            kissing my lips, her tears of
                        pain and regret I could taste.

But father had me now, I was in the cold
             I felt his love dissipate.
             Silence was his voice now.
Not even a gentle goodbye,
but like yesterdays newspaper discarded.

Tears cradled my face, not understanding
             why this cold night grasped at me
more lovingly than fathers last embrace.
My expressions silenced as I ran out of tears.

I heard a mumbled voice,
                           not of father or mother.
But a gentle one of age, more secure in
the visible definition that I was a girl.
Holding me tightly, I heard others words.
I wasn't alone any longer, but what was my fate.

My daddy, told me the tale of my birth,
           and the implications of what back
then seemed like weakness.
But I have shown the world, that no matter
your gender it still has equal worth.

The past is a scar that still hurts,
        Never knowing my true family,
if they could ever have been called that.
But this family, this gentleman and my
        my loving mother, kept me warm.

Now I'm older, old mistakes of culture
        and religion are melding with modern
society, no longer are girls left to fend alone.
We are seen through eyes of love and compassion.
Not through the eyes of an abandonment of love.