Lonely is a statue in a room
of movement, I'm static in loneliness.
The collection of others looks onwards.

My smiles static on the reflections
gazing in my heart. Never showing
others the loneliness woven inside.

I want to be more than a ornament
in a room of life. Finding it hard
to breath in a room I'm drowning within.

Why cant I be the flower that radiates
instead of the crystal rose, whose petals
never glisten in colourful  hues of life.

Woeful of the tides of life my ink
had stuttered on the shores of nothingness


But like the shores they flow many ways
and mine just washed the negativity away


I'm Back......

I'm in a coffin of thoughts,
          entombed within my plot.

I scream in loneliness,
           but the soil of confinement buries me.

A head stone reads my reflections,
           *"Here lies my voice, buried in torment,

Time is  diluted concept of reflection
for even though I live in the same moments
of existence. If I  would be propositioned by fate
to be ended yet in your moment of my passing
I would be already a moment even though of seconds.

I would be a vast memory in your concepts of
what would have past, the waters of time are
shallow but the echo a variation on the scales
of our perceiving intuition. I could say a moment
but it was an echo in a time done or to still to come.

I do not see that which others
Do see, blindly do they follow,
Am I the fool or is it thee.
  
I follow no one but myself, not
Imagined to belive in some thing
Unseen, but I know that the strength
I have comes from me.
  
I will not folllow that which tells me
That which I can do and see, to believe
In others is the only thing that is real
As they belive in me.
  
I will not be the sheep that follows
The shepard, as what he does not
Say is you are the meat, the bone, there
Are many that will follow but many
Are just meat.
  
I follow my own path, not what
Others tell me is right in a book,
That i should follow there word as
It is the right path for me.
  
I have strengh not in that which I
Can not see, but in me and those
That are close, I am not godless
  I just belive in me.

She crawls over me I'm in her
trap, her hands feel over me as
I lay on my back. She has the
control, where I have none,
she just looks at me like I'm
her prey, and she has only just
begun.

Her nails I feel against my skin,
where she feels blood does seep,
I arch in pain where the tender
bits lie, but she looks at me seeing
what she likes.

She kisses gently from ankle to
stomach goose bumps she sees,
then she bites. I feel her teeth as
bites deep my flesh feels like its
tearing under her teeth.

She lets go before I do bleed but
then bites not as hard grinding
her teeth. What had I got my
self in to she looks so sweet, but
this blind date was nothing but
her hunting the street.

She has the power over me, she is
the spider and I am the fly, stuck
in her web waiting as she tease
with those innocent eyes. What
will she do once shes done with
me, was I just a play thing, or do I
just close my eyes..

I missed a  repayment of love
so she evicted my heart.
Leaving my feelings on the curb,
mourning its passing now were apart.

It was good times the stillness the silence,
I was under a single tree, leafs fell but in
autumn colours. I was at peace in this
Serene place of my ideal thoughts.
No senses needed but what was around.

Words were silence, I had no need for the
Use of a living phrases in this place.
The leafs were like silk hankies flowing in
The air then evaporate in misty hews.
Peace I felt as I watched endless ones fall.

But then it happened the pulling, it affected
The leafs no longer silk but as they descended
Skeletal remains that screamed as they touched
The ground. My silence was like an echo now
Of before so much noise, I covered my ears.

But I felt, no longer the peace of death, my
Solitude now compromised with a yearning
To go towards the place that I resisted for so long.
Why did I have to leave this place of my yearning?
I was enveloped my serenity now gone.

I was silent, but then I breathed. so long had
I not needed this reaction. But realization
Began to sink in. I was born, I screamed out
Blinded in this moment of rebirth.
"I miss the silence of death, now I am reborn.

I** am without the one

Minus parts true
I cant believe this longing  
So lonely without you
Sweet smiles now missed

You compete me everyday  
Only Tears fall now  
Us equals only one.

Ill never write with the constructs
of ink no matter its shading,
                as it has no edges, no fear or freedom.

Instead I use a scalpel to cut clean words
even though not evidentially visible
             all cuts have meaning.


But ever metaphorical stain takes
         time to show its meaning..


You may not see what I mean
         i write in a different manner to


                                    you.
            

But let time show the interpretation
                     that was there but never understood


till you looked beneath the incise significance
               even if not seen now,

                         just realise its there...

If we reach high enough we can touch a star,
but If we linger with the
                                              decay of doubt.

We only heed our fears and stay land locked
in a cage of
                     immaturity.

Let us all reach further. be grown ups in a
place that yearns for us to
                                             climb out.

Boundless thought in a space of immeasurable
Conciseness, suns of reflection burn bright.

Stars in distance attention, so far but nevertheless
Still a twinkling in the cognitive awakening.

Traversing the distance to light up a moment
All that was a vast unlimited space of thought.

I wish for my life to have meaning
For my life to carry on,
I want to live, to be immortal.

Not in life but when I'm gone.

I want the breeze of my life to live
Past a moment when I am still.

But my memory my heratige stands
The test of time even though I'm no
Longer here, I drift on the breeze
Of time where my actions live on.

Modulated essence of vocalization
does not escape my seized lips.
Motionless they are without movement,
a corpse of inactivity are my verbs.

But when stain white sheets are lingering
in front of my eyes, I'm jested to use movement
of wording to express the convulsions that
expire from my mind to that below.

Seismic episodes expel and what was a land
of undiscovered wealth ruptures forth.
My expression is unformulated but even though
whispers aren't heard, ever syllable is understood.

Even though my vocalization is versed in silence,
every word is throw into the words understanding.
Hear me through muted words of expression that
vocalize from your eyes on my versed words.

"What Jim, you want what"*
I'm never going in that confounded
Contraption. Do you know what happens
When you step in.

Molecules spread upon the cosmos,
Skin is nothing then it plays jigsaw
With my bits, what parts does it miss.

Do you know the people that have
Stepped on this thing, its like sitting
On a 20th century public toilet.

"Bones what are you saying"
"You been taking your meds again"

Jim, Spock don't you raise that eye brow,
Don't think I didn't see that slight grin.

"I'll not get on that confounded contraption"

Where's the shuttle, its a metal tomb, but
Anything is better than beaming away,
Rematerializing just isn't my dam thing.

I could never swing from a 0..

   cos I'm always plus one,,

I'm never alone, the weight to much to carry
to an early grave,  

                    if I ever thought of that moment,
   they'd be my wings giving me flight.

I'd hang on for the breath on sunrise knowing
             that there is a new beam of balance.

That id not be dust,but I'd be a fresh breath
                        on the new day.


I'll neve be a zero hanging limp,
            as im always plus one.

Which the all of you breathing me through
              each daw, knowing there is more

to keep me going, even though I'm low you keep
                   me flying high enough to float


and not fall where a hang alone, silent...
    

   Know I breath each dawn and I'm never alone.

Normal is over rated,
              that's walking with the herd....

I'm no sheep of woolly needs
             I walk a field of individuality...

I feed on truth on the evidence that feeds knowledge,
              I'll never be a sheep that follows a herd....

Sod the fumigated thoughts
that were meant to be
                           reflected upon.

My original attention couldn't
be spayed upon, like it was
              cockroaches of originality.

I'll crawl upon every blank lyric,
that seeds every page with my
                         worded heart beat.

Never can my words be confided
to the delusions of others
                      repetitive replications.

I'm a broken piano
             missing keys..

But if doesn't matter what
            I lack I'll evolve
myself to play without
    
             the necessity of what
others use and make more of
            what i have rather

than what I don't and my symphony

           will be one to  astound
the sensibility of all who listen to it.

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.

Why do I have to be like you
a copy, I don't wish to be, I'm
dragged down in your image
I want to be myself not a copy
of you or others I want to be
myself not you.

They look with disappoint, of
who they think I am, thinking
I'm you.

A copy of a life not my own, a
mirror image of two, who want
to be themselves. To be free,
not labelled as the other independence
they want, individuality to walk
there own path not labelled like
either or one just me.

Empty silhouettes gather around
my footsteps sweeping me in the
current of what's expected of me.

I'm not a reflection of you, no matter
the pressures, pushing me into a tide
of despair, I'm going under do you care.

Collecting my discomfort, I etch it word
for word. Anxiety drains from my wrists
flowing within each syllable, scaring paper.

Ill never be a perfect copy of your footsteps,
drained of self, I'm a fractured reflection.
I'm tired, I need to be a reflection of me.

I've never  met you even though eyes have never collected
on the pools of reflection,

we are wondering echoes
                       never to witness the shodows of another.

But when I look in to a pool.
                      All I ever see is the impression of you.

We leave etches, imprints within those
                 when we relinquish
                                 our mortal form.
For every breath we took
               is still carried on the wind.
       Every word is still voiced,
                 echoes of our time
                 brush against your face.

But even though we are just a breeze
                                            in the wind.
We can still touch upon
                     that imprint.
Showing that even though
         were no longer here.
         you breath in our memory.

I have a moment to speak of my
restless moments as my features
gradually linger on the cloud of
wanton closer.

As my eyelids close down on the
soft blanket of the night and collect
my thoughts into slumbers of
                                                     *Zzzzzz's

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..

I was richer on the street than
any riche who swung his wrist
like a pendulum swaying like
others owed them respect.

Throwing leaves of wealth at
us thinking we were migrant
gardeners picking, cleaning up
there garden of smirking pity.

But while they slumber in sheets
of old slave mills. I have gratitude
that my sheets are full of my pain.
Full of tears, on cold woeful nights.

I collect myself in dignity of living
below others feet, but my riches are
what I've learnt, that put me higher
than any would be kings or thieves.

Words are that which  empower me
as I slumber on clean sheets of syllables,
weaving into my dreams. Then woken
by a librarian letting me humble my mind.

This place is my castle that never falls,
where I have risen higher than there feet.
But still I gaze from below, as I do not need
a castle, the streets are my pages this I speak.

I tell people
I'm smart,
they ask how
I know,
and I said the combined IQ of the voices in my head, told me so..

I'm  missing some stiches,  
                         flawed genetic patterns

On tethered dreams I hang upon,
                never really suffocating
on the mirage of my hallucinations
that I skim past.

My feet barely glancing as
      I stem for growth
   to reach this ill choice of wanting.
but  I wilt before slipping in to
         a suspended unconsciousness.

I see the colours of hope above me,
       but these illicit shimmers
keep me hanging from a goal
that could falter me.
       Tethered now within my own disappointment.

Yet I choose this path of least resistance,
    suspended between the ending of my
               continued existence.
Or to just keep looking up
        not seeing that my choices
will someday float beyond my reach.

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.

Wasn't the one that fit in,
   table to myself, an ocean
                          of pressed wood

that I float on alone....


But...


    You know there's always a but,

Never really wanted
                                  anyone
on
       my life raft of solitude.

I just look up and know
that
        there's
no one to obscure
       my view of life...

My ocean is a fishery of thoughts,
                                  that are mine.

Swimming into
  uncharted life choices...

But I'm fine alone,
I'll talk to the fishes
every now
and then.

But throw them back
             when

I've finished with them..

I'm vacant in the eyes of many,
                   they say I'm empty  
                                          without worth.

But worth is gained by gesture not
                  following a herd that feed on
the grass of  false verses...

If you are nourished with enough forgiving's
                   then you are full of nothingness
but indoctrinated into a truth of wordings false.

I believed in the early ventures of myth but then I
                   grew up, but those of other minds still
lingered in the past and don't contemplate proper truths.

I'm vacant they say, but I am a vessel of truths not of
falsehoods that cradle are minds,
                    rocking us into servitude, I'm free evermore.

"We should be a book of learning but we linger on
prescribed lies that we are hooked upon.

*"Freedom is a motion of truths, but some are the
sheep of conformity and sway with the heard.

Delusions of reproduced
                         legitimacy.
Never omitted,
                          but spoken.

Some can never respect
        there own misconceptions.
        expecting others
                           to drown silently.

I sailed a boat on the cloud of dreams
Fishing for those elusive moments,
Some call them dreams.

I waded through clouds of silent white
Where all that was caught were wisps
Of fleeting wishes that never were delusions

But as white turned to lightness of grey
Then to the throws of harsh reality, as ideas
Became electric striking around me.

I waded through the clouds of turbulent
Moments,  impulsiveness struck upon
Me from above, and I leapt from the safely.

I was in calm white sinking in to oblivion,
Only my thoughts kept me afloat, then I
Relaxed, let go, and sank into nothingness.

I awoke, confusion clouded me as if recalling
That moment a sank beneath, and my thought
Was deluged, but I am here , I wish I was there.

incandescent gleam
obscurity fills blank voids
blanket of heaven

When the vicious breath of light
           devours the twilight
its screams into the eroding
                       collapse of its beauty.

The luminosity never shows you,
            never sinks you into it breath..
we only gaze at its refection's.

But when the candle fades and the
             wax becomes grim,
      then the pillow once again suffocates.

Within the place of onyx moments,
             beauty envelopes everything.
And above what was veiled shimmers
       beyond our comprehension and we gaze...

Hitting you up side the head,
concussion from my lyrical spread.
You got cerebral haemorrhaging as
my words hit you with a even spread.

Your ears are bleeding,
            dry mouth as nothing said.
My words drip from your ears
                       enough you said.

But im not the one taking
                weak **** shoots.
You tried an failed,
now your get syllable assaulted.

But no prosecution,
cos the only
          witness is incoherent mumbling.

If you come at me again,
better get those words sharpened,
       cos they need to get  past

your breath.

As they blunt at the moment.

My words are a razor cutting your throat,
     you'll bleed out but, ill smother your

Haemorrhaging silence,
On bottom of my shoe.
As i throat choke you,
                  listen to that...

Its the silence of you,

And I looked at my watch,
      your the last second past,
uninteresting and not worth remembering.

You kept me entombed in a coffin of thought
Never free cockroaches of doubt crawled
Around my chained thoughts.

The nails rough on my mind, jaggedly etching
oxidized stagnation of my embalmed understanding.
Why would you keep me in the dark.

I am solitary in this shallow wash of waning moments
Could I just crawl in to this sea of disbelief and
Drown slowly in my entombed darkened thoughts.

I love you he texts, the glow
shows, gripped in each others
arms under the light of each
others phones.

Eyes rarely touch, when all that
is looked on is there other love,
which is a Samsung or Nokia phone.

We should get together she reads,
even though in each others arms
they could not be further apart...

We need to sober up
             from the liquor
                               of lies.

And see that which was regarded,
               was through
               pain tainted glasses
               now broken.

Twenty somethings
         were neve enough

to stockpile the realisation,



                       that I needed


          more words to tell you that....

I'm mute to the content
of others misgivings
            of my silent ego..

Clambering upon my
             every concern,
  yet I'm deaf to their every syllable.

But in reality I don't give a flying ****...

My words maybe silent
          but the ripples carry on....

With every shore that I reach,
                     even though restrained.


Every wave is inevitably felt...
            no matter its touch.

We are woven in
                     different cloths
that fit us all.

For we all wear the same
       skin individually.