I saw eternity for that
                           moment
A singularity of reflection.

Hearing the breeze,
                I heard there voices
whispering,
       don't let go daddy...

But they were a mirage
               of my subconscious.
I was a bird with no wing
                          for which to fly.

But in that moment I wanted
                        to live, to breath
A step had been taken
         regret solidified on my features

Sometimes we wish to take that
                                  faithful step.
But sometime we need to
                                  step back..

Realize that even though now
                               is anguish,
that another day dawns
                   and life's petals fall.

We need not take that moment
                             into the breeze.
Let our contemplations
             mould our reflection,.

And realize that step isn't worth it.

Entwined, sewn was life's moments I tripped
At awkward times never knowing that it was
Strings fate pulling me another way.

Can I pull this twine, knit upon its silks, and
Stitch a heart that I could hold close to me, but
A tread always lose an emotion coming undone.

I followed my thread through life's turns never
Did I let go, my string I found finished where I
Never wished, upon a stone it was meet.

A love I missed upon fates twists, still we are
Connected, a love displaced but love is eternal
And in the next life upon string we will meet.

I'm an equation
      that no one added up to.

But you where one
that multiplied the meaning
            of what it was to love.

Never taking way from life,
             you where my equal.

We where a sum of parts
            that made sense.

Every body changes, we
change as we grow, are
we wiser than before or
do we take immaturity
with us as we grow.

Is it misunderstood that
we don't conform to what
others say we should be,
just being are selves serious
or funny.

We are who we choose, I am
me, you are you, we will be
that we wish as we grow older,
we some times grow wiser but
for the fun loving we don't
mind playing the fool..

Poetry isn't exclamation marks
            or full stops.
            its the words that's pour on
the page and mingle with emotion.

We all verbalize our words in ways
            that aren't to others contemplation
but the synergy of words doesn't need
            anything but the emotion of words.

We escape the confines of the flesh
         through the skin of the dead
for we read unseen words woven
                   like a tapestry on them.

But you can only read what you
have vanquished, and momentarily
it will tell you the future of
                              8,409,600 breathes.

But once the last one expels you must
read upon another for the future has
                                          repercussions.

Only the dead can tell you the words
of the future as there's was taken for
                                my continuation.
I have read many words but soon
                       I must read them again.

My future out ways yours, for I must
breath and read the words of a future
                                      you'll never see.

Waving my tattered coat among
the waves of anger that floods
                                               past me.
I surrendered before this even began.
           homeless lullabies filtered though
my sleep the screams and echoes of
           a singular piece of lead silencing others.

But the azure bleed cerise on the pavement.
            Taking identities of fallen heroes,
never questioning but shaded beyond morals.
A tide was crashing upon the pavement of
                                                                     society.


There didn't seem to be a life of Black & White.
           but the fact that I seemed to be less
of worth than others pigment.
I held my tattered coat visible to those who
                          where dressed as if for war.
I was the first causality of the night,
                                   hands up in surrender

But as bleed on the floor I thought
                                                           "Why me"

A thought falls shattering
                     The glaze of stillness and
Ripples reach out wanting
                     The connection of a minds touch.

We may walk pathes
         That others have

Colleted singular
        Footsteps upon.



           But where we are,
            It's ****** green.


And nothing is pure,
           Beyond the first footsteps.



For after one, everyone






             Is just a mirage of purit.

And everything after is a mirage

                 Of wishful thinking...

I died in a thought but was resurrected in a
fraction of a second, that again fell into disrepair.
emaciated it would linger in nothingness.

Once again I was never whole but a thought
that could never to be conceived as it was a
thought that I died in and was never really born.

An abortion of ideas that could have weaved such
life in to words but then its beating needing had
faded like a falling leaf and crumbling into oblivion.

Meeting on mutual understanding,
That a thought is a moment given
Two errors of different reflections.

For one must balance what is equally
Different but reasoning that's it was an
Instant split in-between but the same.

A mind given a singularly, but births
Ideas equally different from its reality.

A thousand
Butterflies lifted
Me up,
One let go
And i did fall.
It takes only one
Person to let go,
And you could
Fall to the floor,
With no one to help you up again once more.

I am cut a thousand times, words
Slice delicately in to my mind.

But there is no pain, for each knick
Is a paper cut in my memory, scars
Of a good read every now and then .

Remembered words the feeling
Of being there even in word,
Another cut to my mind.

I would be cut a thousand times
For each word, for a good book
Opens the mind. A new story now
Bleeds in to my mind.

I wear a thousand faces,
but you see my true face,
the one I want you to see.

Others see my faces, I
change for each person
I meet, they will never
see the real me, that is
only for you others may
never see.

I wear a thousand faces,
each and every day
different situations,
a different face in play,
They will never see the
real me,  the only person
that sees me is you, my
true face the one I will
not hide you see the true me.

Dying for our sins, was the metaphor,
but was it as it seems?
for if he died for those would one stay
dead not rise three days later it seems .

A bad hangover of consciousness.
were sins only forgiven for a weekend
maybe +1. Were we misled that he passed
but was just drinking holy wine in his cave crib.

If one was to be born to die for us, to die for
us, then why was it just a weekend gig?
Your sins aren't forgiven for he lived,
misinterpreted it was just a 3 day weekend.

Do you ever miss the perpetual innocence
of before, when the world was an illusion
of colorful whispers and nothing seemed as
exhilarating as what was coming next.

For next was a new thought, a footstep into
the unknown as we didn't know, didn't realize  
what was a randomness of a world so huge
to our surroundings.

We took everything in and kept hold of it,
unknown to bringing a smile in a time unthought.
But never knowing it would be needed further
down those long travelled tracks of time.

Darkness  is your friend
  as  imagery is your soul mate
a tongue speaks in whispers,
                                          I want to see it..

said the reflection in the twilight...

a tree plunges
winds victim
oblivions silent moment

Herself of infinite possibilities stemming from
that moment...
Drowning within her womb! Never one for reflection,
as those that looked upon the glaring in reflective
gazes where her sisters that were still connected
with her memories.

That which was meant to feed the focus of life wrapped
upon there throats like the hangman's noose.
She looked on hands reaching in the vastness of diluted
life, her screams silent within only her sisters heard her
clamouring  as life was diluted from there figures.

Gazing upon there reflections, no longer a trio of playful
content. two months she was collected in apparitions
that floated around her.. decaying into void reflections.
The silent screams of her sisters lingering through the womb
even though they were gone there cries haunted her.

As she was released the memory faded beyond her innocence,
till age crept upon her skin, and in years that past.
Echoes images of crying babies filled the air, till her eighteenth
and when she gazed into her self she saw herself.
But when descending her sister with opal eyes lingered.

Skin crawled like spiders weaving their thoughts on her
skin, beneath herself things crawled. Videoing herself in
mirrors echoes surfaced like one drowning in nothingness.
And she saw those of her conception reaching forth for warmth.

Looking upon the mirror, the love of those who were echoes
reflected in her absence cried at what was taken before.
A pact was versed for even though there form was lost
a trio of life still lingered within her, from womb till birth.

Now they live a life of echoes each respective of the others
emotions clinging to the shorelines of each consciousness
that washes up. There is a sea shell on the shore but there
is three echoes that live within this moment haunting the
shades of life's passing, never looking at ones own reflection.

I can hear our thoughts,
the moment that we scream
                      in our mind...
it is ecstasy upon our palate of
delirium you do not venture
outwards but you are comatose
within the vessels of our lucidity.

But what happens when a wall is
                  seized and removed
with the delicate motions of within.
        motionless hands vacate the
conclusion that all are safe within.

Can you apprehend the vocalization
of our own whispers. Malevolent
perceiving doesn't come from the
exterior of reflection,
                       it was always there within

"Can you hear the scratches?
                            "That's ourselves trying to escape from within,

Shhhhh.... little thoughts your within the disillusion of my
speculation, were all trying to escape this home of creaking
reflections. Look there is a paper mashie construct of our
freedom but I threw a match on it, now look at them all burn.

Attention is not the grasp
Of some,  where the mind
Wonders if more than
What the anticipation of
Remembering surpasses.



*'A thought can stretch into a thousand words, but a goldfish
Has already forgotten its question,

It cut upon itself and  paper bled ink,
Gagged raw, seeping slowly out.

It was a choice that was made, no longer
Wanting to be what was issued pure white.

Needing to be used, to feel a purpose
So It wept words, that flowed down.

Can something torn ever be what it was,
It wasn't meant to be flawless .

It was no longer pure, but it  bled word,
And it read, **authentic piece of ink.

When the bereavement  of a seasons passing
                                                                     lingers,
leaves fall like haemorrhaging droplets.

Tree's like skeletons of past life,
        waving in the wind.
Shadow now claw longer than before.

As life decays, beneath..
      frigid breath crawls along the landscape,
those left above entombed in decay.
mortality of surroundings..

Dead petals collect in the shallow sockets
vacant for eternity,the fragrance scratches
beneath the decaying waves of nothingness

Feathers scar every reflection, wordings
distorted in finite scratches barley visible
but lacerating deeper than thoughts hanging.

In my veins twilight and luminosity were
dangling from my fingertips scratching them
till fingertips bled radiantly, fading to disillusion.

I was a cloud of confusion, raining shards of
insecurity inwards. Convulsing with each kiss
of positivity that was riveted in my empty skull.

I'm a mirage of imagery, my smiles hanging on
meat hooks, my hello's, how are you. A collection
of stapled wordings, I'm dead inside, a shadow walking.

Suppressed recollections
play upon the strings of my impressions,
that are fractured confirmations
of where my mind is flowing,
                             upwards
to the vault of all my beginnings.

There is a stalk that wonders aimlessly
within the crevasses of all that flows,
sustaining on the occasions that were
never meant to be its leaves deprived
of all worthwhile emotions.

Separate from what weaves above,
a solitary refection whispers against
the tide of the beginnings, floating with
the progressive clear thought.

In the motionless water it
Is static, carried from edge
To far by the whispers of
Breeze. It is transfixed
Between two realms, both
Transparent upon the eye.

It was motion but no more,
Life was lived but only floats
No more. Like a plastic bottle
With a hole, It takes its fill,
Slower than a stone it sinks
Like a leaf falling from a tree.

It is stillness upon the ground
And eyes are open, gentle
Stillness no noise just the
Gentleness of surroundings.
There is no breath, no life
Only motionless swaying as
What now lies at the bottom
Of this pool.

Less education leads to a society
that cant grasp the concepts  
                                     of the future.

You will be a carcass of a dead past,
              that others will remember.
As an ignorance of one that is fearful
             of ones that could carry a people.

But laid them down to the ignorance
               of what could be a educated nation,
now one of perpetual stupidity...

An ignorant one is one
             that will falter
beneath the footsteps
                    of those educated in the future


and not the past ignorance that others cling too.

Woven in silk depression even though pure,
I hang slightly on every strand.
I could weave a moment around me
                                        and hang static.

Would anyone notice the slight stillness ensuing
on my web of thought. Or would I just be
a cocooned memory hanging on my own
                                               web of depression.

Only feeding upon myself... A trap of my own doing,
feeding on the misery that I have woven not
realizing this web is  
                                  to capture myself.

Looking at the clocks,
               later side of the
                               week,

Nearly that day of Weekend's
                                     B.L.I.S.S
                 So nearly here, it's Thursday..

Life sometimes can be a weight
Too heavy to bear, until we are
Crushed under the force, it drains
Life, thought, energy till there is
No willingness anymore.

And with that last lift to push it
Crests above us, we fall further till
there is no more, and then the life is
Empty. We find are selves thinking
Thoughts that we wouldn't have before,

That thought is with us where ever
We go, till that time are last breath
Leaves, the weight is lifted we are
Free in a sense once more...

When I venture eyes slightly glazed
           at that ****** light permeating
my room like an unwanted guest
                               knocking at my door
at 8:00am in the shock treatment of my
                                    
                                               awakening.


But still versing hymens of my woeful
                                   acknowledgement.
Covering ones self like a concrete tomb.
                  covering light with plasters
of inconvenience, hiding the cuts of awakening.

I will slumber, entombed beneath shallow blankets.
                          Never arising
                           to the wants of another day.
Clinging to the beauty of darkness,
                               I awaken to the reality of another day.

She was a shadow of herself enveloped
in the negatives of bygone memories .
But she shone brighter than all the yesterdays.
Walking in a timely manner of her choosing.

Though she always wondered slowly,
everything of her day was done.
Her thoughts always vocalized upon us,
never reserved she always spoke her mind.

"Time waits for no others"
                 "So always wait for its pauses"
"Then get yourself two minutes ahead,

We loved her for the fire that never seemed
to dampen no matter the season or
what life collected upon her frail frame..

She rings us every weekend, reminding
us that she's still a memory in a lives.
Who would ever miss her,
                     she's more alive than any of us...

Well where would I pertain to start...
         it wasn't at the beginning rather the end.
For we were going out, I put on my already
     ironed jeans, ironed jeans? yes I do that.

But moving on from my habits, we move on
to another of her perception of time.
                                      those fateful words of;

                            "I'll be ready in five minutes"

What isn't told, what hides beneath these words
                                                           are as follows!

1. Five minutes to find a pair of shoes!
           the minutes start again with each disposed off
as what is time without the right footwear...

2.  Five minutes to pick a dress to try it on,
if it doesn't match ^No1!!^ then as before
             five minutes graces her thoughts again.

3. Hair she has so much,
               but if it doesn't match the occasion,
I had to buy a break proof mirror, she said the
             brush slipped, but I have other thoughts.

4. Make up? why she is beautiful without this on.
                  But for some a cover from insecurities.
each layer having to match the above and so on.

Well, I had waited patiently?
                    but five minutes collected into infinity.
I cracked open a beer, had one or two.
               then fell asleep on the sofa even the dog
looked at the clock and muffled into slumber.

She came down, looking like I had seen her
on our first date. The time wasted wasn't at all,
those moments now melted away. She has no
construct of time, but when I see her like this,
it doesn't matter how much time she takes.

A single word etched in life's fleeting moments,
It held so much of them, still warmth radiated
From its form. I held it, looking aimlessly into
The thoughts that made this word speak to me.


I couldn't comprehend what would make a
Word speak out louder than any voice could.
Looking, glancing at the aftermath of this
Two syllable word that screamed tears on paper.

"I,  "I, "Cant believe this was your only word,

In blood was written one word that ended life **"SORRY,

I ponder the reflection on the night sky,
gazing at the finite moments that gaze
upon my eyes. And I shed a tear, for I
brought these in to my existence.

I'm a singular person, a lone voice...
but I had a chance to voice my opinion,
that had past dead trees were our
currency.. Dead trees sealed there sap,
sealed our future frozen in there ending.

For our time could have been wonderment,
but we stayed silent. And now our sewed opinions
fall foul of the breath our kin's breath..
A world of wonderment turned vinegary to the
taste, as blind thoughts bleed into what we breath..

I wanted a better future, but vocals are severed for
we fear of our moment, not those we give life to.
We care for them, but not the moment for after
were gone. We forget this is a place we left for them,
it was meant to be grand but we made mistakes.

This was a reality turned in to famine, breathless
nights, a moon no longer shimmering dulled by
forefathers greed. But what did it pave, that time
has not passed. So stand now, or those of our future
will huddle in cemetery's of actions instead of just breathing.

My world Is but
The moments of
Fingers.

Each tap is my
Life quickening
To its conclusion,

My story is done
Finished
End.....

The insanity of life's breathes,
Opens tears upon a wrist
Of bandaged bracelets.

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 are all babies
      in the pond of life
swimming to somewhere

Soiled nappies
        filled with discontent.

That the world is
     always uncomfortable
     and full of discomfort..

The cord of reality severed,
                 screams of desperation.

Sobbing that every breath isn't
              within a mothers existence.

Now breathing the cruel air
         of actuality. Comforted but alone.

Within the first moments,
             beaten upon to show pain.


Woeful of an innocence made to
             cry for the pleasure of others.

A parent holds after others hands
           ****** there innocence of birth.
Fingerprints imprint beyond paternal instincts .


A mothers third party hands clench,
                   where others have already
                   took maternal moments away.

A piñata of so much meaning, now spoilt
                   in a mothers hands. She cries as
                   others hold the candy of innocence.

Ya sitting in a single room,
                wishing it was inhabited
                 by the both of you..

But you sleep on that mattress
               meant for more than one.
               but a single thought lingers here.

You were meant to collude with more than
              singular moments.  
                             But you think alone.

Baby you were meant to be a memory,
              but know I lie here alone.
                     Knowing  your gone, I need you more..