NOT : Part 3 of 3

Sickly
fever,
******
keep
twisting
that
*******
knife.

A mirror can only shatter if presented with the facts,
no dewy eyed saint and top floor is for the faint
And beauty was never meant for the beast,
and gifted is nothing more than the weak.
The black replaces your green hues
and outside is the winter cold,
always will leave the dew
Can't do this any more.
poetry days dead for
so are left overs.
So humbling
tide of seen.
the blurry
of vision
of me.

I will come to terms with my inhumanity
No blame but these wings that resent
I know but you could never know.
I wish for no centred freedom,
This time, I will be mail sent
and I know I'm slipping,
This is how I dreamt
I see so clear now.
I don't need
more time.
Loyalty?
No....
Just
a cloud.
mumbling mouth
of my father's
is all I will remember
when he thought
I was getting better.

There's no angels
There's no demons
There's humanity
And it makes me sick.

Bees and wasps are timid when its cold,
but they fire up their sting as soon as the sun is gold,
human desire is no different, warmth under blankets,
and passion mounts up like a buzzing of a racket
Stings will fly as anger smashes into gyprock walls
Seduction of those lips, leave you feeling less than tall.
Feelings, regrets will soon turn into loneliness
and money is always the center of this mess,
or dark charismatic chap making you into less.

Numb of Terror : Part 2


am I really dead,
I prefer to be alone
not be a stupid mask
in a room filled
of not
but the same
of me
is not the same,
you wouldn't understand.
And no, you think you do,
You haven't lived 47 years
in these ****** shoes
and so until you do,
there's no comprehension,
no articulation,
no intellectualism
of a cold feel of a wrist.

Yeah, I'm fallen,
but I hope too
you are dead.
Try sleeping
with the silence
of the tainting.

I wake up
and yet,
no hiccups
no headaches,
just the love,
I understand you.
Keep thinking,
we are so different,
but underneath
our personal hells,
is the same well......

She's on the roof-tops
and all of the skies,
and when I pop the pop
thirsty as I lay.

Lets take this up a step,
its no abbreviation,
her beauty's in her eyes
and I get lost there alone

When the disco's room vacant,
care to dissect the marbling,
and I wish I had my breath
in every one of your steps

But you never saw me......

maybe this vacancy,
was not a lively in you,
but it was in me........
gentle's not a wheeze
though a winter's breeze
and how I moved,
with the thought of you.

All the same......
Music is not a voice,
its a continuous
of a gentle parade
of all that's baffled.
words are jumbled
like our jungle,
yet many of us remain..
Its not a circus of a tame,
but not so boisterous,
the flying western witch
I can't really explain it.

"I a-washed the world to get rid of the sin.
My mistake was not letting it all flood,
including Noah and the animals,
I should have started it all from fresh"

" Sin is worse than it has ever been, the powerful
prey on the weak and the desolate"

" There's no saving a tree once the bark has been
totally stripped of its distinguished features"

" I should have realized free will is desirable,
since the apple's been bitten, there's left a black core
of all the thieves, black hearts and the ******"

" The sun gives raise to the tripping over the homeless.
The night gives birth to the terror of home invasions"

"Free will is the sin I myself will have to answer to.
My crime is above those of the subjects I unleased"

As you laid there dying,
I had just one vision
It will soon be me,
and I don't feel exclaimed,
I am so.....
over but I'm.....
a repeat death.

The pains of belly butterflies
The trials of the lonely stranger
drinking alone in a crowded club
until night becomes sun-up.

The heart-sick of dreamy memories
a flannel over the head of the sick.
That only love could bring a remedy
a misery brings you to your knees.

The weakness of strength zapped away
the torment of the birds the next day
The push to get through the same ol,
walking to the bus station in the cold.

Sitting next to a beautiful stranger,
as she taps away at her new phone
Gone is the tease and thrill of danger
Replaced by empty shells and bones.

When all hope is crashed,
and you no longer
feel that heart-beating
of a rush,
You know its time
to meet the reaper
who beckons you,
before the day's end.
What is left when
you look in the mirror
with darkly green eyes
that hold no love or
compassion for anything
or anyone,
You're a just a vessel
going through the motions.

I wish to hold you, but like a ghost
you walk right through me,
like the nightly vast shadows
flowing like energy through me.
I whisper your name, startled
from a perfectly induced dream,
awake with grief and despair,
there's no chance you'll be there.

I don't get to feel,
lips that tremble,
I don't get to love,
feel her wrapped arms.
I don't feel that empathy
that's a circle around me.
I don't get to be,
a soul mate lasting the years,
of a 200 year old tree.
I don't even dream,
though she is there,
but the distance is fair.
I don't feel anything
but what death shall bring.

Liquorice leaves a bad taste,
while m&ms never go to waste,
Turkey so dry on xmas day,
Succulent thigh of chicken moist,
Its always the fastest picked choice,
then the salty yummy sweet ham
and a decently prepared potato salad,
leaves belly fill without ever glum.