Shackled to the very depths,
precariously situated
on the very precipice
of the end

where I can lasso the edges
and bring them back together
whipping the world back
some disseminatory yo-yo
excreting silky rut
rocks that bumble up
from hell and turn to lush
green,
belts of world for sand and dust
to which we have been gleaned.

I could hear them calling deep inside
that colossal of Rhodinia
an ancient land that will never be heard
except for the left
over play dough
left in the sand
Hidden under ice
I will dig until my fingers burn

The animals all taste like chicken
we hide beneath the rocks
fallen angels
left to run for our lives
constantly
constantly
constantly
constantly
constantly

and­ then
Flash
We are together again
the chickens cluck
and I fetch them a water pail
to wash away the fire in their gut
time to eat
time to grow
time to move
time to know

And the Himilayas dance into the sky
and florida's mosquita nets are dry
and the ice
and the creatures
given to the earth
move ever onward
and then
us.


But what does it mean?
I am but dust
and elemental stuff
and atomic configurations
on a tectonic bluff
unknown to the geometry
except for what I see
opaque eyeball
in its cage rolling
Searching for something in the static of dreams
in between the here and then
the now and when
the constant end
that drags the rocks
like slaves
towards constant
never
end.

May we speak for those forgotten far to soon
You play deaf to requests of human soul
Reptilian lies encasing the heart of stone
Oh Captain, No Captain. On this ship on the edge of the dumb new world
Idiots raised upon the pew, Hailed as Knights of the people
All they’ve brought is numbered days and promises far too few

Too Little, Too late
Deadly victims to the Maybot’s fate
Pillaging idealised dreams of united pride
All the people can do is run and hide
Democracies throat ripped out by the vile disease
British sorry, Not sorry state
Broken system, Shattered across the isle
Devoid of soul, To death do us part
Its Brexit that will drive the steak through
The Iron witches,
Cold.
Dead.
Heart.

He had spent his entire life giving
And all of his life that's what he'd done ..
Seldom asking for anything for himself
He was after all his very own fathers son..

He traveled how he traveled widely ever so
Friends he made so many along the way..
He helped so many over time make ends meet did he
But what he had given seldom came back to stay..

He married a girl who'd known no other in life
She was all any man could ever ask for true..
But anything of making love in any real form
She very simply never had known or knew..

A rather fruitless marriage several ways to be
But he loved her endlessly and provided always..
Years went by and this never changed over time
A man gets lonely but never cheated in all his days..

She simply never knew of making love never wanted to
And he felt it wrong to have her change her at all..
So all the time he wore it bit the bullet as said
A good man never did wrong but he always stood tall..

He would have given anything to sit on a rock and talk
To one that both knew each other with respect as friends..
However he never spoke her language and never had met any
Who ever were real friends as honest conversation blends..

He felt one day he'd just fade away and blamed his karma  
Would deliver some peace of mind in a way distant place..
His beautiful woman felt keeping a clean home and caring
Was all she needed to do to be a wife with her simple grace..

He as it was loved her dearly as ever since they had met
He gave all his money to her .. her family from day one..
Never had he known of making love as married couples do
Yet never told of this in time to any time gone or to come..

Many asked him how come you both have not had children
He still never said a single word and never put her down..
He was always outgoing friendly but had values integrity
They told stories they'd invented gossip wore a crown..

A highly educated man at best as well a writer an artist
An author a singer a songwriter learned things ever vast..
However a loving man in every way within with sincerity
Had always given his best finished what he started in past..

Nobody took time to really know him as he was deep within
Still he wishes he had one friend as a real friend in life..
With all the respect that goes with real sincere friendship
To sit with time and easy a little soul depth inner strife..

However he was kept as if in a prison re his taught values
Feeling maybe it was just in this life karma or his lot
A you have to be there to know kind of thing it all became
Mostly feeling even alone in a crowd as if an invisable plot

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Eyes swollen by a lust for change.
A hunger; a desire
To force myself back through the gapless barrier
Preclusively demarcating reminiscence from reality.
Why can’t my anamnesis be my actuality?
Even if it is verisimilitudinous,
Lie to Me!

as if I almost fell in love
and the rain ceased to fall
like when a perfect halo forms around your head

as if you almost said it
and the words drenched your lips
like when the stars light up your dreams in color

as if they almost believed
and the world became heaven
like when all is calm and no fear ever existed

as if
but its only impossible

Upon my steel face, will it rain
upon my gleaming eyes, it will be made
the envy of a soul,
trapped in perfect face
to no great final resting place

My legs, drilled into the ground
my eyes, upturned to sky unwound
released of tears and raining down
to broken glass
and grass
their souls unbound

To stare deep into a darkened me,
my admirers creep along my metal sheen
as my material decompose,
to save my thoughts from endless woe

"So long!", will I be endless seen
abrupt, *****, incongruously
commanding these vistal centuries
of concrete and perjury

poking up grey thumbs among the hills
while the putrid stench under burrows
My fingers, ever curled, do maestrate
The doleful victims of that loving fate

And when you walk upon my land,
and see my metal hanging hands
Know my voice, hear my dreams
to never make the enemy of me.

I rubbed the gum wrapper so long my fingers turned green,
as pieces of tin foil fell like dust on this tattered pillow.
i sat obediently calm and quietly observant,
while you judged me for the amount of days i’ve lived
not considering the quality of those days.

I drove home screaming to melodies lost on me,
as the night air whipped my hair into tangles of hurt,
asking what plan He has for a soul like mine,
for no matter where i go, there simply isn’t a place for me.

It’s never a question of smiles gained or looks given,
but rather, the ways i can bend and form to ideas,
and how easily i can lie while waiting for the curtain to drop.