Sometimes I feel the world has got It In for me or maybe I'm to blind to
Blinded by grief the loss of my sweetheart so I'm not best happy with this
So If the world has got It In for me makes very little difference
Nothing much I now want to do without my sweetheart so I quess I'll hang around
try and pass my time left here In this life and wait for the Angels to come
'When nights shall be drunk
And souls be tumbling in revelry
When the comic of roles end
And cold shall be burning
I await to call the utmost illegitimate side of us
As my penchanted pleasure
For you be semisane
Caught half into adulthood and rest you know...
Neither you nor me or they
Be sceptical or carrying the peels of scruples
The suspense kills them
Or at least the parents who support
Awaiting for the cue
If I don't in a few, I'm gonna pass out.
So without further a due
Is it just me?
The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.
now comes a vision
I see clear
the love we long for
has drawn near
the calling of our hearts we hear
it is our time
the darkness parts
so we may pass
the light we share
burns bright at last
the future now forgives the past
it is our time
and so our dream
now greets the Sun
the light that burned
in dreams is done
we walk in love
we walk as one
it is our time
I see all the colours and the
Shapes leaves can turn into
I feel the rough wood of a gentle tree
Scratch the moss around its trunk
Getting it under my nails
I touch your skin your hair your lips
Look at you in the eyes to gaze your joyful expression.
But all this in thought as I
Lay down in bed my hair dying on sorrow pillows
The dark second floor passageway
celebrates its one blessed feature,
a sash window, tarnished panes,
pixels, lit in colours beyond RGB.
An ordered scene of chevron gables,
an art deco arrangement, apex
clasping serpentine rust red pantiles,
pitched protection for the action below.
Steam escaping kitchen windows,
conveying today's menu,
while shining expectant plates await.
A clustered community,
jealousies beneath the breath.
I woke up, had ***.
I woke up, just one more smoke.
For ‘morrow, I sleep.
Await amongst the clouds searching for whom to be,
I stand here now silently entrenched with what I see,
A vivid gaze I do afford though few and far between,
The slimming wealth of all those helped desperate to reconvene,
I wont pull away yet to find grounded truths I must,
The banks on offer within the vault tears rain through the lust,
I cling to those of faith without the strength for what to give,
Is it wrong to sing along yet forget the words to live.,
You never know
how much you love to live
until you're barely clinging to life
until you've wasted it away
until you realize
that the unknown awaits.