My feet are above the ground,
Like a rocket ship with nothing in the way,
I take off,
And I keep going.
I just keep going...

No longer restricted by the confounds of flesh,
By birth and by death.
I leave behind who I was, and now I’m I am.

My mother unravels her ball of yarn.
Her fingers; wrinkled and sallow
tug between the threads of negativity
until she finds a strand thick enough
to weave me into.
She is familiar with how it feels to hold me,
so it takes mere seconds.
And she begins to knit.
A web of negative thoughts,
spiralled patterns of negative action.
I'm trapped behind a blanket of unpleasantries that you knitted for me
and it's heavy
and it hurts to hold
and it's beginning to suffocate.
Who'd have known it would be my mother's own handiwork
that collapsed my lungs.
Her craft knots itself around me
and I'm shackled.
The heart she gave me begins to slow.
The organs she grew for me are failing.
The breaths that she waited nine months for are weakening.
I shrivel, like a newborn again.
Like HER newborn again.
Maybe, like this, she will want me once more.

I'm aware of two certainties;
Certainly taxes isn't either one.

from death, alive,
the wedding between the good and evil gives birth to the death’s sublime beauty,
far from the depths of darkness,
in the huge void,
nobody can see, feel or perceive,
the truth and nature of the fragile consciousness,
a death alive will **** the spoiled allure of the world,
a touch of death over my eyes,
the gaze which brings sounds and rhythms after life,
death over beauty in the dark,
from void and blankness I rise,
the virtues of the infinite,
dimensions of time and lustful waters soak the mind,
I am the gate of irresistible hell,
passions and fashions of the dark,
the love from death was a temple of endless births,
inside my prowess, inner joy,
I put a spell over the time ending its life and continuity,
today time is finished and vanished from perception,
ending but never,
prolonged by a luring infinite.

Weep me into an orbit
secure my warmth into it
Elevated, tremble me still
Lifting my legs into the air
And completely releasing the ground
Most comforting coldness
Welcomes me to a void
An inter-clashing of hollow and heart
I see nothing before me
I feel nothing beneath me
Moving only relatively to you
But the air between us bends
My bones feel crisp
When energy evolves into matter
Experiencing, for the first time,
Negative space
Seeing what nothingness lies before me
The acceptance
Ensuring calamity’s deference
I’ll be there
May I be still but I am moving
You see me here
Mightful in collision and clamour
Which rings so silently
That my breathing sounds greater
I long to be there
To dissipate into light
Become a pull in the tide
Warp everything inside
Regenerating my new birth
Fulfilled by the presence of lacuna

for all that’s good on Earth,
for all the holy virtues,
for the greatness and the purity of my authentic spirituality,
the presence of epiphany which helps the poor become the bold,
the necklace of the souls once bereaved and insecure,
I, for the grace of humankind,
give rebirth upon a world of lost ancestors,
to come from so afar what I perceive,
to bring me the pure and the kind,
ferment a shape, a pyramid of light and matter,
water the land, germinate the void with seeds of creation,
a hope melting all my dreams,
give birth to a diluted wonder,
the fertile soil of innocence and power,
earnestly conjure from thought to heights of infinite,
abound my being with your lust and wishes,
may all the grace of the genesis be the sojourn of fantasy,
my precious thought, my enlightened heart.

No more a whisper
Such were the demands
Demands levied upon fields of dreams
Fantasies sowed into the field season o'er season
Crops rising bone dry and thirsty for verity
Babes who would never know milk
Carrion who would never know decay
Work that would never know pay
Such were these dreams!
Slave to the whims of whimsy
Tossed o'er a deranged sea, churned
Nay
Spurned by the ****** that cackle in the depths,
Twirling their hands as would a maestro
and the dreams dance by these strings
Reigns upon the centaur
Thought himself more man than beast
but his master proves him wrong
throttles his dreams like so many tragic ****** and still...
And still!
He dreams.
But the dreams begin to seep a saucy essence
The stuff of childbirths and ****** victories upon the battlefield
Both an emerging of brilliance and an escape of nightmare
Both a wailing cry and a roaring scream
And the scaffolding clinks and clanks around the wispy form of the dream
And it clinks and clunks its way up, providing the mold for new dawn.
The prophet, who is both midwife and sycophant, utters a chorus of impassioned voices singing to the ends of the universe,
while the dream bulges and creaks against the form of the mold.
The scaffolding breaks in an uproar of so many eggshell fragments, blasting forth like shrapnel
And the veil of ignorance is pierced by this awakening.
And a hush falls upon the world in a tremor of silence
And the ache is felt in the effort of producing a single thought
For all is absent in the wake of this dream made flesh...
"She is here,"
The paragons of ages announce,
"And she will command your pleasures until your pains are destitute... and you shall live no more, for what is life without pain."

She was a stray airplane in the sea of stars
An imposturous glimmer of hope
With no true end or destination
Destined to float among the lights, alone

Or so she thought as she wrote it down
Sealing the edge with the sad remains
Of wasted birthday candles
The final goodbye to the golden days

Prodigy at first, prodigal at last
A soul lost on the way to find a meaning
Searching for the faintest sign of a beginning
With her writ of passage left behind

The death of the author means
A rebirth for all things familiar
The return to a garden of thought
And the flowers in full bloom.

Seventeen
Is the age you are
You have my love
No matter how far

You are my friend
And that will never end
Our love doesn’t snap
It only bends

You’re talented and beautiful
And you’re just so cool
This poem has to end
For I am at school.