Senryu

with positive thought
a case laid on the law bench;
fair or unfair, wait.

My new CD case is broken

It happened on  Friday; post maths
I opened the case, reached for the disk  and...
It broke.

I wept for seconds.
It was not even a month old
(Got at Christmas)
And yet, before my eyes,
It was destroyed

I was only allowed weep for a bit
After all, there was Stuff to do: Maths Irish French
And the cd was still there, right ?

Why do things break?
They need to, sure but why not
Slowly..
So that we may have time
Before the Brush Up
of our
Present Days

the remains
of a hope so deep inside
reveal a lifetime of lies
that was fed slowly
and grown with an
impossible precision
by those silly mouth noises
by lust-laced lies
by bold faced betrayals
of hearts and minds


discover cathedrals astride
genuine greed displaced by
***** deeds, any price is cheap
when love like that is led
over and over again
to dead ends.

I march to the beat of my own drum, but I have no rhythm.
The path diverges in two ways and I choose the third.
My head is a labyrinth from which escape is fruitless.
Please believe me when I tell you that my heart holds more dark corners than most because the sun just doesn't shine as bright as it used to over here.
And it's not often that the gates come down long enough to let others in,
so welcome to the road not traveled.
Now the moon has become my guiding light to eventual freedom,
escorting me through the shadows of the past.
I need your fingers locked with mine as I share the secrets buried so far back I almost forgot where I put them.
You gave me this and more
or so I thought
because now...
Now I worry that the corners are too black and your eyes don't adjust well in the dark
and you too are lost in the labyrinth with little hope for return.
The road worn and beaten by footprints is the one you choose to journey on,
for my path has too many thorns and poisonous plants that choke whoever dares attempt passage.
And as you fade into the distance,
I can tell that my cacophony of percussion will never allow me
to be able to match the melody
of the soft, steady pulsation that emanates from your very core  
but you knew that all along,
didn't you?

I hear your knocking,
I hear it well
I hear your screams
they're barely a yell
I can make out every single word you say
I wish you could see that they're all in vain
I'm a hopeless case
In other words a waste
because no matter how loud you get
I won't ever be able to forget
The last time that  i ever let somebody in.

I remember as a child-
peeking over the window,
to a ticking sound,
from a pitch black cloak,
hiding a creature on the ground.
A shadow of a haunting sparrow,
with a knife atop a pole.
I simply stared and giggled,
as I felt the lifeless soul.
Unsure of what to think,
I believe I heard a voice.
Said it, "I weaved a basket."
Then left he, a silent noise.
Baffled!
The atmosphere was like scent so taint.
"The basket soon has become a case."
The words were wispy and growing faint,
like the words were sent away.
I was hesitant to follow it,
and I don't recall why I didn't.
I found myself the sturdy floor,
and my friend,
'the cloaked one' was now no more.

Crooked cops and sick men in high places.
Beating and ****** the sad mourning faces.
The people, the public; their prawns and their tools.
Abusing and using; their methods are cruel.
Our voice it means nothing, our fists do no good.
We will never be free, we are misunderstood.
For the fat cats with tall hats drink deep with the greed.
They say,
"Take from the people! They're helpless, They're meek."
And they're right we can't stop them, we'll always be beat.
They have tanks and battalions.
We have rocks and bare feet.