I have a bad feeling,

I'm looking out the window watching two clowns having a go,
There's something in my brain that I can feel but I don't know,
Out there in the jungle my beating heart is about to **** my mind,
I've been in the dark for so long, I wonder if that's how you go blind ?

Sitting here for an eternity before the eternal sleep arrives,
I have these words inside my head that I just cannot describe,
I've looked everywhere; in the shadows, beneath my bed,
But I've never seen any of those ghosts well and alive,
There's so much to forget and not enough time to live a life,
Maybe it's just a myth we feed down their throats to make them slow,
I'm looking out the window watching two clowns, where did they go ?

I don't want to be near people, I've heard they bite,
From the trees and the animals, there's no respite,
Do you know what it takes to make a mistake that you made and can't pay the price,
Words are mightier than a sword, said no man ever cut by the ice,
Be wise, as wise men say--
Tomorrow or today, it doesn't matter, you own nothing anyway,
You cannot say, you cannot pray, like a puppet play the trumpet,
Served on a tray, it's upto them to count the bullets and pump it,
The world's not round baby alien, go ahead I said it,
I saw it in the newspaper yesterday, someone killed something to keep the demons at bay,
There was this ceremony for the hungry in the town,
I went around and found no one who wore a crown

I don't know if it's the song, but I want to **** myself,
It's been a year and only now I've learned how to spell,
In the tales I have every word so wrong and nothing to tell,
Come along for a ride and I'll describe it for you myself
There are so many lies I have lying around, my momma told me to sell,
But I don't care and I'm insecure, I'm sure they mean well,
If I had a penny for every time they shut the door, I'd buy my way to hell.

Can't stop me from speaking or repeating what is there in my heart,
When I was four I waited for the ice-cream man at odd hours,
Wishing upon the escaping stars for my wish to last,
It was all for nothing, not a good story, please don't ask,
Lease me your sight, so I can make sense of all the colours floating around,
The higher is the mountain, the faster will a snowball fall down,
Form around my ankles and bury me inside the white light,
When I was young I was bright, someone stole my light,
And now I'm allergic to the sun at night
It burns my skin,
All this smoke spreading through the air, I have to take it in,
I can hear it everywhere, the mystic voices inside my head those sing,
I feel so dizzy, somebody save me before I finish my drink,
Have you ever felt like titanic when it was about to sink ?
In an ocean of whiskey, that makes it so much more risky,
Floating zombies, reaching the shore, and killing all in their path,
Seven years of feeling itchy and finally the nightmare is about to last,
The vast emptiness I feel due to this stain on my shirt,
Bought it for free from a woman drunk in sadness, giving birth,
The labour of pain, the games they play before they go insane,
Vapours of dirt, clinging to the edge of your madness, pushing you down,
And you know, the only thing that can save you, are tears of a clown.

Finger shimmer green hues,
arms extend directionless,
brown cloaks rough,
stomach drinks in poison giving life,
toes unseen hold forever true,
eons have passed since their birth,
pain and suffering withstood,
peaceful and sentient they are,
in their midst we are lesser,
till the day we bring them down,
using their life to shield ours,
in debt we are to them,
our big 'ole friends.

"Sky!"
"Why?"
    #

Pointless nostalgic,
my only talent is echoing
onto amniotic microcosms,
where singing is the abortion,
of any cerebral commotion.
No courage in my veins
to float on the vibes
of a carcass that remains of me.
licked clean with the searing cure
of a lion, by then confused
with the dense effect
of another space, burned to the ground.
These new sunsets cry raw drops of clay,
still hanging by the thread of these horizons,
while balance bet everything,
on the frustrated sound
of unspoken words.

The Scales are out of balance
Thanks to the alias: ******
He just couldn't face the challenge
So he went out splurgin'
That B flies Flower to Flower
Forgetting the Honey at home
She prayed for the hour
That his sins he would hold
up to, and never again roam
She, disappointed in his inaction
He, saved by her contraction
... Knives would've been flown

May is quiet as the night
Prior to the first,
the Seventh-letter was alright
Haunted by the sight
The reaper, he wants to fight
But by luck of an angel
Alive be the fallen April

So in conclusion of all those years ago,
Always dancing on the edge of yourself.
Returning to your yearning of what you long for,
Alas the scenery changes evermore.
Heart in heart believing more.

Vague and curiosity strike the audience
Of the author of such a cryptic message
The writer has everything to say but doesn't choose to say it
You will stop and consider the message's possible true meaning
Like one needing "to cut off her dead ends" when one posts a picture
Of a haircut
Or one saying "she now knows how it feels"
And her reading it, she does.
But these cryptic messages bring out the creativity in all our hearts
How can we contort or twist those messages to get its true meaning
We wonder and consider and wonder that one says something so poetic, so beautiful
Yet poetry and a cryptic messages share something
Poetry breaks a heart of the reader and leaves them wondering how
A cryptic message does the same
Except the reader wonders and considers if it really is meant for them...
Or someone else
A cryptic message holds so much power
And the truth that the author refuses to share
A poem takes an idea and allows its roots to grow in an infinite way that creates a stir in the readers mind

So really, a poem is just like a cryptic message.

I will burn this land to a grave and make
an idol in the hollow of the hallow
shadow, a crow, a cow,  pharaohs.

men on fire and women on spikes, children smiling and casting a storm across the sky,
flooding heaven in a whisper as water begins to pour from the eye to wither.

ashes dance to the winds, swirling and screaming through the smoke only to be cursed and burned, choked without a Phoenix to dream, I will swallow this dusk for a dawn as if I was never born, to mourn my own.

chiseled earth traversed, traveled, levelled, to make way for a travern that follows the winter through the mighty mountains, a fountain that shows one who seeks a face as it fades into the skin of its reflections affection.

skeletons crushed beneath the weight of bricks and stones, seeds sown, meat grown to feed the hunger of a stranger with no home,
claws and knives kept in the belly of a slave wandering in the midst of a cage, a cave with no escape.

slitting the sunlight and offering it to a red morning forming bright halo against the dark surface, a maze, ablaze with the hurried footprints of a sage that turned into a monster and made the cursed cry, a lie, to die for.

illusion of a delusion, evoltuing into a revolting fanatic staring at satanic verses carved on cryptic, epileptic, metallic claws of death.

words eaten by dust as it rust, sprinkling age on the old, cold, sold for a dream that mints insects clinging to the heart of its host, a ghost at most,
a soul to the least, a feast for the diseased
as they keep the ones who would weep in a coffin to sleep.

forming circles in thin air, a mare, a layer of filth emerging from an ocean of bodies floating in the images young and gory,
they will tell you a story and i wouldn't believe me.

in the wake of morrow, swallow the yester tears immersed in the black hue of the lingering silence, violence will crown another king, to sing and bring, wearing skin to hide the monster he became in the blessing of an idol, a crow, a cow, pharaohs.