It’s bad enough being governed by tossers
but those who might lie about what they’ve
done to prove they deserve their title;
changing diaries, blogs and saying, well
we didn’t get the e-mail…No, honestly - no note!
Well listen to me you tosspot - you ain’t got my vote!

Politicians who don’t take steps to deal
with crises on a Friday - but put it off till Monday
‘cos, well, it’s the weekend - and we don’t do weekends…
Well, I know I’m not even a cog in the wheel…
but I AM a voter… and, you posh-boy procrastinators
whilst your **** points downwards - No sir!
I ain’t your voter!

If everything’s unprecedented, exponential - non essential
that just means you failed… your eye wasn’t on the ball - you bailed!
Countries that tumbled first surely that put the writing on the wall.
That should have given you a clue - but no - not with you.
Cobra? Err, sorry couldn’t do the first five…
Shame mate - ‘cos half of those that died might still have been alive.
You ain’t got my vote!

So how can you do it? What? Well, make amends!
I’ve got a good idea -  why not work weekends!
And, while you’re at it why not just own up
to not coping very well. The Game’s up!
And, after you’re voted out next time
just go to hell! You ain’t got my vote!
Is that the door?… I’ll get my coat!

The truth,
The lies,
The pleasure,
And love,
All things that when told,
Still have a time when it hurts...

You come at the best of times,
And the hardest part is when I cannot cry,
You leave me here to lie between,
Beddings and sheets,
And as much as one cares to weep,
You instill this repercussion of my sanity,
Leaving a shut down,
Like when a computer... shuts down,
However it's crazy right?
How the shut down leads to a standby,
But when you're dealing with two parts,
It is not the machine no,
But merely the display,
As it, replays a signal,
That there is no signal,
There is nothing feeding the monitor,
There is no rest for the screen,
Always on,
Slowly.... dying,

As soon as it activates,
It is consuming,
Consuming the complex knowledge,
Energy,
And memory,
Of what is,
Was,
or will be,
And what became,
To create the distinction and difference between man and machine,
Is the stand,
And the costume,

As I stand here,
Staring at what is merely the imaginative reality,
The one I've always talked,
Dreamed,
Discussed...
What is the truth,
The lie,
When I love,
Hate the feeling,
I told myself,

When you are on the other side...
Does it still hurt?

the better part of last-minute
and i spend it staring at your lips;
the poems spill out of your mouth
and stain my hand-me-down rug;
as if our brokenness is compatible,
my masochism needs company
and you are eager to disappoint.
the tongues and whispers of secrets
in a cyclical nature; i have been here before.
the familiarity the fear the focus:
the fallacy of finding love in an empty heart.

If the truth is a lie,
Does that make a lie the truth?
Or is it simply denial?
Another example of the mind
Trying to find meaning
When it comes across something
It doesn't understand?

Suspire heavily, 'tis a garden of demise.
In amid of prolonged night it blooms.
Sea of night shines long and bright,
Methinks the stars are to blame.
Under such folly the garden dwells.
Nigh onto the envious dawn.

I felt the velvety dews,
Lying at peace over the willows.
Owls of Minerva hoot unsung beauty.
Vile are the fruits of life that demise withhold,
Endeavoured with the phantom of false.

Yes ‘tis our garden.
Ornaments of life violate to death,
Under this night where the cursed garden dwells.

always at the edge
of taking flight;
not knowing you would fall-
or simply not believing it
my lovely Icarus,
taking to the sky
tell me you'll return
indulge me one more lie

White lies
Will be getting darker
As a matter of time!