Like a vicious circle you can spiral,
like a wheel within a wheel,
like a odd sock without a purpose,
forgetting how to smile or feel.

Like walking slow but holding scissors,
and ignoring an untied lace,
like being still in moving traffic,
knowing where you are, but out of place.

These are the images and stuff,
when you don't get out enough.

Like a needle stuck on record,
trapped in a carnival balloon,
like drip of a tap becomes your heartbeat,
quenching your sun to cool to moon,

Like pacing blind within a circle,
like the wringing of broken hands,
like a frozen clock face crying,
at frozen grains in hourglass sands.

These are the images and stuff,
if you just don't get out enough.

Like a day as nights not sleeping,
like a limbo forged from choice,
like watching life flash by your window,
screaming warning with no voice.

Like mental weather that can chill you,
with silken "words of truth" you wish not hear,
like in a  bag your slowly drowning,
weighted with false strengths, to mask a fear.

These are the images and stuff,
when you just don't get out enough.

Like a circle in a spiral,
like a wheel within a wheel,
like soothing surrogate emotions,
like you must dwell on what you feel.

These are the images and stuff,
if you...just cant...get out enough!

You are brilliant! Amazing!
And so is everyone around you!
People can be a bit”insular”with a personal space,
But at the end of the day what's new?

The world is beautiful, beyond compare,
to the broadest of imaginations,
and a world of light, and love, yes love!
Despite its procrastinations.

Of change I speak, where we all go wow!
All or nothing, double or quits! Clear the air.
We’ve so much to worry about, just as it is?
A dilutive duty to care, yeah.

But we'll crack on regardless you and I,
a penny for a thought in our jar!
Because I thought I'd take the time to remind you,
of just how brilliant and amazing you are.

Our skies above us thump with the restless steps of Ahab,
amongst harpoon stumps and lines, to our white whale,
democracy he cried, as he beckon, he beckons!
To take all to watery depth, for we are not fit to sail.

Smashed boat and bone, soon put pay to all legend,
the ropes uncoiled as harpoon cut the air,
how many barrels gained from this ****** task I ask again,
as our white Devil wait, biding time for those that dare.

Row boys row, and sing to beat of drum!
Our cause be just, despite this crimson moan,
our answers long since enemy, we harvest for good of all,
though some return less limbed, now sporting white whales bone.

He beckons, he beckons! Crucified with ropes,
how many barrels shall we harvest from this task,
for cursed is the journey, and mission we now engage,
though make my mark to sail, though where we sail not ask.

Slice the blubber, fetch the cauldron, light the fires,
should we question commerce, and falter all its goals,
we fill the hold of dear old Pequod, for duty wage and Ahab,
till ships profit met, its owners own our souls.

One day we smelled land, where there be no land,
our watch then cried aloft, the games begun,
clung to rigging knuckles white, our captain did take sight,
though scarred of secret battle to be won.

And so he will rise again and beckon, yes beckon,
selfish needs shall curse to devour all those in reach,
scarred souls shall tarnish all, shared fate will now befall,
sanity beyond all method, to impeach.

We light the lamps of life's expansion and requirement,
respected in endeavour fulfilled of needs,
this white fiend shall take us deep, all cursed, no rest nor sleep,
for what we need serves deeper needs, of which now it feeds.

Nantucket is but a memory, as I row,
and who am I to question captain, or as such my part,
needs of world and commerce damns me, damns me to the depths.
For I followed Ahab, and did not seek to see his chart.


Call me Ishmael.

A note to all who pass these words,
before they fade or be took down,
its pretense ignored a life is full,
for in hourglass sands we drown.

Heed these words less fade as much,
to mere rumour upon your way,
but warned you were, of days ignored,
        by you, of then,.. today.

I am the measure of your day and its demeanour,
also with you everywhere, silently proud.
I am but a whisper sometimes, of a corner to some,
though to you, If needed,  aloud.

I am not of unlimited resource,
for I always spin plates, as much as most.
I am by design, something you not resign,
As is the boldness of my post.

We are many everywhere, we are countless,
and known to meet of strength, though also prone.
To be met by many silent things, all within this world,
that we must sometimes all of us,  undertake alone.

For alas we may not be everywhere at once dear friends,
though draw strength from such kin, for we are of legions,
I am influence, and so are you, all around this globe,
We are all one,  and inherent in all regions.

We are conscience.

Of youth mine eyes would not bear the sun,
this ball of gold, my friend, my light,
It warmed my bones, empowered my play,
whispered fear not of the night.

We ran together and rested spent,
shared smile and skies embrace,
first friend each day, awoke to greet,
bid play, as warm my face.

Our time of golden was our friend,
for we forget to soon our smile,
lest forget we shall our friendship past,
of years through slight and guile.

As man grown, mine eyes now bear the sun,
for they are older, and shall see more,
I remember friend our summers past,
and love each day, as taught before.

My brain is in a jar, I sense my bodies image through the glass,
I am still, the odd bubble tickles my brow, within this vessel clear,
I am just, well , I am, I am here before me now at least,
my brain is in a jar, I cannot speak, let alone me hear.

To have hands and feet I would escape this jar,
clamber from my prison clear, drag myself from liquids blur,
and not slap to floor “marooned” like a jellyfish void of mass,
beyond this glass what horrors hidden shall occur.

There is no point asking of him, for he is a fool,
I would not trust those cradled hands to make me free,
why trust to fool who placed me here, of diminished responsibility,
and have audacity to retain my eyes, though never see.

My brain is in a jar, I merely feel my outer space,
he reflects upon ourselfs, and how best protect us both from harm,
I know he is leaning forward now, nose upon glass so curious,
I hold motionless and mute, a silent veil of calm.

   Maybe he will leave with me today, visiting time is soon over,
I have exhausted all ways to reassure, I did not wish to offend,
I merely wished be used in ways, that could benefit our days,
yet he is in fear of change, and no longer feels me friend.

My brain is in a jar.