6 happy songs

1. Oui hear
What we appear
What, we appear?
What
Where

Capturing the in
The expressable in it
Capped in it
In
Into

Together to gather
To Get Her - To Gat Her
Two Gets-together
Gether
Glather

Troubling isn't it
Very troubling
Trouble some
Some troubles in ning
Inklings
Inner rings

Der Rinks
Der

2. Vert
Over therr
Overt therr
Knew a woman who was livin
Oh Vert Herr!

Oh Vert Herr!
Over therr
Err a woman who is livin
Oh Vert therr!
Err
Err

3. Bleu
A cloud farmer
I eye the sky
Eye the sky
Eye the sky
A cloud farmer
I eye the skye
Eye the sky
Wide

4. Blanc
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blanking blank
Blank


5. Rouge
They come to me in ones and twos
Ones and twos
Ones and twos
They come to me in
Ones and twos
Ones and twos it's
True


6. Noir
Brush away noir noir
Brush away noir
Brush away noir noir
Noir noir no
More No more
Noir noir no
Moe

I realized I liked you when
our eyes met then I immediately
looked away as if it was the first time
I laid my eyes on you.

I realized I liked you when
I made a list of things we could
talk about but ended up blanking out
when I started talking to you.

I realized I’ve fallen for you when
we were in a concert and you
accompanied me throughout the night.
I knew my heart was pounding not from
the loud speakers but from you
being so close to me.

I realized I’ve fallen for you when
I got nervous and you held my hand,
comforting me with no words said;
contented with how our fingers
interlaced with one another.

I realized I loved you when
I started writing about you and
our happy moments that now have
turned into memories.

I realized I loved you when
I turned you into poetry.

Serendipity.
You ******* what!
What you saying, pal?
Serendipity, oh aye, all right,
Aye, seren-******-dipity; whatever!
Tell it to the raggedy soaked-wino,
Look into his rheumy eyes, really look,
Want to kiss his toothless grin, eh? Do you?
Feel his sore-ridden tongue searching you out,
Nay, I thought not, anyway, he hears nothing,
Nothing except the rattle of change.

Tell it to the punctured ******, go on,
Cold body on a cold linoleum floor,
He can’t hear you either, maybe though,
Maybe, slipping away on the last tide of life,
Do-gooder, maybe he will hear you call,
‘Serendipity’ and wonder: what the ****?
Until blackness closes in, blanking the stars.

Tell it to the Fourth Bridge jumpers, go on,
Always falling; to them, falling forever,
In hearts and minds, the event horizon of death,
Trapped in limbo, leaving unbearable hurt behind,
Along with serendipity and bad choices.

And the young, oh they need serendipity,
Cruelty of life glittering in furtive wary eyes,
Old already, far beyond halcyon blue-skies,
Used and abused by those closest, the shame,
Erosion of trust and sincerity completed over night,
Christmas ghosts: slovenly laggards by comparison.

Resilient youth! Yep, they ******* need to be,
Grinding machine of town-life hunting them,
Scouring dark corners, gnashing jaws growling,
Crunching down darkened alleys, feeding,
Lapping up the young blood of runaways,
Slavering maw eating them alive; laughing.

With serendipity, they can lie low, maybe hide,
Dream of escape, for they all want out,
Putting misery behind them, quelling cruelty,
After all, they live in a lucky ******* town,
So escape is not impossible, no,
Unlikely, yes, poor wee *******.

Serendipity should shout a loud warning,
Run, scrawny urchins, run if you can,
Run for your lives, the rest of your lives,
Town-life’s grinding machine awaits,
Watches for you, so keep running,
Never stop, never look back,
Not ever, not ever,
Serendipity.

©Paul Chafer 2014

Blank..
blanking out.
it seems to be my mind state,
at least when i bounce back from feeling irate.
Its not hate that gets me into this mind frame.
its just a shame that i'm stuck within this life game.
Another same day just like the last.
Never really knowing if this moment will pass.
All i can do..
is become part of the void,
just a toy in the ploy of somebody else's joy.
Not My own.
i live in desolate zones.
All alone.
Free of clones..
but always surrounded by them.
As they constitute the laws so i could be governed by them.
i could be me,
as long as its appropriate to them.
If i'm true to myself, it'll count as a sin.
Everyone is assigned a designated identity.
Always remember who that is if you want friends instead of enemies.
Be yourself to the extent its allowed.
Don't rock the boat, unless your ready to drown..
or swim oceans for years. until the idea of stable lands bring you to tears.
Just be safe.
just be happy.
deny that life can be ******.
dont be be you.
dont even find out who that is.
live the status quo, and treat people and life like a business.
Or swim until your lungs collapse.
Or swim hard and fast until you create a tsunami smash, and take back some land.
Create your own laws.
Live your own life.
The life you were meant for.
The life we all want but think impossible.
create it....
Or choose how you would like this journey to end...
Spiritually or physically.

Lace and old scraps of paper
buried deep in my heart
Lined my pockets once I see
but they tore apart.
They dwell on my mind
wafting through my being
Distorting images, blanking out
from what I ought to be seeing.

Maiden, maiden, maiden, a depilidate mobious minaret –
Holical, Eris begs an atlatl defection, the
Genuis-from-Mars technique – an erathicus lecanopteris.
Suffretex, past-perfection in pastel gloxinia,
Glowingly acidic and shiftingly glossidic, it’s cosmaltry mariala;
Ungual outmoded, holonym singing Aquilar rapax as demiurge.
Demos and Phobos weep, coruscating terrathos, killing riva.

Swell quickly, optic ophidia, lest the ira florena rise –
Rise, maiden, rise optic ophidia, ignore Irredelphine!
Strut the hematacolpa and pace-willow, but fail flow:
Deciduous telechir beckons, demanding autobogotic-hajra.
****-venom and picea hovea, eche verri naught echo –
Beta-decay and COBOL error, fandango with teeth
And sing praise for Eucladanic soignè solaris

Sprint quick, maiden-solidago gesparisè, to Misra pourum!
Majerns and hapax, death-knell aloud and encelia,
Enfloranè, haste! Enatic haste tichodrome, flee, anise!
Apios, harken: tryst-sans-thermobic sweeping of thresher-thrown,
Little-low else yet achroma, de-jubilance:
Fall fairly, ayah! So to be so, blanking systemic,
A thousand steps for one death.

one five foot seven
teardrop fountain
forgetting to exhale while
remembering to drink down fast
the bitter green elixir to stretch out
widen the space between thought and thought
to soften up and fall out through the faulty wire frame.
slip out in pieces
so carefully dissipate, recede
draw in and drop out
to ready for the blow

After years of bleeding
Seeing society retreating
On oil slick sands
On bible belts
And boy bands
The world is ovulating
Waiting for the impregnation
Of a dreamer’s nation
Intertwine
With an age of the mind

The birthing pangs
Blanking on the dark ages
Yet we cycle back
Again
Rising up from
The ocean’s foam
Then sinking
Deeply into
Their dark depths

Another age of greatness is due
Returning
From the spurning of
Science and poetry

FDR to McCarthy trials
Beatniks to Vietnam
The Roman Empire
To the dark ages
The last sages
Got trampled on the road to war
The great poets
Frequently ignored
But it’s time
For another revolution
Evolution
End of pollution
And the dissolution
Of our greed ran
System man

. . .

Helen sat next to you
on the flat concrete roof
of the brick walled
bomb shelter

out the front
of Banks House
after school
she lifting

and lowering her legs
against the wall
her black battered shoes
making a dull thudding noise

and you sitting dead still
watching her white socks
go up and down
and she said

mum said
I couldn’t bring
Battered Betty
because she’d given her

a wash in the bath
you took in
her thick lens glasses
catching the late

afternoon sunlight
her hair in plaits
her hands placed flat
on either side of her legs

on the concrete roof
and as she spoke
about the doll
you thought about the boys

who said she smelt
of yesterday’s dinners
or called her four eyes
but they were dumbshites

you thought
they didn’t see
the beauty of her
the way her eyes sparkled

behind the lens
or how being next to her
kind of brightened up
the day

not that you’d
tell them that
but you knew it
and they didn’t

and she said
if you close your eyes
you can imagine
we are on a ship

at sea
the grass is the sea
and you said
we could be pirates

I have a sword
my old man made
from steel
and painted blue

and she looked at you
the sunlight blanking out
her eyes and her lips
still speaking

saying things
her words shaped
like diamonds
and she closed her eyes

and so did you
and she put her hand
on yours
and in the darkness

it seemed warm
and smooth
and she said softly
you can save me

from the bad pirates
the ones with eye patches
and black scarves
and scary faces

and you said
yes I could cut them
all down and not miss
and she said

yes and I could be saved
and could give you a kiss
and the ship sailed on
in the dark

behind the eyes
in a world made wonderful
where you could be
8 year old lovers

where no one betrays
and no one dies.

After years of bleeding
Seeing society retreating
On oil slick sands
On bible belts
And boy bands
The world is ovulating
Waiting for the impregnation
Of a dreamer’s nation
Intertwine
With an age of the mind

The birthing pangs
Blanking on the dark ages
Yet we cycle back
Again
Rising up from
The ocean’s foam
Then sinking
Deeply into
Their dark depths

Another age of greatness is due
Returning
From the spurning of
Science and poetry

FDR to McCarthy trials
Beatniks to Vietnam
The Roman Empire
To the dark ages
The last sages
Got trampled on the road to war
The great poets
Frequently ignored
But it’s time
For another revolution
Evolution
The end of pollution
And the dissolution
Of our greed ran
System man

Cope, hope, or catharsis, one
may be forced to choose one
during the bouts

of restraint against release,
of reach before the sigh,
of desire, to control instinct.

Of all inevitability,
daring to call itself proudly by name
on this mercilessly constant tread

of experiencing, each it seems
with a collapsing and rising unique,
Planck’s momentous, memoried,

voice-blanking frames, slightly
shifting and forming (together
we conjecture) the same blurred image

of light, of looking,
of a thought, of a chance,
that maybe,

whether it is instrumentalist hands
or a playerless orchestra bestowing
sound, of granules grinding

over each other, with each
a glance, a lift of a hand,
in disguise of louder music,

that I cannot say is wrenching, that I
cannot say is strident, or sweet or
harmonic or agreeable—just heard somehow,

resonant,
seemingly against silence,
at the seeming heart—

that the note might be
the only one to hope for,
as cope with, as cathect oneself in.

The only one channel to that which,
if heard, will really be heard.
Not a down, then in, then up,

and out, uncertain.
Not a fading with time
or a never heard at all

except for mere murmurings
of chance. Though don’t shrug them.
Be exposed, undeniably, wholly, to them.

These, musicless, can become
still air, still flesh—mystery’s shut mouth.
Something of a mouthless bird.

I do not know how to put this much hurt into words but im going to try.

Loving you is like a reflex.

It's like im screaming I love you I love you I love you and by the time im finished I realize it didn't even hurt that bad and all im left with is a sore throat and a bad taste in my mouth.

I feel like all you're ever doing is whispering.

Stop telling me you love me when the world goes silent

Stop telling me you love me with your hands pressed against my skin

STOP TELLING ME YOU LOVE ME IN HAND GESTURES AND HIEROGLYPHICS WHEN I DESERVE SOMEONE WHO WOULD SHOUT HOW MUCH HE LOVED ME AT THE PEAK OF THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN FOR EVERYONE IN THE WORLD TO HEAR

I am tired of hearing you speak to me in symphonies and blanking out on stage.

I am tired of only being spoken to in body language and im tired of hearing you say sorry like it's my name.

What im trying to say is if practice makes perfect then how come you only ever love me with the lights off?

Down the predestined path my friend
we all walk as friends or enemies
such is the journey of life,
Voices echo through the empty corridors
like the winds breeze flowing across wild seas
Words of love mingle with those of hate
thoughts of good become but reflections of Evil
and we still continue to journey blinded.

The years,the days, but a glimmer of fate
Nations of people,tribes of traditions
calling to each other with voices of threads
and we pull at the strings to gain favours
Collecting our wealth as a weapon
and all falls silent before the mighty pen
Structures confine there realities
blanking out all other dreams and views.

Dust mingles in the rain,as do our hopes
colliding indifference's of home and breed
We shatter the foolish vision with our own uncertainties
crafting our thoughts upon those elemental minds
Taken all that which is natural
replacing them with the modern dream and hope
Some how, believing our dreams to be theirs
a continues mixed emotion upon our planetary plane.

The Gods now fall silent before us
they fail to utter their heavenly decrees
And we portray our mighty Lord and sovereign
upon all and any that can benefit our cause
Once Blue skies now appear musky and gray
Yet,We still fool ourselves as to its beauty
This Globe of Home,our Hearth
lays as wastelands to our goals and dreams.

And here before you lays the words of a humble Poet
reflecting upon the waste and ruin of our times
dried up and gone are all the worlds heroes
No longer is a Saviours face to enlighten our eyes
We have become that which even our fathers feared
that darkened figure of pestilence and decay
Yet with each brush of our economic pen
We whitewash the truth and reality we face.

Are we to sit silently,just watching
that and those that mean so much to life
Do we cut off the hands of the starving brother
when it reaches out for our surplus?
Where do we become so important
what fades within us if not our souls,
Tears encircle the hemisphere look and behold them
The Ghosts of mans conscious haunts his every dwelling.

Where does it end, where did it begin?
Does it simply pass like the ticking of a clock
and of course we all proclaim our innocence
be not fooled, lost nor caught in your mere delusions
Reality shall continue,even when man is long gone
The Stars shall shine as brightly,
the Sun as Warmly
but it shall have lost one of its greatest treasures
that great homosapien that cried before all existence

---------------I AM-----------

(looking blanking into the reflection, lost in thought)
[in thoughts]
?-Why?

?-Why'd you do it?

Me-You made me, you drowned me, killed me.

Me-I don't even get to see myself until I look in the mirror from your eyes

?-You got weak, I helped you get stronger since you asked

Me-I didn't ask, you took over. You burned off my wings, desecrated my armor that I wore honorably.

?-Because you asked for my power, and now you will parish

Me-LIKE HELL I WILL


(looks into the mirror, and punishes it)

[Grabs a piece of glass and crushes it, grabs a bigger edge]

?-So you think you're stronger than me?

Me-If you are a part of me, then you will know that I will crush you

[Fights the temptation to cut myself]

Me- I will win, I have to. I need to tell her, not you.

?-how? HOW ARE YOU SO STRONG!?

Me-Because, she is a part of me. She has my other half, and I won't let you make me destroy myself anymore.

[crushes the edge with the other hand]

Casey... I will make this up... It is my duty to fix this...
I will make this right...
My nightmares are over, the orders are done.
I will not fail...

Athena would want me to get this right, everyone of my friends who I saw get buried would want me to.

I'm sorry...

i try to write some happy rhymes
but it's weird, not what i've done for a long time
i try to think of things to say
but what happy things can i say, when i'm too busy feeling this way
i have a boyfriend so i won't moan
but you're barely ever there, i feel so alone
you spend days ignoring me then say i'm blanking you
but you must not realise you do that to me too
you do it more i ever do
but you don't even have a clue

sometimes i feel like my hearts in a shredder
i'm in so much pain, it feels like it won't ever get better
one minute you care
the next,  you wouldn't dare
one minute, it's like it's true love
the next, to you, i'm just another girl

how can we say we date
when we barely act like mates
we don't talk, hug or kiss
so tell me babe, what is the point of this?
at first, you were so kind
i thought there's no other better person i'd ever find
but you walk straight past me without saying hi
and you don't even bother saying bye

one minute i'm all that you need
then the next, i'm no one you want to be near
one minute you're hugging away all my fears
the next, you're the cause of that pain that sears
through my bones, flesh and heart
slowly and painfully causing it to part
one minute it was me and you against the world
the next, you can't find a single word.

NOPE

BAHAHHAHAHA

junior guards granting a mission to mars

penelope singing sweetly with michalel jackson, creepily cranking out smooth criminal with howling wolf,

mothers bathing their babies in brookes, blessed and stressed and bothered by the milkman

brandy brought in by buccaneers seeps quickly and sours stale tempers

beautiful bodies blanking when naked and with no lighting

coffee stains adding character to create extra bold whiteness for optimists

lovers kissing kindly and collecting each others debts of brokenness

I want to make you all cry
It's good for people to cry
It's better than sitting round miserably
Pretending to laugh
People don't cry enough!
I want to make you all cry
For yourselves and all people who
Don't have to die
For kids who are hungry and put to hard labour
When they should be greedy and pains in the neck
Who know the world is wrong but won't be heard
Who only hear shouting, destruction
And cries of distress
Only our shared tears can clean up this mess

I want to make you all cry
At the shame of getting by
Unable to cope with life's complexities
Or even ask why
Love is never enough!
I want to make you all cry
For yourselves and all people who
Don't have to lie
But must for the sake of our little luxuries
The only way we spread love and happiness
To spite the orders that come from above
“You work your contract or there's the door!”
That's the reason why
We live on lie after lie after lie.

I want to make you all cry
For people you just let go
To politics and the geography
You know, the money
Forcing us to depart!
I want to make you all cry
For the people you must pass by
In your own home
On the street, in the shop and on the TV news
Feeling sorry but too powerless to help
All the problems you deal with by yourself
With nobody knowing to help you
Just trying to smile
At the cruel way the world became so vile

I want to make you all cry
To salute what you see die
In Syria, here and inside yourself
For what? The money?
Global economy?
I want to make you all cry
It's urgent, we must cry today!
It's not too late
To face up to what we've been trying to deny
What we have suffered and what we are losing
Blanking it out with our kind of boozing
Not letting the merciful tears flow
Time to let them go!
To weep and embrace and do what we know.

Space Case is not the advertisement for fear of losing yourself to the very darkness that is blanking out from normal reality and heading into a newer reality, (from which only your own psyche can fictitiously acknowledge, properly).
However way you spin the wonderous find of the gap in your own little sub-space (that is your own even tinier different types of psychological roundabouts...)
Nothing is truly centered in the very lucky situations, where each newly realized predicament isn’t as endearing as you'd first realize them to be.
Carrying out the struggle for the circumstance, that is one's own disembodied state, where such lucky situations...go completely dark!
Now, what's the first ideal of a space case.... Nothing more than what you haven't already knew from before you lost your very first contact with reality.
Since after all, your newly realized ideology is ("reality central") itself!
Things become slightly corrupt when reality central takes center stage, because you have no such management on this sort of (now newly put together source).
It's almost as if you've been entirely thrown into a newer source of energy, that only you and you alone, can bring yourself back out from, (via "your own little reality" itself).
And when your own psyche can once again, fictitiously acknowledge properly, then everything starts to take many tumbles (just so it can reorganize itself back into its original form). Coming directly from the very agreement from its own previous ideals and impressions upon a perspective that danced a little too much), when becoming stuck between two sources of familiar energy sources that signatures the very voice of concern, (or even a voice of caution).
Where everything starts to begin spiraling out of control!
But there's no chaotic tendencies, when consequences become the newer mortality rate...that this very circumstance provides the very presently disturbed predicament that still surrounds itself with such disbelief) over something so sudden, immediate, and radically unexpected!
But that's life, after all. And you can't control what goes on (outside of your own mind's eye). When you truly control what goes on from deep within the very inside itself.
Lastly, what goes around, comes straight on back around...when it truly becomes this scenario (upon many sequences after sequences) that enable you (once again), to hitch up a ride with the very sudden, immediate and radically unexpected realization of such a, well...
Let's pretend (for ONLY just a single moment, before it slips into its own dream sequence or improbable dreamscape, where nothing truly "healthy wise", comes back from that)?!
Which then delivers a type of pressure-free release into (the very such now incredible acknowledgement) of officially knowing that everything that had just built-up (over time) towards this very point in time...
Is nothing more than the ever-lasting, ever-increasingly and never-ending spectacle...of a simulation for "abrupt flaws"!
Because when it comes to such a slithering snake, that is a simulation for abrupt flaws....
Everything begins blurring out of sync!
Then begins distorting the very outside world, as if it was merely a mirage (without "self-acceptance" in itself)!
And when everything completely comes to the very turning point that is fusing together this perfect little bundle of "incomprehensible" joy.
This is when things collapse into a radically self-inducement scenario, where the "head case" (that you once were, on the outside world).
Now officially becomes the newly established Space Case! (Full of primary self-doting commands and actions that consequently, don't fit perfectly in the outside world.
When it was truthfully all about the head case that was meant to evolve into the space case all along.)
"Reality Central" is (as yet again), back up and running!
Begin your newer reality, my friends....
If you’re not already slipping back on into your own such fictitious beliefs again?
When you’re really not accepting the outside world for what it really is. (Except, that's blasphemy!
Only when you don't simply accept your own ideals from within your own heart.)

I found one of my long lost poems!!!
----------------------------------------------------------------­----------------------

Like waking up
Like lying down
Like blanking out
Blink, blink, and all I see is darkness
Piercing, but distant
An unknowing, but growing
Yearning to be let out
Thump, thump; what do you want?
Dazed, thump again, steadying
Hitting the floor, shattering
Glass everywhere
Footsteps; when will they stop? hushed voices
Echoing, illusions; what just happened?
Thump, thump, thump
I can hear your heart
Burdens, regrets, mistakes
Everything runs together
I follow along, and then....no more

Pull up
Parking lot
30 minutes early
Feels like a lot.
A/C doesn't work
Smoke up for nerves
Not the wacky tobaccy
That's just absurd.
Job interview
Clan of the waitressing brood
Make me one of you.
I know how to take orders
And bring out your food.
Take the phone out of my hands
Give my some daily plans
Make my unemployment take a stand.
Save my bank account from blanking
It's not much that I'm asking.
Use the waiting game to plan a conversation
Give me a purpose in this great nation
I have plenty of patience
Unruly folks and their aggrivation.
Waiting on fries and I can shake it.
I spend too much time being white bred.
Clearer head with smokey resolve
Grip my hand and don't do it gently now
Let's them know you mean business
Don't show desperation just to be a waitress.
Give a smile
A joke or two
Don't make me wait
To be one of you.

Ps- if you were curious enough to know
I got the job
And soon I'll have money to show

Wish it would stop raining
Stop humming
Stop thrumming
The crystals of the clouds
collide like kaleidoscope colors
as they melt into each other
on the rugged roof of a
dark home
Wish it would stop raining
Stop silence
Stop distance
The house is deafening empty
emitting the hollowing
like carving out a heart
Wish it would stop raining
Stop thinking
Stop blanking
The relay station is skipping
and skidding cycles like
the record player isn't live
Stop raining

the world is getting worse with all the smoke and fog
as were breathing in our lungs begin to clog.

filling up the air blocking out the light
blanking out the day turning it to night.

spreading its pollution every where goes
getting to your body going through your nose

the world is changing fast everything is strange
global  warming getting worse in its climate change
  
will it ever stop or will there just be fog
will we disappear just vanish in the smog

Volens Nolens
Willing or not


I drink
To think
Myself into
The oblivion
I think
To drink
The alluvion

Sullied on the soil
Of our lost foil
For caresses we coil
Like moths around the light
In the drapes of the night
We have bled,  we make love
In our blue and grey cove

Coloring
The blankness
Blanking the colors
Along the dolors
Of this foolishness
Of this nothingness
Agonizing

Ashore the rivages
Of our images
Numbed by the fresh thick flows
Of their fleshly life’s vows
Reflecting
The four flames
Of our blames

July, 19, 2014

I’m in a psychology class and as part of it we filled out several, detailed, personality evaluations. They said these were helpful in forming a psychological profile of the freshmen classes each year and of particular interest were these COVID years.

The professor said she’d be available, before finals, to review them with us if we were interested - and I volunteered. So in our review we’re going over my results and she says: “Your trauma history could produce this constellation of wit, wiriness and attachment-anxiety.”

I flinch, irritably, thinking, my “trauma history?” What, “trauma history?” Wondering if - maybe the professor was looking at the wrong paper?

She read my reaction and the consternation on my face, started flipping through the papers, and said, “According to the history you submitted, your father was killed when you were seven and you were hospitalized for...”

“***” I thought, blanking out what she was saying, “How could I have forgotten THAT?” Even for a moment. Then I sag with this oppressive, blanket-like wave of guilt at having put the crash so far out of my mind.

“The dismissal of childhood trauma is quite normal,” she said, putting her hand on my arm, “You have to put trauma out of your everyday thoughts - to get on with your life.” She assured me. “It’s quite normal.”

How many blind sides do I have? I wondered

In analysing Time, I decided to escape,
fed up with ageing, so a pause I want to make
so I bought a book called, 'The Power of Now'
staying in the present, it would show me how.

Connect with my inner-self to stay inside my being
not thinking of the future, concentrate on what I'm seeing,
simple tasks to stay focused in the moment
the more I read, the more I liked involvement.

I learned to step out of time dimension
that the future is just a human invention,
no salvation in the past
only the present is built to last.

The mind is an obstacle as thoughts get in the way
not thinking about time, could start to waste my day.
the more I read the words, the longer I dwelled
and realised that Time indeed, could be held.

'Now' is all important, smelling and breathing
taking time to observe and connect with my being
living in the present, not thinking of the future
blanking out the past, not remembering a picture.

I am now brainwashed, cleansed and reborn
my problems are illusions and never even form
free from constraints of the ticking clock
my mind and body are free to run a mock. . .

You say they're killing, they're drilling,
they're willing to steal it,
they're ******, they're blanking,
they're laughing, they're faking,
they're making a fool out of you and of me.

Are you saint then? You say that the satan has changed them
and you cast them with stones and you break their bones,
for they are digging graves, and they smile, laugh and they
when they're burying them alive and listening to their cry,
as it turns into howl and then turns into silence
and when the job is done, they're spitting on heir graves.
But you, are you saint then? Are you better than them,
would you be the one who would say no when asked
to say yes?

Would you hold your head high and be happy to die
for the truth and the freedom and justice?

Are you saint then? Why now
you won't blame anyone? Taking back what you've said,
chickening out.