My eyes plead for sleep, for sleep
But night entreats me to creep, to creep
Out in the black so deep, so deep
And follow the fence so neat, so neat
Up the hill so steep, so steep
Where light shines so meek, so meek
In a cold breeze so weak, so weak
Under a tree that's sharp, not bleak
And do the wild dance for dreams

I write this little narrative
and shall endevour to be brief,
for events that I unburden
may never gain of true belief.
I put to you dear reader
that tomorrow I shall die
for the events that so destroyed me
but with this wording I will try.

As a child I was so happy
and being of good disposition.
I had a fondness for all creatures,
so to care for was my mission.
With my pets as my companions
that such a pleasure is the truth.
I cared, fed and caressed them,
this was the model of my youth.

Into manhood I was pleasant.
A woman sent from God above.
Such a bride that shared my passion
of such animals I love.
Love flourished inside our home life
Our demeanour was one of that,
so we puchased gold fish and a rabbit,
a small monkey and black cat.

'Pluto' purred a lovely song,
readilly did steel my heart.
He was large, soft and so loving
and from my side was hard to part.
This large black cat worried my wife
as superstitions do so cast.
Though it slackened seriousness
as ancient ideals do not last.

Seven years we were intent
until my character did start to change.
Temperament was quick to follow,
my personality grew strange.
The demon drink was now a worry
when my wife would feel my knuckle.
For one moment I was raged
and the other I would chuckle.

One night upon my return
witha drunken mans' complexion.
Pluto wanting nothing from me
felt irate of rough connection.
Reluctantly he beared down his claw
as from my grasp he tried to fly
and as my blood did slowly trickle
I removed my knife and then his eye.

As the daylight light gave its shine
from the excesses of last eve's gin.
I from remorse supped in excess
Trying to drown this evil sin.
I was weak and so un-trying
lashing out at one and all.
No longer in control of
it seemed my destiny to fall.

Pluto recovered this ordeal,
though eye-less socket was my gift.
I could not be so surprised,
as on my approach he would fly swift.
No longer was he my ally.
No longer was he my friend.
No longer did I drink the *****
but this avoidance would soon end.

He still attended this abode
Wandering with one eyed navigation
Although I felt the pangs of grief
Grief soon changed to irritation.
One morning I did slip a noose
Around poor Pluto's scraggy throat
I hung him from a tree outside
drinking a bottle whilst I gloat.

Against the laws of God I ******
In satisfaction I do wallow
Excuse is this intrusive substance
My own forgiveness do I swallow.
Evil, horror and unkind
Depravity is what I think
These thoughts float freely around my mind
All conjured up from Demon drink.

That night such cruel deed had been done
for something happened so unfair.
As I awoke, my home in flames.
My wealth all gone I felt despair.
On visiting the smouldering ashes
that once I could call my address.
I found almost complete destruction
as i surveyed this total mess.

I came upon just one exception.
The wall where once had stood my bed
A crowd had gathered for some reason,
suprise to me it must be said.
Curiosity drew me closer
To see what they gazed at
and as if graven in bas relief
the figure of a gigantic cat.

Such accuracy it must be said
Stood proudly within the wreck
Above where my head used to rest
A rope about the creature's neck.
When I beheld this apparition,
for scarcely could I regard it less.
feeling terror to the extreme,
drew upon me such untold stress.

I came to think about that night
When fires rage was at its most
That someone must of free'd the feline
Cut it down from hanging post.
Perhaps then thrown through open window
With view to raising me from sleep
Compressed my **** fresh in new plaster
a burnt portrait for me to keep.

Such great impression on my mind.
Phantasms thought could not forget.
feeling such insincere remorse
I chose to search for similar pet.
Whilst I frequented vile haunts
with painstaking examination,
decided cat should be of similar look.
I did not want emancipation.

In a den of vile infamy
Half stupified I sat
When something claimed of my attention
In the form of a black cat.
Hazily I reeled in shock
Was this Pluto in my sight
Until after greater examining
I noticed a splodge of white.

I thought for just one moment
My mind was setting me a test
For Pluto was as black as soot
But this **** wore a white breast.
He came to me immediately
Upon me he did laize
I purchased him right there and then
I smothered him with love and praise.

My wife did so adore this cat.
But for myself after some time
Much love did turn again to loathing
and its presence cringed my spine.
The reason came the next day on
as Inhebriated I was no more
I saw that he had just one eye.
So shocked was I, I think I swore.

My wife was in a happy state
Thinking that my life had changed
Back to my old and wanted ways
Before my life became deranged.
The white mark upon the felines breast
over time appeared to define
Into a picture so distintive.
A Gallows was this eerie sign.

My sanity was in unsolid state
This creature soon to be bereft
Supporting a badge of owners crime
over its Agony and Death.
This brute of similar attribute
To he I had once destroyed,
tormented and most worried me.
My vengeance would not be denied.

My temperence was as a beast
With furious tempers flare
I almost abandoned all this strife
without so much as single care.
One day on household errand
on my brow this cat shone tax.
Whilst in the cellar with the *****
I tried to **** it with an axe.

Guarded by my faithfull wife,
I still remember what she said
Leave this poor dumb creature be.
I left the axe inside her head.
Such ****** was not deliberate
I could not resolve that this be real
but after contemplative time
I knew this crime I must conceal.

I pondered long what course to take
I could not move her by day or night,
must be accomplished down below
to keep this body far from sight.
Encasing her behind the wall
as monks once did in bygone age.
Surrounded now with morter and brick
it was the most solid of cage.

Before the last brick was replaced
I searched the house for Pluto's clone.
No sign was found of one eyed tom,
my persecutor had gone to roam.
I looked with pride at job well done.
Such rendering was no disgrace,
nothing toward had happened here
with everything nicely in its place.

I searched again to find the beast
he that to me did not impress.
Although I'd killed I slept so tranquil.
My mood did qualm and I felt fresh.
Second and third days came and went
But feline never made a show
He must of truly read my mind
Decided safer he should go.

The fourth day after assassination,
Police came around this place to delve.
After a most intense exploration,
suspiscion they decide to shelve.
In my triumph I did take on pride,
I pointed out this house so stout
and taking up my wooden cane
I gave the wall a hearty clout.

May the lord deliver me
from the fangs of acrid friend.
For squeeling came from beyond that wall
leaving my secret at an end.
In my haste to hide my sin,
I hid the corpse and cleared the room
It seems the brute had never gone
Instead it hid inside the tomb.

Here I stand in readiness
these gallows wanting company
and with this rope around my neck
it seems my wife I will soon see.
If only ego had refrained
and with that cane I'd caused no fuss,
perhaps they may never of heard
the reply from that old black ****

As the time that went sour,
And all the wet pillows
that were dried on The Sun,
As all the times my heart broke,
were never cured,
even by the close ones, And
All the ones that wanted
me to change no matter what,
Never happened, And they feared,
The time it happens, None
I will be able to perceive.
I didn't endevour change, as
my fear for it was undoubted.

Ow God, What have you done,
It happened, What I always
feared about, has happened,
This Pisces fish has turned
to sail a different way,
to never come back,
As the rumour say.
The good in me is now dead,
And the worse, now prevails,
As the ones who killed it,
are the ones, for whom
I, at last, did change.....

i have an ongoing
love affair
with words
that roll around your
mouth

luscious, langourous
lilliputitian letters

sensual syllables
slick- sliding off
the tongue

ecstatic explosions,
erupting, erogenously
exciting, eager exclaimations,
of enraptured exualtations

organic, original orientations
of teeth and tongue
producing oodles,
of apogeic anomolies

my affair
accomplishes much
for little

it is you see
just a not so secret love
of letter, line, jot and tittle.

a casting eye upon a word
and i am set rushing
down a path
reserved for those
with terms, descriptive,
and names.
that in themselves,
decry
wordlove.

lexicographers and bibliophiles
phoneologists, linguists, polygots,
jonguluers, wordsmiths scribes
poets.

all possess this
heartstringed
tangled knot,
spiderwebbed
feeling,
for words.
which, we then,
endevour to spin,
into inkstained beauty,
to ensare
ourselves ...and others.

At times I confess,
The follies that are part of me,
The bane of being human,
Force me to find recluse in solitude,
Away from the squabbles of mortal men,
Who fight for things immaterial,
Spurning things that they should endevour to have.
Alas, it shames me not,
That solitude at times,
Rejuvenates some hidden part of myself,
A resevoir refilled, replenished.
I spend my time alone,
Listening to the solitary wind,
Or to the beats of some bard’s song,
Uncovering meaning in both.
But I must admit there are times,
When I watch lovers entwined in a casual embrace,
Or a child’s loving gaze at his parent,
And realization strikes me.
Although I like being alone at times,
The wine of loneliness bitters my withered soul.

There’s a place printed in the horizon construed with profound love concealed inside of your heart
A place where you have never settled your pupils upon
A Place where your ears have never discerned the sounds of
Your fingers have never felt the silk, the delicacy of every breath taken from the erring lips of humanity
A place brighter than the coruscation of stars
Shinier than the shimmers reflected from the depth of the soul

Symmetrical

It feels like I'm in a zombie apocalypse; find myself captured and incarcerated in a tempest.
As the color of the sky changes I hear of deaths and rages
From all people of different ages scared of what the world will bring to them
So they forget that the world is their home when they shed blood, like rusty leaves dragged across the streets by the wind
I forget that I am a dark room
Consumed in silence, devoured by renaissance of hate

Salutes and whistling hoots
Upon those calling for destruction
The world that our souls abide in isn't one with sound security
The large books of recovery sit closely
Protected by clowns with crowns on straight hair or conrows
I wonder what's its like to be liberty's foe
Freedom is woman everyone is dying to have in their lives
If it was so much as an illusion then i guess its best that we sustain our "rights"  in these times
It's hard to find a voice when they've stripped us of our identity from the day we were born
Built the best nests of the finest twigs
With coatings of racist remarks and destruction's darks

At school we were always told to add  white paint to the black
Never the black to the white
See the notion of white savior pigmented minds, polluted hearts tracing hues of  charcoal
Now the kids have gone wild color blind and left trapped to choose between black or white then  red and blue
Gang signs and colored shoes
As if the bloods infuse
transfusion of life
and the crips buy you a pack of chips
these kids dont realize that the very pigments are of the same shade, the blood that runs in their arteries
Dripping like raindrops suspended from the deepest cut found scarred in their lips
Blue, the hue of the sky
They wished they knew their own mothers just as well as they knew *******


This is the place you live. It’s a place of recognition
A place where your heart never loved
A place where pointing fingers never pointed back at yourself
A place where you wake up every day smelling the burning of organic coal
A place where the drums of your ears scream damaged
A place where every print carved into your fingers cry for freedom
A place darker than obsidian
Darker than the grains of asphalt making up the patterned flesh

Fashioned

The sun wears its mask pretty well
As though every day is a masquerade it chooses not to lose the praise it stains in the t – shirts we wear everyday
Hear it in the thoughts of our prayers
It was always the mind that played in its forceful nature, a couple of shots to make your skin thicker, hands tougher, the teeth of your comb harder to brush of the falling debris in your roots and you still stutter.
The relapse of your words,silent screams contained to endevour all its pleasures
A heart yet pure in its majesty forever...skin smooth enough to pile a 1000 sins in the gutter
T shirt stains, pockets of memories to remember...
"Its so hard for anyone to show us how we look and its so hard for us to show anyone how we feel"
But its only when we directly stare at the sun, do we see the silhouettes of carelessness

Cult is not a religion that could
allow diversity of thoughts and belief.
It demands conformity and exerts control
over the thought of its subjects.
Any deviation is punished severely.
All dictatorships are harmful but religious dictatorship is the worst of all.
All political doctrines,
whether leftist or rightist,
once proven false, are abandoned,
but religious fallacies endure,
coz they're believed to be from God and therefore infallible.
" The heaven and earth can pass but the
word of God won't."
Rational people are willing to accept its
irrationality and philosophers
endevour to rationalize and legitimize them for intellectuals' consumption.
But lies are lies, no matter
how elaborated they're and how
long they have survived.
General acceptance of a lie, does not
make it truth, nor universal rejection of truth would eclipse it's
splendor....

to the stones,
i poured their water ration,
but they seemed to,
be imitating ducks
and off their backs,
it rolled.

i spoke loudly,
to the clouds,
that hovered,
overhead
but they just scowled
and turned their
faces to the sun.

so, my next endevour,
is to re-arrange,
the sand dunes.
i think, that will be fun.

so set off i must,
with my bucket
and *****,
for it will
only ever get
finished,
once i
have begun.

Last nights phrases,

The points were impressive,

They stuck out like sore thumbs,

It helped push up a lot of my daises.





Large was the pawn I held,

It fell and broke into pieces.

I picked every part up

When it was fixed,

It was half missing!



I asked you for an hour, you gave me a quarter,

Full of your patter.

It did not matter.

I do love your chatter.



Searching for the inner matter,

I thought of your gift of never,

I certainly no longer felt clever.

However, I endevour to be your

Friend forever



We loved all weather

When we were together



Have you forgotten?

You can be really rotten

sometimes when i
contemplate the art
of grocery shopping

i yearn for much simpler
days

when butter was just butter
and no one knew the harm
that it could do..

those days when you did n't
worry about milk
simply because it was
delivered in clinking glass
bottles right to your door

when you knew the butcher
who cut up the cow
and you knew that the pork
sausages came from the pig.

and when your mum
sent you to get the fish
she sent you with a clean
pottery dish

those day of yore
when fifty cents would
buy a coke some chips
a sherbet bomb and more.

but those day are long gone
and i must move on

so again when i shop
tommorrow
i will stand in front of the
twenty brands of margerine
spreads and butter
and endevour not to mutter
about the fact
that butter is still, just butter.

What is the subject matter?
That's a matter of Creative Problem Solving
on the part of the Artist:

Does poetry have to be emotionally rooted?
No!
Does it work really well for emotional release?
**** yeah!
Can it be an enriching endevour into Logic and Philosophy?
Of course!
Does that get old?
..
I plead the Fifth.

Night yields to love alone,
light shines on the room unknown.
Flirting eyes sets tonight's tone,
bodies start moving like they're not their own.

Dance by yourself when you see him there,
seductive imagination and rotation for her to bare.
Neo romance sparks their intuition,
Sprint a little faster and take your position.

Anxious smile meet her blue gaze,
teasing flowing whirling spinning prism.
Burning hands touch her fiery dance maze,
body language starts to decor the rainbow rhythm.

Stopping cold when the sound breaks the illusion,
a new embrace becomes their revolution.
Charmed lips close in as a kiss is born,
a new blissful love has been sworn!

"My heart feels really bright", she said
he smiled back as away with her, he led.
"Be my girl, this night", he said
as from the floor they swiftly fled.

Moonlight adorns the pretty weather,
magic scene of them holding hands like a tether.
Secrets give way to a fresh endevour
that will make them be together forever.

NAPO WRIMO

Next month is  Poetry Month
Why not, endevour to write
a poem a day from provided prompt
Stretch yourself, find new sources of creativity.
Discover new poets, new resources,
Celebrate yourself and other poets
Check out the website:
http://www.napowrimo.net/

Dark and stormy weather
Nothing's better
Than the feeling of the mist in the air
Not a thought of despair
Looms in the air

Dark clouds bring the feeling of sadness
Is it madness
That it feels so right
Dim lights set the mood
For what we're about to do

Wisk away in the rain
Helping keep you sane
Can't you see
This is how it's supposed to be
A kind of free

You and I forever
Throughout this endevour
Not a soul can severe
These bonds we've made
Under the gray blue clouds
As we fall under the shroud
-Cnk

From deep below your throat
It would seem your words appear
Provoking more than pain
with a tinge more of fear

It seems every time you open your mouth
All those words broken
Cut me like razor blades
Every sharpened word spoken

But listen on
this torture I must endevour
Unlike my fresh wounds
These scars will last forever

And as every piercing word
echos through and destroys my mind
every shred of hope, respect
and confidence I may ever find

But know you what you say
is for yourself protect
Not realizing that your words
will give me nights of sleeplessness

And even though we are foolish
and still rather young
For the toxic things you say to me
I hope you choke on your own tongue

I sit here in my humble abode
Wondering the meaning of my life
Twiddling the facts of reality
Drawing on my past experiences
How can I love so inexplicably
Why is it so hard to find the same
To love ones weirdness. All their flaws
I found that with you.
Yet unrequited those terms and conditions are
I who love you no matter.
Never once considering looking back
You're perfect in all the stunning beauty you glow
But myself put so high on a pedestal
Could not meet your expectations
And here I am fallen aback
Questioning my choices to be an open book for you
Nevertheless I press forward
Pursuing the partnership I desire with you
Building my self, my confidence, my love,
My future, my home, my life.
Am I alone in this endevour?
Or have I found a partner who will walk hand in hand.

as he changed his words, the pictures changed.

a new meaning , a new endevour. i still think of him.

things move slowly steadily as snails in the garden,
yet, as i watched the fire, felt the heat, we started moving
toward america.

sbm

i never, ever, never ever got my head around this... you know that they needed healthy slaves to export to america, yes? yes, yes, we know that white men can't jump, as taught by wesley snipes, that said: black men can't swim; but how the **** did these white boys catch a usain bolt, without injuring him?! you smell that? i swear i'm getting a whiff of salmon, or cod, definitely not haddock, maybe, but certainly not herring... how the **** do you catch an agile african when you can't (a) injure him or (b) out-run him?! probably as mysterious as the: ******* architectural endevour at giza!

this has to be, the shittest song,
  with, probably the best intro ever conjured...
and that qualifies it as a carlsberg moment of
inquisition - none other than?
   iron maiden's
    *the loneliness of the long
distance runner...
from the album lost in time...
competing?
well, obviously
with a solo section
from afraid of the dark song
afraid to shoot strangers...
a solo that's an
   anti-solo ****-project...
a solo section that
doubles up as a rhythm section...
with paul di'anno
they're hardly metal -
more akin to punk...
sure some accents of high-tier
guitars,
   but they were still heavy
on the rhythm;
and if they kept him?
they'd be regarded as punk:
are we agreed that
the fun part outside of
philosophy in applying
dialectics is also beyond
that reach of diacritical markers,
that simply
invokes the pleasurable debate
of music?
   seems the only thing
worthy of applied dialectics
is music bound, and music alone...
afraid to shoot strangers
has a rhythm solo that nothing
can beat...
    and the loneliness of
the long distance runner the best
intro, but subsequently the shittest
follow up...
   you begin listening and drinking
a carlsberg, which ends up
as dog's ****:
i really hope they rewrite
that song...
  i'd love to hear it, one more
time: as it should be heard,
invoking the melody
from genesis,
           to the zenith of an exodus
    into silence;
with paul di'anno they're still
punk to me...
    defining a newly emerging genre:
trash metal, post-scriptum to punk...
oh forget thrash metal...
      jeff hanneman died...
   as did the "****-fluence" -
                ****** was in the driving
seat... much of what the album
reign in blood was, was his
wehrmacht heritage...
                  now that's missing...
   so there's really nothing else to really
talk about...
              oh yeah... my grandmother
was given opiates to stop her from screaming
when my great-grandmother / father hid
from the army of the wehrmacht...
                          when they raided the villages
and killed my great-grandmother's brothers...
yeah, she lived to be 91...
   i still remember summers playing
with my aunt and uncle (conceived late,
nearly my own age at the time)
over the past span of memory reaching
toward the 3rd decade...
which makes someone who's english
or american suggest i'm ****...
          that bit is ******* hilarious!
it's almost the same moment
(with regards to feeling) of feeding these
idiot to wild boars in that
   famous hannibal scene...
i just want to hear their moaning-in-agony
joke regarding pigs:
    oink...        oink?! you sure?
pretentious half-caste ******* sons
of wenches...
        i said it already!
a stick had to ends! you think the seesaw
doesn't allow someone to grip the staff
once being hit with it, on the opposite end
of the spectrum?
well, **** me! sign me up!
     maybe you knew memebers of
your family, directly affected
by the second world war...
                let hear that recital
about the horrors of the london blitz...
i'm just... dying to know
   about horrors you endured...
and how you bred these ignorant,
half-baked cookies of a worth of a people...
who can spend hour concentrating
on an advert,
   but treat actual books as
                                         doorstops.

The blood has gone cold
Spilled beneath an indifferent Moon
The hunt rages ever on
Though it is a hopeless endevour
For all in time become beasts
Spilling first their own blood
And then that of others
Ceaselessly, endlessly
Until the Old Ones return
If they indeed themselves
Are not long rotten and dead

Galaxies revolve
Beyond the silver light
That the moon pours down
Through the great winds

Like honey flowing
Ever so slowly
Does the light endevour
To reach us here below

And when it does
There is a stillness
Unlike any known
Which puts the soul at ease

But that calm is brief
Whisked away in the breeze
Of ever changing winds
And the poisonous churn of time

Boarded the same train
Striking out at different stations
Disembarking on their destinations
These are Saints famous quotations

Guard waves the flag
Whistle blows and train moves
Wheels rolling on the tracks pulling carriages one by one

Waiting for none
Father mother son
Safely till terminus
Source or end not its business

This is the Anectode
Told as an antidote
Paradigm of reality
Remain balanced emotionally

Harsh in its execution
To its duty alone devotion
Needles move to declare
Time to leave fair and square

Loosing loved ones
Easily said than done
Unless heart made of stone
Rest of an living life live  alone

Missing the ones
Not left as bygones
Core of any philosophy
The message it carries

Permanence in temporary
Reality in reality
Realising the reality
Temporal is temporary

Real and unreal
Permanent and temporary
Dream and reality
Rebirth and Salvation

Clueless at arrival
Clueless in queue
Clueless as traveller
Clueless in departure

How does it matter
Near and dear exit earlier
Everyone is exciting for sure
No exception no answer

Pulling the chain
Trains holy grail
Hangs as temptation
No points for engaging in that action

Be the driver
Engaging in his endevour
Uniform and recruited as soldier
He too exits but till then deliver