What kind of a relationship has an expiry date?
28 day return policy
can be returned earlier, but not late,
ensure your rights are protected
that you get your last say

What kind of relationship has an expiry date?
Shirt looks good on the store
Wear it around for a few hours,
get compliments, that fade.
That's okay.
Go back and return it the next day.

What kind of a relationship has an expiry date?
I'm not yesterdays meal
Prepared with care, eaten with vigour,
delicious with flavour
stuffed leftovers into a plastic box
and frozen until you realise
its been in there a month too long
before you chuck it out.

What kind of relationship has an expiry date?
Spoilt milk left out on the kitchen counter
Spilled onto the withering carpet
Desperate to soak through
But the material was so worn
It wouldn't allow it

What kind of relationship has an expiry date?!
Consume within 7 days
If you're finished with it, just throw it away
The clock is ticking, and theres no promise that
this food, will stay

What kind of a relationship has. an. ex. pi. ry. date?
Well, I'll tell you now, mine does.
I guess I'm the only one stupid enough
to fall for someone
who purchases warranty
with every girl he checks at the counter

I never should have entered a relationship with an expiry date.
I guess a girl can hope and a girl can dream
But I know I accepted this fate
I should have never let you in
Now its far too late.

Verse 1:
They say ‘i’ll love you’ 'til the end of time
But has ‘forever’ ever crossed your mind
No you don’t need to count the days
'Cause our love got no expiry date

Verse 2:
Moment we said 'hello', it took me by surprise
From that time on, you gave me butterflies,
No they don't ever fly away
‘Cause of you, our love got no expiry date

Bridge:
We'll both grow
Things can still change,
Pray and hope
Feelings stay,
Our love got no expiry date

Outro:
They say ‘i’ll love you’ 'til the end of time
But as time passes, will you wait by my side?
‘Cause when one day you'll be going,
when I can't make you stay,
Just know my love for you has no expiry date

At a desk, coffee sachets rest.
Long-life milk harbours
white dreams of expiry.
Shuffling in his forgetful nest
a grey man blinks
at the intruding light.

Americo, do you remember
your antique power,
that opened like a rose
on the walls of Hiroshima?

“Haaa,” I sighed, releasing these stale tensions.
“I know it’s not so fair to be upset,”
But talks of ultrasounds and interventions,
Tinge everything that’s right with mild regret.

I sometimes ache for life as told by family photo albums,
And could-be love, as written in that diary,
Since everything once bright eventually succumbs
To  inevitable joy-expiry.

Dr. F. Wilhem discovered it by accident you see?
   The first man downloaded was no longer man.
He suffered dearly until the plug was pulled,
    and we started over again; with biologists.
Geneticists, Embryonticians, TransEugenecists,
    all celebrated the new fast-growing body.
No more deaths at old age expiry, on battlefields.
    for a price all would live eternally; eternity here.

It did not work. The bodies worked, the software recorded
    but the people were insanely bi-polar. Insane in fact.
Until we switched the torso and genetics in tandem.
   then somehow the surviving person retained all memories!
They were in fact; themselves! Just in a different gendered body?
   Unfortunately for everyone this was a major psychological shock.
Unexplainable, sure, evolution took four billion years so...
    ...more time, more time, more experimentation is all we need.

Wilhelm changed it all.
When he added the shock,
added the <human> response,
turning the machines into
Humans.

They are truly A.I.
...verily human in fact.
Animal-ish, peaceful
then angry, terrible or
violent.

Artificially Intelligent;
Humans.



"What good is it to change a person,
              ...merely into someone else?" -Al Abd Azaz


To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

july 2015
the expiry date
imprinted on my back
expired
rotted
vacuum to lose

Accidental introduction
Slow destruction
Deceptive beauty
Slow destruction
Accidental introduction

An invasive species
Not something with which to be reckoned
It can not be reversed
Not something with which to be reckoned
An invasive species

Superficial beauty
Brief Enjoyment
Ruinous existence
Brief Enjoyment
Superficial beauty

Tendrils of beauty
Tendrils of expiry
Self contradictory by definition
Tendrils of expiry
Tendrils of beauty

Taking everything needed for continuance of self
Removing what is needed for existence of everything else
Choking a red-faced, forlorn life
Removing what is needed for existence of everything else
Taking everything needed for continuance of self

There is no escape
The reach has extended too far for reversal
All that is left is acceptance of destruction
The reach has extended too far for reversal
There is no escape

There is no escape

the green grove a magnet to my eye
on these sun baked plains

I enter the glade to take shade with the cicadas
and vampire mosquitos

then I see it, Eden’s villain, coiled and rattling,
red ready to strike

I raise my staff, I too programmed to survive, do to what millennia
have taught

still we are in this staring standoff—silent save its rattle, deaf
I am to the chorus of insects

neither of us moves for an eternity of seconds, until the snake lunges at my feet

where its fangs find a field mouse, and devour it while I watch, an unwitting witness to expiry other than my own  

I leave the copse, whole, content another creature has, for today, taken my place in the bloodletting

Very often I heard them say
Wedding bliss is short term, temporary
Honeymoon over and here comes the reality
Ohh really? A wedding bliss has a date expiry?

When you agreed to make that wedding vow
Relationship is sealed, the bonds of matrimony
To love to live with someone for eternity
Tell me in which line of the wedding vow
… did you ever say, TEMPORARY?

Lifetime commitment is never that easy…
Our Love travels sometimes in a smooth journey
Sometimes love puts us into a rough situation
A twist of love and life… of loyalty and commitment
sometimes the test is tough… almost unimaginable…
so we Hurt each other till we bleed inside
we are clever but we sometimes act like fool

Searching for perfection in imperfection
No relationship is perfect, we both knew
But still we hurt and leave the scars open…
Wedding bliss never let it be temporary…

Upon your eyes there is the man… there is the woman
Sometime ago he/she was the one who drove you so crazy
Who stole your nights and days talking sweet nonsense…
Who put a smile on your face
till you vowed not to cry again

Let this wedding bliss be forever…
If we should take that vow we made once again…
Let us do…
Despite of everything that we’ve gone through
Good or bad,
The bliss is there… surrounds us..
Till death do us part
We are here to stay in a blissful marriage…
Wedding bliss is forever…
By Rina

Not knowing, ignorance, is a funny thing.
I use to see my past as either a treasure chest or a time bomb, I was never entirely sure which.
I use to see my past as a catalyst to some grand adventure, but I could only guess at how long it would last.
That's how it goes, everyone only guessing when their adventure ends. Some people know how, but no one knows exactly when.
For me though, there was more, A larger question mark, more X's in my equation. I knew less, and it always had me imagining.
You see I was adopted at birth, I never knew my life givers, my body makers, my me creators. I only knew they existed. That and the scraps of information gathered throughout years of questions like needles picked slowly and painfully while searching through the hay.
She played the flute, just like you.
He looked (to her at least) like Wayne Gretzky.
They were never married.
This was the story but it wasn't my treasure, it wasn't wasn't my bomb.
You see I have no idea what to expect at the end of the story, the place where I would meet them, my DNA combiners.
At the X on this treasure map would there be gold? Would I find a count-down on a bomb amidst my riches? Would there be, among the glittering joy, a hint at when this grand adventure would end?
Most importantly,
Did I want to know?
Curiosity has always burned in me like a forest fire raging far beyond my self control.
I wanted to know.
Would I find in the story of my life's creation more family to love, more people who matter?
Or not?
And if there was a bomb what would it be?
Cancer,
Heart-disease,
Osteoporosis,
Alzheimer's?

Do I want to know?
Do I want to see an expiry date on my young life?

This knowing is a gamble,
These dice cannot be loaded,
These cards cannot be cheated.

That is my choice, to live out an adventure short or long, and discover their story.

Discover my story.

Ignorance is a funny thing.

What if God decided like any other manufacturer 
to put a stamp on each of us and let us know our fate

Like the date the milk turns bad is no mystery
So will be the date a person will be history. 

Will you date a person with short shelf life
or even  make that person your wife?

And will you make most of a bond that you cherish
if you know for sure when its going to perish?

WIll you love one kid more than the other
if you know who is going farther?

And above all how will you live your life, if you already have a hint
   whether your time on earth is a marathon or a short sprint?

Impulsive drones, these machos you have flimflammed,

Wolfing your proportionality like a **** brewed nectar of grapes,

When flimsy limb frills no more interweave, expertise reprogrammed,

Are you the lone from infinite frames murmuring, “once more, he escapes”?

Indignation ******* broadcasted, ferocity wrought into the fiber,

Prior, where narcissistic pathway architecture once lodged aloft,

Calloused acknowledgement of her duffel, abrupt pang, necessity for a prescriber,

My mettle is feeble of the soap opera, hanging one’s topper in my breath, I coughed,

The cauldron perpetually gurgling with spume, mingling itself,

Gyrating with giddiness as if my noggin was a top trinket,

No dust crumbs in any bustle ever jubilated atop my pit-a-patting instrument’s

Masses are anticipating for my enveloping blanket,

I perhaps beam till the cattle wham the timepiece, though seldom do I chuckle,

Shall journey with the ensuing waft, no comma for a buckle.

Can a Love song be used twice?
I love you’s and the reminiscent blues,
do the rhythm and blues remember the
ones you loose ?

This reminded me of you.
I use the lyrical hues
of this fine tune to put into words my feelings for you.

Expiry date.

Can a hummingbird still sing
when your number no longer rings?
I wonder
Nat King Cole’s somber stardust melody still
haunts my reverie.

Can I really vow to another with the words I solemnly devoted to my past lover?

As seasons change
so to does my musical range.
Yet a love song , is still a Love song.

To my future love,
at times my hearts desire cannot create words which quantify that;
of a lyrical tune and a lyre.

A Love song.
Love in the present.
Beyond the fond memories of things the lovers dreamt,
Love remains in all things spent
within life’s timely symphonies.

Storm Rider(sample the doors)
start with "Riders on the Storm" softly repeated x4)

Try catch me-leap from ground to sky,
light up the night as I fly,
Tip to tip mischievous-watch me salmon leap-avert your eyes,
The Celtic Dragon Storm Riding tonight,
feel the static on your skin lets take flight…
Vast vista’s fistula’s in the earths core,
fly with me you wanna feel more?,
cut core to core claws - millivolt amped,
up to attack lay down my stamp,
Earth tremblin’ rumblin' humbling when I catch the spark,
revered by Tesla - hear me Arc…
Another mic blown - booth in chaos,
I stand firm - you're reeling as you're reeled in tossed,
like ragdoll physics my rhymes rip timelines,
Faultlines and default rhymes?
Never,I’m too clever,agility reveals your fragility,
Claws rip and drag you down …to a sea of tranquility…
Hush now ,shush now,
hear the susurrus as I leave you nonplussed
phase you back to your body  trans warp jump
tachycardia spasms chasms torn by talons,
pounces crush tons to ounces as I flex my neck…
hasn't changed since Wu told ya’s”Best protect ya neck”

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...

Feel me breath blowing like a gale - the Gael without fail,
I inhale and exhale flames of hell,
hellbent- time to repent
you’re scurrying in gullies while I seek your Scent,
SNIFFFF-grrrrrrrr that’s the sound of doom,
from the Emerald shore to the Pharaohs tomb,
No room to escape the breath that melts steel
rabbit in my headlights feel my claws life steal,
oxygen and nitrogen erupt to seal your fate,
debate-berate, get estate in order,
one Molten blast of fast rhyme its over.
scorchmark against a granite wall,
burnt to a crisp by the firestorm from hell,
well welcome to hell do you feel the heat?
Sandman slim dragon never fears defeat,
20 years here  spittin’ in the underground,
Now its time to vacate my space hear my sound
A no go area,gates of Mordor,
dragged by the Dragon to your place of ******,
claws like claymores rake your face,
prepared to ignite,take flight-seal your fate...

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah, the firestorm
Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah, the firestorm
Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...

Call me Nukker ******, you're due to be Slaine,
one scaldin' verse melts down your brain,
searing breath - death bursts unprepared heads,
Streets run red with the blood of the dead.
Feel the headwind....blowin' as I exhale.
My fetid breath tastes stale as you inhale
lucid juices sluicin in the Wyrms Den,
just One spark you're gonna BURN then!,
wingspan of an Antonov best back off!,
forked lightning blasts ground - as I take off,
fly head on to the heart of the Hurricane,
calescent death as I stake my claim,
rider on the storm,your attempt? - luke warm,
spells incandesce without stress as they take form,
the Serpent serpentine's through the night sky,
take eyes off mine? - your turn to fry.
don't cry it's fate, conserve your hate,
you perspire before your expiry date,
a Deer in the deadlights I'll open the gate,
to the next realm, next challenger calcerated,
another Champion obliterated,
ardent first to set foot on my Isle
now you're here you feel febrile,
feeble feverish attempts cut short clean sliced,
by the Firestorm Dragon with the eyes of Ice.

(Soft-"Riders on the Storm" rpt x2 Chorusx2 end.)

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by.

with loss comes pain
and unfortunate gain
of freedom you did not desire

with hurt comes grief
and reluctant belief
that love must always expire

we are nothing but corporeal beings
tangible, earthly, and most of all, perishable

we are passengers riding in our own trains
in a seemingly perpetual motion
but we are doomed by our expiry
which could already be looming in the distance

it might already be standing by the door
ready to bury us beneath our tombstones

we get reminded by our impermanence
only when death himself shows at our doors

when we are already beneath our tombstones
emblazoned with our own epitaphs
we fade into dust, and become one with oblivion

but all is not lost, you can still see me looming there
in the blooming flower fields, in the open skies
out in the ocean, the wilderness

i fly with the birds, flow with the breeze
and swim with the fishes beneath the sea

in all your searching, you won't find me
but i am here, now one with the earth

Limp, lifeless and longingly dry.
Like the packet of crumpets I lost to mould last week
The rot finds it place under my tongue.
I toy with ideas that maybe anger
Is the reason waves erode sandbanks
And the turbulent wind is why walls like us crumble...

T   U   R   B   U   L   A   N   C   E

The ambiguity of what happens now rings loud and clear
As another fear added to a never ending list.
Professionals would have a field day and a whole new genre within me.
But that's conformity.

The cavern with which my mind resides is dark
Chaotic and violent to say the least.
Self preservation is a fantasised option only present in the books
Surfing the stale wind inside my mind.

If you wanted normality it's taken you two years to undiscover it.

I'll beg each and every second for you to never leave the park bench
That sits across from me staring at everything behind.
I'd give all my soul, dreams and whatever hopes I think I have
To know that you're going to stay in my mind with me forever.

I'd give my heart just to know that you'll stay mine forever.

Ikaw Ay maganda
These are words from Tagaloga
Which is the language of Philippines
It means "You are beautiful"
I can say this to the one who looks beautiful
But what is beauty
It is color or figure
I don't believe in faded beauty
Only interested in the beautiful heart
Which will not fade and
Which won't have any expiry date
So, Ikaw Ay Maganda
To every good people

please! please! please give me something!
please give me something worth staring at!
i don't want to see this mush, this watermelon pulp
of a smoothie! i don't want to see it! give me something
i can cry over, like the mechanical lullaby from
the soundtrack of Coraline...
give me something worth
lamenting; it's not really poetry
if you're stuck in a rut and
suddenly gesture poetically
like it matters, what are the matters
elsewhere, what is really elsewhere
other than from being stuck in a rut in
a hole, where is the light at the end
of the tunnel? please don't become the tunnel,
let me see the light at the end of it -
i'm sick of peering into tunnels!
but you know what globalisation did,
i can write such ******* on the index
of pixels and feel all the more un-inhibitory;
i can listen to the Coraline soundtrack,
and watch my cat sleep,
and feel no guilt... because the world is
so large, and i rebelled against
globalisation by making it so so small,
it's so small you're not really allowed entry;
if you gained entry you'd feel castrated
or impotent;
like i said to her in her dipping of emotions
slicing her forearm open:
terror is worse than ******
(you can even hear them now, giggling while
being sterilised without an enforcement
to stop using both the contraceptive pill of
varied adverse effects and the anaesthetic
of pleasure that rubber ******* jacket)...
it's spontaneous, there's no apparent
symbolic build-up...
you can hardly expect the Autobahn system
with terrorism...
it just isn't there...
and while she sliced her hand en route the veins
i put the bread in the fridge
because it would provide a longer far away
expiry date...
and wrote that message on the kitchen tablet
in permanent ink...
i only went to a ******* because i was
rejected so many times, if felt natural
that such a profession should exist;
well d'uh, i'm all into speaking till dawn,
but sometimes a little bit of sensuality does miracles!
well, let's say it feels more than wiping your *** clean
after giving birth to a ****...
so there she was with her arm slashed,
and i encircled her wrist with my thumb and pinky
telling her: it's better that you didn't
chop your hand off.
and wearing sunglasses in the night
i learned the bonsai felines don't sleep as much
as you think, the ears are a give-away,
that sonar of theirs always keen to capture sounds,
they just keep their eyes closed,
it's not that they're sleeping,
these doctors of what is the vacuum and the existence
of anti-matter are awake
and try to hallucinate rather than dream,
hence they try hallucinating with their
eyes closed - until the real potent
hallucinations enter their minds while asleep;
dreams, dreams, dreams!
no, she can't be jealous of prostitutes!
she can't be, i paid for the ****** intimacy to feel
irresponsible and impersonal,
she didn't just do the dumbest thing imaginable
and become a pole dancer... no, she couldn't have!
what am i to do now? i've heard that jealousy exist
when you get really personal with a lover
who has a kinder profession than pure ****** exploitation;
but she did say she was abducted for ransom,
and if this isn't a lie, she did the most unselfish act
imaginable to un-servitude herself in a public exhibition
of exploitation... it wasn't a labyrinth any more,
nothing personal... while i got stuck
with music box ceramics of ballerinas twirling to a haunting;
she bought me like a kilogram of peaches
at the marketplace in the afterlife.

I must take note,
of how the people lie,
their dastardly twists and turns,
their shifting and conflicting emotions,
spiraling out of C O N T R O L,
their faces grim, as the enigma is made,
they paradoxed their words and actions, and all I,
and all I am for, it a laughter under my mask.

I must take note,
for if I don't, I won't be able to detect a group's actions,
they could cause the destruction of my dynasty,
I had set up in my mind,
I deliberately made a world of hope for those who need it,
I who is king, I who is God,
I, who is the only citizen,
they must not find out, and corrupt it,
for I will go hysterical.

I must take note,
of the weather,
what makes the spherical mass in space,
and the biodiversity in it continue to go forward,
for the blades of grass that cut me like a knife,
or the indifference of the flowers lovers give to us,
or the emotions, the physical strain,
that is made within the weather,
how my bones ache in the sun,
and how my emotions contrast in the rain.

I must take not,
or I shall parish,
or I shall meet my demise,
whether it be at the hands of the blades of grass,
or the conspiracies made from the liars,
or the people,
for I will meet my expiry,
the storybooks have told me so.

Scientists estimate that you will fall in love seven times before you get married.
That 42% of these marriages will end in divorce.
That lesbians get their sexuality from their fathers inability to
Maintain a platonic relationship with a woman
Pram pushing into bedrooms whilst our mothers clean
With wine stained pinafores and nicotine laced lips.
They remove their motherhood camise
And hang it on the banister one day after school,
Her fatal attraction to the bottle and mine to the silk touch of a woman’s fabric being the perfect childhood cliché for a
chronic homosexual.

My mothers is still there like a scare crow to heterosexuality,
warning off all my seven deadly loves that could have come from man but now come from the caress of a woman’s cheek but still,
I am afraid of wearing my heart on my sleeve
In case I shrink it in the wash so I place it in my rib cage
Captive to the beat of my own heart grieving.

You are my second love and according to science
I am therefore chasing something that cannot be caught,
Something that has an expiry date before I can even co-create this thing called love  

So when I sip seduction from your navel,
When I unwrap you like the present at Christmas I never got,
Untying the ribbon as I undo your jeans,
Just know the only I do I will say is when you ask me if I think you look pretty.
Or if I want a brew when we are lying in bed puffing smoke rings
Around our impending sighs that float over us like rainclouds,
Drips of fate falling from these skies dampening my desire.

So forgive me if the only aisle I will see you up is the biscuit aisle, Pulling the fabric of my non-wedding dress around my slipping tights.
Forgive me if I trade in the sweat on your neck
For the salt side of a tequila
As sometimes I like to use the wool from over my eyes to knit me telescope so I can look at the stars between your thighs,
But what no one ever tells you is that when you wish upon a star,
That star has surely died.
  
Because I want to fall in and out of love 7 times.
Correction: I want to fall in and out of love with you 7 times.
I want to press you, not in a book, but against me.
Imprint the lines of your fingertips on my ******* like maps of Atlantis because I want to go places with you I never knew existed.
I want your nails engraved on my back like constellations of stars
So I can always find my way back to now. To then.
The present. The past. That very moment where Greenwich meantime got it wrong:
Those seconds were longer than any before,
And my life has been full of seconds.
Second child. Second best. Second chances. Second love.
The third the forth, the fifth the sixth but the 7th, the 7th time you tell me is no longer reserved for you.

You tell me the 7th time is for me to fall inexplicably, uncontrollably in love with myself.
So when I walk myself up a different kind of aisle I can do it with you by my side.
And I’ll stand there, lifting the veil from over my eyes and I will tell you, Darling, second love, science is colourblind.
It doesn’t see the colours of the rainbow like I do.

Because yes, I do.

Cash me a coupon,
it's cold,
I need some soup in my thermos,
I won't make it through unless you do this favour for me,
He told me,
The coupon's done, out of date but not by long
So I went home and hungered for sustenance.

Providence pats me and cuts me a slice of tomorrow, sleep is the main meal in everyone's eyes
I wake to a giro from
the ministry, a
man called Tom and he sends me his
kind regards.

Pardon me waitress can I have more servings of pancakes,
hunger takes more than I know and then I settle down, can't afford to go to town and I cut more coupons from magazines.

To whom do I belong?
To the cold morning
and the unrelenting pound of my feet,
to meet the waistband of my favorite pants.

To whom do I belong?
To the cries of the babe left momentarily alone
while I halt time in the motion of rushing water and clarifying peace
in being simply clean.

To whom do I belong?
To the man who comes home from a career
I gave up to care for others,
To the man who pours into me every need, secret, thought and dream without cease?
While I silently and forever support.

To whom do I belong?
To the child so afraid of the world after years of hurt
Best friend, Gilmore girl, dreamer with an uncertain expiry date.

To whom do I belong?
To the food raised,
The clothes mended,
The laundry flapping in the wind,
The music that surges through my thoughts and never ends
And is reluctantly reminded "later, later, later my friend".

To whom do I belong?
To the old man now dying, tended by many
Yet wanting wanting wanting the role of my beloved or child
While his wife and all push me to take what she has abandoned
To give of me the parts of her she won't share
Untangling from a blackberry bush full of webs.

To whom do I belong?

I must take note,
of how the people lie,
their dastardly twists and turns,
their shifting and conflicting emotions,
spiraling out of C O N T R O L,
their faces grim, as the enigma is made,
they paradoxed their words and actions, and all I,
and all I am for, it a laughter under my mask.

I must take note,
for if I don't, I won't be able to detect a group's actions,
they could cause the destruction of my dynasty,
I had set up in my mind,
I deliberately made a world of hope for those who need it,
I who is king, I who is God,
I, who is the only citizen,
they must not find out, and corrupt it,
for I will go hysterical.

I must take note,
of the weather,
what makes the spherical mass in space,
and the biodiversity in it continue to go forward,
for the blades of grass that cut me like a knife,
or the indifference of the flowers lovers give to us,
or the emotions, the physical strain,
that is made within the weather,
how my bones ache in the sun,
and how my emotions contrast in the rain.

I must take note,
or I shall parish,
or I shall meet my demise,
whether it be at the hands of the blades of grass,
or the conspiracies made from the liars,
or the people,
for I will meet my expiry,
the storybooks have told me so.

It's back to the drawing board
Lord,
time to make a new plan.

Stretch out time a bit longer
and make me more of a man.

And colours,
give several more shades
make knives without blades
no
memory fades or lapses in
sparking synapses.

Back to the draft and
when you have laughed at
all your mistakes
do what it takes and
get it right.

Reaching out mine poetic finger's,
None to reach back.

Roaming in this passage of expiry,
quietus; how solitary tis.

Patting panels of mysteriousness,
Feel like letting go;

Though do I knoweth I shalt get through
With God, for with humanity I'm alone.

I wilt seest the peep of gleam, just
Yonder the gloaming.

At the moment dead yet living,
Though betimes I'll reach
In pure love all that's
Right and knowing.

With one to hold me
In seas of affections
Warmth, I'll be the
Light I'm meant to
Be- I shalt with
Other's share
Mine torch.


© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry.

sometimes I capture a living one
in my plastic bags recess
misplaced amid other shells
they offer a distinct oceanic waft
expiry proffers olfactory comfort