LET GONES BE GONES......


I hope you will forget me,
To even put me as one of your ex's,
Just don't recall my details,
Forget all about me,
You were nothing but a lier,
A heart breaker,
Just know that I'm gone,
Don't think of following me,
Your time have pass ,
So pass with your time,
I'm no longer yours,
And I will never be one again,
Just learn to forget about me......

it's sup _ pos _ ed to be
a | memory |
《Left《 behind
yet i'm riding shotgun
with. a. stranger.
only ^to ^see
McGarthy Jewelry Sign
<<gold//green//gold//green>>
glowing 2nd avenue
inevernoticedtheway
* it's * lit * up *
they-have-such-pretty-things
{& you}
&rings;
i wonder what i could choose
~for ~you
[[silly me]]
alliholdnow
is _ your _ name

A heart of a fool.
Where blind love rules?
He runs a foul of the law.
And says he's going to change.

But when given the opportunity to do it.
He reverts back to his same old ways.
And many question's why you stay?

And like that blind fool.
You repeats, what he said to you?
That he's going to change.

The children you have deserves better.
And if you have none.
yaou serves better.

Don't let the sympathy schemes gets the best of your mind.
That voice of reason that speaks to you with wisdom.

That states, see a fool.
Use a fool.
Which he constantly do to you.

Wise up.
Be wise.
Maybe he's just not the guy.

Even if he's your first love.
Sometimes you got to let by gones be by gones.
Like that old saying.
You can do bad all alone.

Let him swim in his misery.
Believe deep within.
There've got to be a better man for me.

Be wise and wise up.
Instead of you being a fool.
Let him continue to be seen as a nut.

Be gone, you bygones
But there’s nothing wrong
With letting them go on
To morph into better songs
A sort of eulogy to their long

Enough of the hard gripped madness
Enough of the glass shattering sadness
Enough are the words on the page

Form forgets itself when aroused elsewhere
There was no magic in our glare
Simple pure planned demi-god like Hate

Worms were the things that made our love fall apart
The fire wheeling magician with pockets of loose change
We were nothing but fragments in our game all the same

Off and away these words ridicule the minds that read them
Shining truth as if they were just seated at the most beautiful booth
To hear the pleasantries of the mass is being hooked like a great bass

Sin eaters like the fire eaters both with broken heaters
Earrings that swing from side to vicisous side
Good and bad too preach on ears that don't know to delete

Another misfortune in time that never stands still
Ill to the will who low and behold takes the little blue pill
There is a faint mournful morning dust on mine window sill

Panic stricken I started thinkin' of the way out of this mess
But to my surprise and of course my first instinctful guess
I turned out to be the one at the party without a dress

Corn mocks itself telling the mirror its too fat
You've killed us all and yet your so small
Granting itself permission to never again enter the mall

Fiend friend better send
All their money off and away
For the mighty bill is here to the blank end

Let by gone's be by gones
Until the bones begin to break
And there ain't a trace of the song

Notes of noting that leave nothing in my ears
I listen to them all
But hear nothing

Has the sight went away with the sighing of the day?
Am I so lost
I can't see the falling summer frost?

Cornered in the market of a fresh bakers reality
The bread has been rising
I'm afraid it won't be able to stop

Off to the ridicule to put myself though medical school
The shimmering metallic utensils
Have never laid so deathly still

Hear my soul
Don't stand in my shadow
Dare to strive forward
Replenish your striving
Become your own wishes and not mine
The great baton is passed to you
I will soon meld into the abyss of by gones upon by gones

My inner kingdom soon dwindles into obscurity
My trumpets of announcements is but only a hushed breeze
Days of rest beckons to me and the great ****** hangs
over my head like a giant pendulum counting time

I still hear, feel, and see my muse crying out to me
not to abandon myself from myself
Space shrinks as time shrinks
The earth pulls me down as gravity will soon claim me
Mother Earth will soon embrace me and welcome
me home, from where we all came, from the beginning of time

The figure moved; "let by gones be by gones
n'all" called the other reaching for gun.
Shadow flashed, eyes witnessed unsong;
"bound soul flitting shade bound, n'all!" gun sung.
As the bank clerk accosted sought shelter,
the barrelled void looked on with glee. Happy?
What a time to shine we've a belter,
and I'll betch ya bare presents from me.
Animate beings the devils in deets
Replete we so are and we suffer.
In-animacy, the terms quite discreet,
and our ignorance hampers our buffer.
For guns everywhere, unloading despair,
pushing and crushing; the barrels grim stare.

We talk in code
with words
that like chameleons
hide
where they appear

and send signals
with our fars
and nears
and gones
and heres

that in their way
are sometimes mixed
without knowing
when or why

And then we act
hesitant at times
and at times decisive
yet uncertain

in choreographed
but unrehearsed
steps
that turn
into each other
and phrase the
rhythm
of
our dance

WHAT THE MIRROR THINKS

The mirror sees them
arguing, but:

says...nothing.

It, observes them as so
much human furniture

that, most of the time
are nowhere

to be seen.

"Here 'n' gones' " the mirror
thinks of them.

The mirror reflects
a tiny breeze

unseen in itself that
dances with the white

net curtains
stained with sunlight.

The shadows creep
into corners

waiting for
evening.

The mirror shows
an aspidistra

that always dominates
the tiny room.

it even refers to
the tattered Penguin

Orwell

fallen to the floor
still...unread.

The carpet the mirror sees
is genuine

Persian, but:
it has seen better days

faded with sunlight.

There is a small hand mirror
on an antique wash basin

that still holds
the woman's scowl

for a few moments, but:
now. . .doesn't.

Mirror looks at
mirror.

But, again:
says....nothing.

There is - nothing
: to say.

The humans have gone
taken themselves out of

the picture
so to speak.

But, their anger
still hovers in the air.

The curtains
are still

...dancing.

"Hmmmmmm..?"
thinks the mirror

"...Hmmmmmm!"

Bygones be gone
bye wrong
wires crossed
lost in the why
this world is full
of unseeing eyes
unfeeling hearts
unthinking minds
not ours
not yours
not mine
we find the depth
in between the lines

© J.C. 24/09/2019.

Bygones be gone
bye wrong
wires crossed
lost in the why
this world is full
of unseeing eyes
unfeeling hearts
unthinking minds
not ours
not yours
not mine
we find the depth
in between the lines

© J.C. 24/09/2019.

slur your words,
as bottles pile onto bottles,
and the dreams you love,
have come to haunt me,
glowing orb,
orbiting around you,
keeping you away from the storm,
that pours from your mother's eyes,
about how her two lovers have died,
Her wailing drowned out,
over the buzzing beating plastic world,
created by by gones gone by,
of the greatest generation,
who died to produce,
the cubical living room,
we use to be gods,
on our virtual battle ground,
where we now stand,
face to face,
I stand with solidarity,
with your mother's loss,
climb into the life raft,
before the storm gets you,
and you drown in your flood gates,
that have rotten with filth,
you freely dump into your mind

snow-windy.
ice in raindrops.
hefty ventures.
brookner, anita:
latecomers '89.
thomasses,
just too many.
mind-plays.
churning hopes.
wrestle.
some way out.
'i did love her then!'
mind-quake.
regroup.
by-gones.
grave-yard stuff.
'oh, now: you & i.'
     -by Hakim Kassim.

Days Past
I look at old pictures of high school friends
Wondering if I will ever see them again
Remembering days past
I thought we had such a blast
Until the day I learned how you really felt
That was definitely a hit below the belt
I thought we could tell each other anything
Boy was I wrong
I felt so hurt and wondered why
For a long time I would just cry
Adults we now are
I'm sure in life you have gone far
Remembering days past I smile
I know it's been a while
It makes me sad, I was so naive
I guess I didn't want to believe
But I am older now and have moved on
I guess I should let by-gones be by-gones

Let me muse you with my wisdom of which i have not
let me confuse you with my dismal portray of thought
when sour met the hour of which they have bought
and kissed the sweet darlings for he bear the honor not

i think sadness pervades on those who think the opposite fought
and persevere those who kissed the feet and forgot
scarcely are those who puff away the night
and forget that they try caused them so much fraught

for i sit alone and construct illusions of tire and might
i wish you understood my meaning and so do i
by gones be by gones my efforts now contrite
but sweet things bid sweet things and i wish you a good night.

Hope the sound of crickets
resting near your head
won’t wake up the bed
or want it?

just to tell you
now looking for a name
to call the day
that went the distance of three

I felt I did
I felt I slept
and shined through
and walked right at

I lost my breath
subtle hurts underneath
around my head
and heartily heartened

found a friend in friends
so talking their strange lingos
made me see the closeness
in the foreign truth

that carries
the
travelers
through

on-times so unusual
coincidental timing
and all the gones
how me, my zones

being alone
so moving, so home
near others
sleepwalking lovers

nervous panics
wordy freaks
one sided
broken line

still don't know today
the name
of ******* scattered
day

thus this scattered fragments,
my scatterline,
I just want to whisper
to your resting mind

while still smelling you
on structures of my skin,
sound tenderly
the creaks of crickets!

there's so much dust in me,
dusk, and the rust,
lust and the dusk in me,
to set me alight, on fire-

so much smoke and
cold and loneliness,
the seething emptiness,
and the hollow mornings;
for the sun to rise-

the hurt in me,
always hurting me-

the words in me,
never in the right sequence
or picture;

the elegance to be,
to be, or not-
a million years of
evolution and scriptures;

mixture of chaos,
and visitors;
with their pain,
with their home,

with their bombs,
and with their gones

bones and skeletons,
sharks and teeth;

seeds and forests,
just ready to burn;
to set me alight, on fire.

His eyes were red and cold as he gazed upon the throne ,
With hate that ruled his heart he could break every wall of stone
Lost in his own madness , consumed by the betray of the one gones
His breath of fire shall burn and ashen every home they've known

For every man is once only a child , as pure as the morning dew
An unwritten tale of the morrow , every sight is new
One can't teach thyself to hate , it's a poison that world brews
For we forget that good is far greater but good men so few


His claws dig deeper with more despair he sees
Through the flesh onto their heart and dreams
A calm song to his soul , as his prey withers and screams
To be one with the devil now and forever , his creed


He begged for the world to see him for what he was ,  
But they'll only know him as who he is now
He walked upon a road back and forth so lost
And the mute world never made no sound

He feeds on the ruins of the forgotten land ,
Upon all the lost souls that wanders into his side
Ever so caring in his warm tender hands
The gates to his kingdom are open ever so wide


His small hands craved for warmth and embrace
But the cruel sky carved a maze of scars on his face
Little eyes searching for the lone bird in the sky
Spots one, as the bird is shot and dies before his eyes


The world is nothing but a speck of dirt in his mind
Ought to be crushed before he runs out of time
Wicked kind that decay and degrade with every breath they take ,
His love is for the dead for living he has nothing but hate


He saw them put fire to the forest of his thoughts
And the flames engulfed every nook and corner
He was burnt , Ashen to the being he was not
Pushed into the void with arrival of every  new mourner


Sharpness of his blade shining through the night
Into the approaching herd of black and white
A question before the end of why they deserve his rage ,
Stains of ignorance on every Blood soaked page


The world cut him in pieces and every part was drained of love ,
Left to die and rot , he's the phoenix who was raised in their dirt
They proclaim him as the devil , his very existence they curse
Lore of the fools , the unholiness of his birth

mind of a child was fed with hate and pain ,
Left in the dark shade , he was told to find his own name
The night found him instead , held his hand as the fear drained
Now they say he's the devil , who's the one to be blamed ?

WHAT THE MIRROR THINKS

The mirror sees them
arguing, but:

says...nothing.

It, observes them as so
much human furniture

that, most of the time
are nowhere

to be seen.

"Here 'n' gones' " the mirror
thinks of them.

The mirror reflects
a tiny breeze

unseen in itself that
dances with the white

net curtains
stained with sunlight.

The shadows creep
into corners

waiting for
evening.

The mirror shows
an aspidistra

that always dominates
the tiny room.

it even refers to
the tattered Penguin

Orwell

fallen to the floor
still...unread.

The carpet the mirror sees
is genuine

Persian, but:
it has seen better days

faded with sunlight.

There is a small hand mirror
on an antique wash basin

that still holds
the woman's scowl

for a few moments, but:
now. . .doesn't.

Mirror looks at
mirror.

But, again:
says....nothing.

There is - nothing
: to say.

The humans have gone
taken themselves out of

the picture
so to speak.

But, their anger
still hovers in the air.

The curtains
are still

...dancing.

"Hmmmmmm..?"
thinks the mirror

"...Hmmmmmm!"

My love u gone and i missing everyday no call no letter just the memorys i stored in side of my heart time gones ny and I cant believe you gone my tears i cry is only a few more of them can roll dwn my face i love u so much the moment i say u can be replace the time we spent cant be explain. I wish u was here to stop my heart from aching. U must fill my present. For it heavy. I wish i would relive the moment when. Act the way i did. call me.. Please call for u need me and i need u my heart is heavy thinking bout you it like i can reach your soul come back to me.

The cast is ever changing, be it at Old Eli its ownself
Or various other institutions, most sans ivy,
Their distinguished here-and-gones
A touch short of presidents and laureates,
And certainly the songbook has changed
(Out with the Crosby and Waring,
In with the Cobain and the Stryper)
But certain verities, gnawing and implacable,
Remain unchanged, the inevitable realization
That, for all one's promise, all of our ilk
Have preceded us in our arrival, flush with pride and promise,
And made the odd ripple or two, perhaps,
Before shambling onward to other things
(Very rarely bigger and better, sadly enough)
And all those songs we sang and steins we hoisted
Have now been consigned to less fashionable quarters
In the anterooms of memory,
The melodies and laughter filtered, transformed, muted
The sound not unlike the slightly discomfiting bleatings
Of some distant barnyard animal.

Once upon a time,
A petite girl who smelled of pine.
Not so long ago,
was jumpy at her own shadow.
Spent the whole day playing in the meadow.
Had a many with whom she felt like second self,
who would keep all her mischief to themself.

As the time passed,
all her mischieves were a past.
As Went through the growing process,
her friends grew less.

She grew to be a loner,
every corner called her as their owner.
Considered her closed ones as gones,
leaving her with the purposeless dawns.

With her thoughts weighing upon,
she begged for an amusement to clap on.
Negatives filled her head.
She painted her childhood on the empty canvas,
with her blood so red.

A walk path down this lonely heart
Blinded by love from the start
They come and go like annual seasons
Than leave me broken for now reason

The next one will come in a flip of a page
I'd run into love like a bird out a cage
It will blossom until they've ate the seed
Than I'll realize it was all for greed

Again I'd be left alone in this lonely path
Grievously reincarnating my broken heart
I fall and fall than rise again
Cause falling in love is never in vain

I heal my heart and resume walking
Releasing by gones for some soul searching
For now the path is still lonely but I still have fate
That by the end of this journey I shall find my soul mate

WHAT THE MIRROR THINKS

The mirror sees them
arguing, but:

says...nothing.

It, observes them as so
much human furniture

that, most of the time
are nowhere

to be seen.

"Here 'n' gones' " the mirror
thinks of them.

The mirror reflects
a tiny breeze

unseen in itself that
dances with the white

net curtains
stained with sunlight.

The shadows creep
into corners

waiting for
evening.

The mirror shows
an aspidistra

that always dominates
the tiny room.

it even refers to
the tattered Penguin

Orwell

fallen to the floor
still...unread.

The carpet the mirror sees
is genuine

Persian, but:
it has seen better days

faded with sunlight.

There is a small hand mirror
on an antique wash basin

that still holds
the woman's scowl

for a few moments, but:
now. . .doesn't.

Mirror looks at
mirror.

But, again:
says....nothing.

There is - nothing
: to say.

The humans have gone
taken themselves out of

the picture
so to speak.

But, their anger
still hovers in the air.

The curtains
are still

...dancing.

"Hmmmmmm..?"
thinks the mirror

"...Hmmmmmm!"

the market was covered with silver,
old vintage lighters and hellish hipsters,
you asked me what my problem was,
when we stood there in the mirror,
staring at reflections of hands intertwined,
your feet already cold and staggered.
i said, the issue is i don’t have any
when we’re standing here together.
oh i thought - just give me one good reason.
i want the idea of you more than i want,
steadfast peace and solitude, stable,
sometimes forgetting what alone feels like,
knowing that i’m still able.
i should probably leave us here -
but, knowing that i’m too stubborn,
to let bygones be byes and gones,
still lingering into a prolonged exit -
so i stay with you another month.
i’m never gonna love anything good for me,
centrifuging parts of my identity,
pretending i’m not attached to concepts
and hefty bets on changes -
and it takes one to know one,
so i see right through you,
now i don’t even know your address.

No patience
Know avarice
None relationship
Knowledge and spice

No existence, yourself
Know an ordeal like a rub
None with an insight for health
Knowledge and three men in a tub

Now, who is?
Known gifts of simplicity sake
Nothing but marvels, for a legend to pout, this
Knowing what we do, is a date with an angel, fate?

Fake lips at an ordinary meal, set sideways
Liberty's arduous shoulder, to wince at a cloud
Future yet's and tomorrow's lets, living for what stays
Loft to an argued curiosity, the truth is the only wish allowed

Until we think so...
Proper acts and super facts
We are the keepers of might, that knew right
With a pinch of Sulphur and an ink to understand pacts

So, do you think so...
Tears from behind the seeming home of cope, with a praise
And the love bite, of a calling need to let the breeze of sorts, blow
A pace of unity in a chaste shadow, that lets by gones begin to see an age with eyes to raise

Water under the bridge and me
How knowledge turn banal missing verbs and dots from wisdom called absurd like time because of watches late when neither knows the right answer to be, i dont know. instead of eating poison just because starving, to throw a coin out of reach, like promise without words to keep like words without truth pointless like the journey without destination, youth without home, without roots not tree but a platation nor a name to keep to keep to care for, but a spring and summer, like the finger that pointed handed saying blessed and holy for hundred folds is told god to repay what isnt and should must. The careless ones that care too much to act or advice. Like the ones knowing the most speaking the least. First one can teach to cry one must learn, like to worry for a concern, bad for good. Like an excuse instead of an answear   of all the questions due, and then i hear: anythings better than hemlock, sounds to me like crosses seem some left behind in gones unwilling or unable or foolish, but not foolish to as love but more to hate as intentionless so godful one, as godles the other. Not as hope that doesnt believe but faith that doesnt hope, like the scars and the wounds like lions and pride like storm rains time that comes in soon is the time that went after time from time to went to come to you and me and you and me to come to care for, careless and carefull like about the rainbow we used to, once talked in thunders and birds screams and the field roads of passway  rocks fallin in mountains under the beatin of hooves of fate free and reason and language and time of salvation a dream we dream about and inviolet heaven a bedlike welcome awaitin all them men of all them boys whose love loves better than mens more than a son a father and father son to home how we greet is what gives that name to that house of great our fathers and our fathers god we too dare to bother to seek  our pay with a dream to awake from once our stomach fed not starving for morrows to die in but days to live close and as humble as honest the heart of the heart we call soul gave a think and roads enough to name one a wanderer indeed wandered and wishesh wished at star fall and prayers whispered to the safe of his palms for fools call foolish every time and for gods call theirs unlike men once therefore always like the said spoken a beggar begs the landlord a meal we beg your charity to grant us you already granted like the landlord the spring and responsibility to brother and duty in disguise every now and then with a new story to end and to sing about like a dove with broken wing, sheep without shepard and voice without sound and silence like god to stay unknown for all  to have to think of, like air like love we breath every breath a scent of instinct an inspiration to know better like heart beats beatless and unknowingly like all we forget but remember. Like all we pass be dying, and all we do and say to mind to dont matter yet to matter like to think to think twice, how many wrongs it takes for a right, as wars to battle to peace and roads to step to meet, tears to cry to see a brother and thorns to a king and kingdom and its dom to heaven get near of far already had come, did never leave nor left like the sun the day and yes a question to not  answer like today tommorow is and yesterday never was as long is cohen writin hallelujah like davinci paints mona lisa, still the beggar asking for a slice is the least, always.

Sometimes i think of water sometimes of the bridge. His wisdom is wise but not profound but ultimate, its emotion like music does to soul to embrace but not hold to kiss for but the cheek to know like love to never give yet never take, speak when spoken, to laugh and without a reason to have a reason many times for rivers to move alike free to run out or walk away just two of the poorest choices of transport, as to get insulted or insult a choice to decide for controll being out of yet free to have a share in meal but not in the song, just as the worda have meaning so do they have reason, which he built his life its laws and gods and decided to be in controll and be free like to do and have done to perfect to complete, he understood we go in morning where we say before night, people are never as sick as they say nor is it ever as bad as it seems or good as one thinks when thinks right never as wrong as never wrong when thinks. Knows only thinks. Doesnt think knows. Before mind a word to speak to cross silence like time to call out to question its patience  to deeds to get done never heared say more than at times havin nothin to say what to pay a privilige to hope or death, door or key, nerves or lack of focus to blame hearts dont listen locked, and before the last dies, so does the week after the last day, so the hope we hoped in was everywhere around, while we called it death where we never been what we could have been drunk and travel with song and the boys a wicked a smile to cherish and band to one word instead like devajah, and with devajah life saved, eternity granted and by stars be shining and falling and devajah to blind to see, by making them look, lame to walk by forgiving the ways of sins and sinners for sake of love asked to part from evil.  

Sometimes i think to drown, sometimes to learn to swim, sometimes to set sail i think to have somewhere to sitq The idea of control is to not have it just as the hunger the strive of soul that searches with knowledge of only known to dont know and free will is only it takes to find it, therefore to find the path that turns to understanding and wells by green lakes with swan and benches and shores to turn inward full of kindness and waterwalls all as welcoming as the surface that echoes every leaf every drop and seed of poppy in one whirl of will at hand of might and on tip of my tongue the reason of able to sense the pain the cause of mistake a lesson in every mirror i see after suddenly like to recall a trivial of some of past and smile, how simple once we understand. Meaning i guess: sad is not sad, nor is happy, as long not perfectly happy with being sad. Nothing is boring except us, if so   so it is with shame just as blame you can a bag to command a man to carry, but guilt is only selfmade why air in that bag bigger than me, of world the half, of hell the cover and heaven everything else, im wearing. Control is not about doing what you want but to want to do what you are. Freedom means act accordingly and slavery to force and be forced. There is a great song: you gotta serve somebody. Like hour to minute, minutes to hour, steps to footprint on the road where you want to be or want to go. Freedom is not in control but control in freedom. Not fencing our loves but facing our fears. Water under the bridge and me thoughts of all the bridges and all the rivers and me's waitin there patiently the great waterendin...
                                  and i laugh.

Water under the bridge and me thinking there be something wrong with me beside the great waterendin.
                      ...and i laugh again.

once upon a time i knew
different friends as i passed through
and in turn they did too
in this wonder what became of you

never did we stay in touch
no reason why, just because
staying in touch wasn't so easily done
with the short goodbyes to the long gones

the older that i seem to get
the more my past that i regret
the friends i had that i left
i wonder now where they are at

and do they ever think of me
a soft spot in their memory
were they sad to see me leave
or did life go on with no skipped beats

all the people i once knew
passing time while passing through
i wonder if their thoughts runs loose
back to the me that they once knew