I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.

I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?

She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.

It was Josh, right?

Yeah.

Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.

And she did.

Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.

Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.

Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.

You were in it.

Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.

You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.

I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.

My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.

I like coffee.

You wouldn't like me.

Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.

No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.

Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.

Yeah, I'll take it.

I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.

Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.

It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.

Time for an adventure,
3 a.m. and raining
Sitting in my FUBU hoodie
My brain was really straining
To keep awake until the bus
Pulled into Detroit Station
So I could start my trip across
This once great and mighty nation
I wasn't there alone this night
Others dozed and slept
Some just sat there silently
While some just sat and wept
I looked at those around me
Who had assembled for this ride
I hoped we would get along
When in walked a young bride
She was dressed in white from head to feet
Her veil was ripped and torn
Behind the ruined makeup
You could see her face was worn
No groom came in, she was alone
She changed, sat, made no fuss
It was almost one more hour
Before we finally saw our bus
A Greyhound, drab and dreary
Pulled up at our loading door
They announced "210 to Vegas"
And they didn't say no more
Most people fly when heading there
They want to get there and get home
Our band of silent travellers
Wanted to just get out and roam
They loaded up our cases
I just had a backpack, that
I was gonna take on board and
Just load it where I sat
They said fifteen more minutes
They would have to fill with fuel
At this point I made contact
With a man....to have a duel
He was sitting right across from me
He had a ball out, on his knees
He was tossing it into the air
So...I brought out my keys
He tossed it up and caught it
So, with my keys I did the same
He smiled and flipped it to his left
and with my keys I played his game
He moved it round from hand to hand
Made it hover in mid air
He did it all so gracefully
I did the same with out a care
His ball, my keys...time slipping by
Just then he gave a smile
He bounced the ball upon the floor
He had beat my by a mile
I nodded, slipped my keys away
I'd been outdone through and through
By a man with a red rubber ball
What else was there to do?
We lodaded up and took our seats
The crowd was pretty thin
With the lights low on inside the bus
It was looking rather dim
The married folks and partners
paired up in seats as pairs
The singles spread out randomly
As they collected up our fares
Vegas, was our hallowed ground
The final destination for us all
Then on the station P.A
they made the final loading call
Thirty three hours was the time
We'd take to drive
Give or take some time for food stops
We'd all get there safe, alive
We hit the road directly
My adventure had begun
It was still dark in the distance
We were driving towards the sun
Across the aisle all alone
An old lady sat and wrote
She was trying to get comfortable
She was wrapped up in her coat
The seat behind me, vacant
I was grateful for this fact
It afforded me the space so I
Could put my seat right back
With the blind pulled down,
I tried to sleep, at last I drifted off
There was the sound of the bus motor
And of the occasional, dry, hoarse cough
I heard music in my head at first
So I thought it was a dream
It turned out to be a radio
Owned by our runaway, bridal queen
she sat two rows down and to my left
She had changed into some jeans, and shirt
She had one ear plug in, one out
You could see how she did hurt
I got up, stretched, went to the back
I'd freshen up and have a ***
As I walked I felt so ill at ease
As all eyes followed me
The back two seats were occupied
by  two nuns, one old, one not
The smiled as I came near them
I smiled back, and then I thought
This cast of wayward characters
Was not at all like those
That were portrayed in "Homeward Bound"
The song most folkies all shoud know
On my way back I noticed a man
Reading, or at least that's how it looked
I saw no print upon his page
No letters in his book
I stood and watched, his fingers flew
Like they were moving on a rail
Then I realized that he was blind
And his book was all in braile
I stood there in amazement
At this sight that I'd just seen
Then I chuckled at the cover
From an old ******* Magazine
We pulled into a diner
We'd been out for nine hours now
We had an hour to ourselves
Time to change and get some chow
Most folks sat as they had come
In pairs or all alone
Some went out for a ciggy
One old man went to the phone
We all made sure to void ourselves
Before we got  on board
For the smell from eighteen greasy meals
would test the nuns faith in our lord
The background noise was louder
Than it had been at the start
We were eighteen lonely travellers
Travelling together, but apart
A father and his daughter
Played "eye spy" and sang some songs
They played "license plate bingo"
Most lyrics they got wrong
The old lady across the aisle
was watching, intently like a hawk
She was scratching things inside her book
You'd expect her just to squak
The man who had the ball sat
Alone, said not a word
I walked by and said "good morning"
But I don't think he heard
He sat there, still not moving
staring out the window at the world
He was taking in the movie
Of our trip as it unfurled
The trip was uneventful
It went on mostly the same
People reading, people watching
Father, daughter and their games
The driver pointed out some stuff
As we passed by on the way
"To the left you'll find the largest
ball of string made to this day"
He pointed out old houses,
Fields of battle, lost and won
Just a couple took real notice
Most wished the trip was done
A repeat after five more hours
A new driver came on board
She was blond, blue eyed and beautiful
Inside, my heart just soared
In my imagination
She would pick me from the crowd
When we made it to Las Vegas
I would go with her, I'd be proud
But, she sat there pointing out the sights
Like her predecessor had
My fantasy went up in smoke
It was really kind of sad
We ventured on till Vegas
getting off to eat and then
We would all repeat our actions
And get back and sleep again
It was quiet for the most part
Most folks waiting for the end
When we came out of the mountains
We could see the strip around the bend
"Ten minutes till Las Vegas"
our blond driver told us all
Make sure you've your belongings
I looked at the man who had the ball
He smiled tossed it in the air
I tossed my keys just one more time
In a way, we had a friendship
In a way , it was a crime
We had one thing in common
It would stick with me for good
It would always make me smile
And a smile's always good
We pulled up into the station
We were all tired from the ride
Most grabbed their extra luggage
I grabbed mine and went inside
There, I went up to the window
Bought another ticket, heading east
Turned and bumped into a fellow
He was a slight, buy friendly priest
"I'm heading to Detroit, my son"
"Where is it you're off to"
"I'm just off on an adventure"
"I think I'll go back there with you"
He smiled, opened his bible
We had three hours still to wait
Before our bus was ready to go back
Across the United States
You might ask yourself, why do this?
Why go back and not take time
To see the city that I'd come to
It just seems so sublime
to me the whole adventure
Isn't in the place I go
The adventure is the people
Each trips a brand new show
The cities that I visit
Really never, ever change
But the people....oh the people
Man, some are really strange
If you now would please excuse me
I must go and change my clothes
For I'm off on adventure
How it turns out...no one knows.

THOU SHALT NOT BE MISERABLE - MAN-UP,
YOU HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH DEPRESSION,
HERE BEGINS THE LESSON - WHAT IS YOUR REASON?
WRITE DOWN YOUR GOOD THINGS - WHAT A SMILE BRINGS.

RESPECT YOURSELF, YOUR PARENTS AND FAMILY FOR ME,
DO NOT MAKE ACCUSATIONS, RATHER DECISIONS,
DO NOT DESIRE THAT WHICH YOU CAN NOT HAVE,
DO NOT COMMIT ****** AND THEFT - USE WHAT'S LEFT.

DO NOT DESIRE ANOTHER PERSONS DONKEYS, SLAVES,
CATTLE OR THEIR PARTNER - THREE OUT OF FOUR SHOUD BE OK,
I FORGOT THE HOUSE - YOU HAVE ONE OF YOUR OWN,
WHEN IT COMES TO ADULTERY - I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

TODAY IS SPRING, I WANT TO HEAR WHAT MAKES YOU SING,
MAKE ME LAUGH, IF YOU SUCCEED - THE WINE I SHALL BRING.

"It is better we should both perish than that my enemy should live"

the scorpion; lethal
the frog; delicate

1st times a accident
2nd times a mistake
3rd time shoud've never happened.

but you were right it was inevitable for it to happen again.
With your kindness so dear and delicate,
your genuineness so rare
and your heart so pure
and my nature so continuous,
it wasn't a mistake or an accident,
you cannot break the cycle of nature,
just like the changing  seasons.

it's like harming someone you care about,
and harming one at one's disadvantage,
with recklessness .

they aren't worth loving, or being affectionate towards,

a point when u feel abandoned by the people around u
a point when u loose it but u can't show it
a point when u wanna run away but u can't
what is your fault when the circumstances change
u didn't provoke someone to make them happen
the one who faces it is "U"
who decides that what is right n what is wrong
when people call u manipulative
don't jst feel bad
but kick that person out of our life
they don't deserve u
y shoud u pay for what others do
u make people trust u
u make people rely on u
u sacrifice ur comfort zone for them
but in the whole instance what did the other guy do?
the answer must be nothing
people face it
people ignore it
n when u try to clarify it out
they call u manipulative
a fresh start is nothing but a fake one
m going out not with a fresh start
but with a new one
going to people who genuinely care about me
who wanna be with me
unlike others who call u stubborn n manipulative jsst to protect their standard
m not changing
instead i m jsst converting into a new one

I fell into a trap- deep and damp and dark.
And my chest was tight and heaving.
A place where the light would refuse to come, a place of solitude.
A place without you.
You are my sunshine, but you won't shine for me.
I am so in love with you.

What should i do when all i have is myself to lose.
Run this way,when my mind is telling me to run another
&&never; listen to another,&lov;; God like no other,&show; my love
towards everyone.What should i do,when my heart is telling me,something
but my ears refuse to listen..&&my; body is taking over everything,
My love is under all my pain..&⁢'s driving me insane,hope i will l
earn to love the same.

What is wrong with me?
Am i Too skinny? too fat?
Am i too tall? too short?
why cant i be happy with me?

what is wrong with me?
Am i too dumb? annoyingly smart?
Do i talk to fast? or prehaps to slow ?
am i too loud? or too quiet?
Why cant i be happy with me?

what i wrong with me?
am i too sensitive? am i heartless?
am i self-ish? or a little to selfless?
am I not silly enough?
should i be so jealous?
Do i care what people think?
Is this really where i wanna Live?
Am i stuck with this job or do i love it?
Should i have gone to school?
Is this the person i shoud be fighting for?
Do i need to go to the doctors?
Why cant i be happy with me?

whats wrong with me?



I just cant be happy because of ...me

May be I missed something…
Sitting lonely by the fireplace, in the rocking chair, just like the one he always wanted to have since childhood, and to sit just like that with such a serious face… thinking really widely and broadly about own… like Sherlock or Epicur… and with a glass of Merlot..
In the whole house just crackling of the fire and hissing of the conditioner… May be I missed something.. Said he, but now out loud to himself…
Something started vibrating, flashing with an idle melody through the dark silence of the house…
- Да.. answered he, in hope that it is some of the “close” people that remembered him in the New Years Eve..
- Hola! Puedo hablar a Sr. Miguel. Esta en el casa ahora?
- -Discúlpeme, está equivocado el número, señiorita…
- -Lo siento…

And she hang up the phone… wrong number… She needed somebody called Miguel…

hmm.. I should’ve said that I was Miguel. Then, shoud've reserved the table in a restaurant and asked her out… And when she woudn’t meet Miguel there, just before she starts leaving, accost her and tell:

-Hola, Senioritta. Me llamo Roberto. Esta muy bonita y estoy solo esta noche. Quiere beber algo comigo?
You don’t have to wonder that people treat a woman with such beauty like that. You’re not first, you’re not the last…
And she responded:
-Gracias y Mucho gusto Roberto. Me encantaria…
And then with projectors and street lights through bars and clubs until the dawn… and then it’s not lonely and very hot in your bed… and in the morning, a little bit ill and tired you ask her:
-Como te llamas?
-Maria…
That would be the last word you would hear from her.. and she gets dressed and gone, gone…
You’re lonely again.. inside just the fantasies and at front of you their reflections on the burning down fire…

"i Washed It"

                "Not Good enough"

"But i Did i Did"

                    "Wash it again"
'i didn't know
How could i have known"
                     "because I told you not to!!"
"But she said i shoud
that i just let her wet it
i didn't know it was *****"
............................................
Full of things that i shouldn't know
plesures of lust, greed, sin
Dirt
a loss of innocence
I'll do anything to take it back
It wont come off
It wont come off
this dirt wont come off
(cries) tears
What em i to do
....................."Here child let me wash that away for you"....

Perish the thought!
Do not leave me in the void
bitter as a wormwood,
lonely as precipitated leaf,
neutral as silent stone,
cold as a sea of winter,
wide as a valley of fiery hell
grief-stricken as dead, young life.

Without you oranges lost sweet taste.
Without you my apartment forfeited soul.
Without you colours are false.
Without you my heart is pinched.
Without you eternal dreams left me.
Without you world has stopped for thousand years.
Without you life is cruel and predictable ride.
Without you I forgot what comfort means.
Without you I despise all world.

Perish the thought!
We shoud still continue to be together.
Remain with me in moments of infinity
before the last spark of hope lights up your repents.
Do not annihilate our love in vexation.
It is unutterable pain.
I don't wish to inflict us upon degradation and misery.
I wish God lives between two of us.

It is not too late
to listen patiently whisper of forgiveness,
to reveal frustrated feelings,
to extinguish embers of confusion,
to find in yourself shadow of lover from the past,
to sink in the depths of my arms,
to forget the human weaknesses,
to look white at each other,
to set the clocks of our bodies at the same time,
to unearth hidden in the rubble of routine chest of elations.

Perish the thought!
You cannot leave without word.
I know you are hot-tempered.
Do not leave me in these moments alone,
moments darker than night.
I will die in slaveries without you.
I put my soul in grave without you.
You are my first and last breath.
I kiss the ground you treaded softly with your feet.
I cuddle the space where you are.
I move my eyes in the hope they will see your form.

Perish the thought
before it is after dusk of our dreams.
I feel like I am completely stranger for you.
I breath half-savage hell in the air.
I am hardy of perfection of our souls.
We are made of the same colours of existence.
I will have to break your heart if you break mine.
But I don't feel strong enough to do this.
I still have power to love you.
Do I want to live without you?

Perish the thought!
Fling your arms around me!
Don't betray your heart!

I kiss your raw lips
and say goodbye.
The sun has yet to rise.

Let us walk in peace
with the morning star.
We should make love & die.

We shoud live life every day,
not just for some day.

Love. Love. Love.
Sweet darling, I’m here,
by the fog, by the light.

With you here,
Time lies within Time
and ages slip away into seconds,
and seconds turn into Love,
which will feed on my soul for all time.

There were whispers among those that heard
echoes through others voices.
Spilling vacant lots of urban mythes of what was
perpetrated in different places but never was an
ounce of truth weighted upon breath.

I had a spoken version of what I was envisioned as.
One had been a breath away from my features, I had
let him linger in a purgatory of thoughtlessness to
who or what was being purposed on this moment then
he became a architect of my latest art form or death.

[The Hang Man]
Before I let him speak his truths I had ended his momentary
glee at the thought of my expulsion. We cant have that can
we, I'm an urban myth of what was perpetrated on the
fictitious thoughts of others belief that they were but an
ending of what had lead to this inevitable closure.

Now silent gazes I look at, each and all see that blink in
dejection of what is inevitable. I give them a moment of
saturated hope hands stretched out as if to help,
but there terminal in this existence and I play that final
grim moment of what is another note in my book of what befells.

This is no different, he was a moment of relaxation on my
imaginative moment, he was a tapestry of creation, a choke
hold of no trauma was the recipe of his unconsciousness.
I prodded his stomach in playful jest, wakey, waskey
dead man walking, or barely standing shoud I say.

I spoke words only heard once different upon those l looked upon

"Can your breath escape the suffocation of this knot
that lingers around my life,

[Needle work]
Like a moment frozen, erasing the time between the realities
of contemplated normalcy and the fractured whispers of
imagery that stains my mind. I see the world in a perspective
of not colours but emotions and I step off the precipice of
reality and I see clearly.

"I am a kite flying on the ceiling of my coffin,

But everything that rises must fall, collapsing beneath the
boot of authenticity, and vibrate motifs shatter to behold
existence, I tremble under the offence of the rope that binds
me as death smiles in satisfaction of my eagerness to rise above.

Telling me that I am but a needle in the tread of wasted time,
I am a balloon punctured with feathers and I am exhausting
his time as I linger between the steps of here and nothingness.
Awaking in a hospital bed I vow to never be here again.

Its tied around my arm, and I'm vacant, sober of regret but I
must rise like the kite I am, flying above morality I will never
fall. Until an aroma of disillusion lingers and my string is finally cut.
I am not embraced in deaths palm, instead I am a patchwork
of regret and for eternity its sewn into my fibre I am no longer a kite.

[Pills Drowning The Silence]
I wonder around the halls of my mind, looking in rooms of
forgotten memories the faces scratched out and vacant.
I speak to them asking why did you do this, and as the
deformed emotion looks at me no visible motion but
laughter reverberates through my mind and I grasp at
my mind and scream in censorship of those in ear shot.

I count them on the side like sheep over a white cloud that
covers them in the bottle 1-2-3-4-
                                                      ­  5-6-7-8-9-10...
                                           ­  40-9-38-37-36
So many sheep that wish to be jump from that bottle to
my waiting taste buds. Sugar coated moments fall like
raindrops down my oesophagus coalescing in the
pit of my remorse. I feel them fizzing away bubbling away
in my memories and I giggle in as my eyes stretch open
and time slows down and I hear the voices in my head clapping.

Oh well, everything is a moment and mine is slowing down
and I can actually sleep peacefully, not be tortured by the
concussion of repeated images of your motions in my head.
I smile, I haven't done that for so long anger was my angel
and she cut deep into others. I hear these singular words.

"I ingest the purity of the world and slumber evermore,

[When The Flames Consumed]
I looked into the word that lingers between light and darkness
I saw only the reasoning that all obscurity was a moment of
purity that became blistered and corroded. Liquid was just air
in fluidic form, Untaintedness but when it became enveloped
upon my being I was drowning between the voids.

I was neither alive or dead, I was submerged in the suffering,
screams that echoed around my form but nothing was exhausted
from me. But others that were sieged on the sight before them,
I told them my sorrow, telling them with the formation of light.
Without a word I was enveloped in the words of chastity.

"I am but ash in the flames of my agony,

I watched the others that never knew I perceived what they
were going through, they were my "suicide kings,
I treasured ever moment of their ending and the suffering
they endured was not be questioned, but they were kings
upon the bones of men. My offerings never suffered they
were kings in the thrones of pain and now they are free....

so please excuse me, i have no history going back as a roman invasion... unfortunately i came from the Atilla throng... i utilise your phonetic encoding like any barbarian might.... more in love with it, than with the women who use it casually in everyday talk; i'm so sorry that i can't use your phonetic encoding as peacefuly as i might to start a family, and keep the fading ritual...  i am prone to the mongol practice akin to: invade and quickly fade... which is also akin to: not invade, build an empire, quicken a false fire... and sadly never fade away; e.g. russia, america.

you have a basis of crucifying a man
who has no (a) history of a roman past
(b) a roman  phonetic / optometric
encoding, with a slight deviation
of (ć) - who am i? the wave from Siberia,
neither Mongol, nor Vandal,
of what tribe, am i? collectively known as Slav,
it is said my women
   were harrowed from their
nests like birds akin to the cuckoo....
  and where my national pride: you ask?
me know either.. if there were any.
    poetry is something
you call: trying to be an artist
while, at the same time,
          not becoming a plumber,
or a painter.
oh dear, painters are worst,
unless they paint a cubic-mono-chromatic
i have na value for them shoud
they be an example
of a categorical imperative....
there bartablondine roamed in thought:
  and bemoaned:
        higher the cabbage-head
rise above the caulifloiwer...
as said name:
            a saxon knife with writ...
on a blade:
        fay-far-goron!
                        poets never hear
of mention under banner, or worth a
weilded sword...
  to no defeat, as there is one assured:
but to engaging with a memory in thought
as needing statue...
           or said the one bound to betray
either thinking from doing,
  or memory and imagination from doing less
and thus doing thrice,
    such be the communal tongue...
  that the females go unto a searching...
and i be the last remaining seagull...
so unto the conglomorate of man...
              all our peace with individuals,
personalities and the likes be gone....
    they are dust, broken bricks, rust
and rabble...
                             i have no flavour for them...
or in different rhymes of war:
the women precede the auxiliaries -
we claim of woman once the need for axe,
but hardly her need to blood-thirst her genitals...
   lions lax...
            and watch the vulture-democracy
unfold:
   scower fools! scower!
                   led by bribe and death-threats alone!
i see but the ghosts of the pentagon *Krzyżtopór:
what bone, what marrow,
there too laid a cement, a ceiling,
                a brick as bone...
                       to keep both hope of skeleton
and if not skeleton: a castle... a cruxifix-axe,
so in italics named... crux alias ascia:
or said compound...
           Krzyżtopór - Krzysztof...
christopher... some might have said:
a loved one, circa 1392 a.d.
       but not here, not now.
anything but Mongol,
    and i am here, and i am but a figment
of ink in a pond of bleach...
        i am Sting:
a Pole in a London...
               you toast, i roast...
       well... it might just be not exactly London,
the smog got me...
                  when a Greek idea
of city-state explores too much ethnic ground,
  London might have grown to be that,
but Berlin, Tokyo nor Mehico City didn't...
      now no farmer in me either...
so.... come the rotten apples and maggoty
potatoes...
                     and if it wasn't for being
a kid having moved to england
and seen my parents reach their status...
i don't know where i would have lived...
just watching these perfectly smug poles
come to university killed off my idea of
struggle...
                        and i never got it back...
the worst decision in my life came
packaged, an idea of a suitcase...
   came with the words: get educated...
   no... learn to make money...
  learn to turn mountains into pebbles,
learn to make pebbles into sand...
learn to make sand into dust...
            i love how the English fake being
immigrants in America...
lazy buggers never care to learn a new tongue...
or how Americans settling in Italy
call themselves as expat...
         because they really love to drink
that espresso 25ml.
                   me? where do i belong?
given my posture and care to speak very little?
on the Faroe Isles.
               Poland feels more obscure these days
esp. when i speak the tongue without an accent...
now i wish i lived in England and had
an accent... maybe with an accent i could
make it...
             there's actually no point in me trying...
     if there ever was:
              it was when it was me being human...
    now that i'm considered to be nothing
more than: the death of death...
                i have all the sentences i write
from scratch, as if prompt, to ensure i am
the last reigning magician.

Coming to that quiet place we made
Hand held close to my chest
Darling, I've got a secret I need let out
Won't you help?
Won't you help me again?

I've gone through it all standing on my own two feet
Been the subject of ridicule and the piece of this world
Totally ignored
Drinking from the wells splashing deep within the earth
Can't help but to get another drink
Shoud've got up and moved on
Can't help but to get another drink

As we walk, we tear our souls from our bodies
As we run, we say to them that they're too heavy to carry
All I ask, All I want
Is just a single word
Okay
Fine
Salvation

Sinking ever so more deeper in the recesses of this chair
Struggling to hold on to reality and things seen not there
How I wish you could see
My head is twirling round and round and round
Long ago it wasn't like this
And far from now it will stop for sure
But, for now, I just can't keep up with you

I've let loose my soul, broke my eyes
Burned my tongue, and hid my ears
Oh baby, all I can do is feel you out
Can't say I want to change that

For those watching this tragedy in the making
Take note of the change from disgust to hero
I don't want you to miss the point I'm trying to make
No, don't want that at all

With feelings going in and out
With sadness complementing the joy
I feel like I'm on a tightrope
I just want to know
Which way to go
Can't be this hard, can it?

I don't think, I don't think it's going to be the same anymore
All my dreams are smashed on the ground
Can't even see them anymore.

In sixty seconds I'll have gone past the horizon
In an hour or two I'll pass through the waves of torment
Kind friends, tell me
What is it that makes things go away?

I've searched long and hard for an anwer
And come up to only a subtle piano key
Being played
I've made every doubt perish
Every thought die
Still it lingers
Still it lingers in my eyes

We've pushed through things we didnt' know were there
And forgot those with which we built bridges to
And, to end it all, we've come this far

II.

Things change and roll on
I've lost every sensation but memory
Taken from me everything
Stolen in the night
Passion misplaced
Ransacked houses

I'M FROM AYUTHIA IN THAILAND, MADE OF TEAK,
I HAVE SO MANY STORIES IF I COULD SPEAK,
I'VE SEEN YOU LAUGH AND HEARD YOU CRY
AND EVEN WATCHED YOU WAVE GOODBYE;
STANDING HERE ON THE TV, THERE'S NO
BETTER VIEW IT SEEMS TO ME, THAT MAYBE
I SHOUD WRITE A BOOK - DON'T FROWN NOW,
I KNOW THAT LOOK, KNOW YOUR MOODS, KNOW
WHEN ANGER EXUDES FROM HIDDEN PORES AND
PETULANCE SHOWS ITSELF FROM UNKNOWN STORES;
THERE HAVE BEEN THE GOOD TIMES BUT MY MOOD
IS FIXED, NO WAY OF SAYING - EMOTIONS MIXED,
JUST REMEBER THAT I'M HERE FOR YOU, BROUGHT
WITH LOVE - A GUIDING LIGHT FROM HEAVEN ABOVE.

Langston was a late bloomer
She kissed me with a devotion
Lovely






8 The angle shoud be 99 per cent

Not snoop ****** round
Blink think nonstop sexed Up
   'tea at five' Hi
Tectonics

Small, unnoticed,
Just a flicker in your chest,
Not enough to realize.

How long has it been since you felt it last?

Grand, unpredicted,
Exploding lights in my chest,
Dumb enough to realize.

How long can I last without feeling it again?

You say it's better to scare it off,
I say it's better to face it off,

Don't you think, that I know,
How bad is this for my own?

You realize,
And you decide,
That my wings shoud be shaved off.
While all I want,
Is our wings to fly together.

If I'm a silly butterfly,
I hope he is drums and fireworks on the rain

IT IS AT ONCE

( for Monica )

It is at once
nothing and everything.

A simple incident
on meeting.

"Your shoelace is open
Mr. Dempsey."

she tells him in case he
shoud fall or stumble.

"I know that love
but I can't get down to it."

So, Monica Sweeney
kneels and ties

my father's undone shoelace.

This simple act of compassion
and respect for his age

achieves for him
almost Biblical proportions.

It's almost insignificance
a tiny treasure."

"It was like being Christ..."
he will tell me after as

only he could tell it
each telling bringing tears.

"...having his feet dried
by Mary Magdalene's hair."

Even in his dying
he will recall it

" that lady helped me
whenI couldn't help myself

she was kindness itself"

It was at once
everything and nothing

you shoud give in to temptation, at least that is what wilde tells us. but if you do, if you allow your soul's deepest wish to come true, dont you just give room for more? more to wish for more to hope for? is that really any better than keeping a temptation?

It must be a dream but I don't remember closing my eyes, it truely is a dream
I don't remember reality feeding me lies
If you crave a happy ending then clearly you haven't been paying attention
This must be the ally I heard about
Keep breathing which is hard when panic pushes oxygen into my lungs
This isn't my bed, its unfamiliar, there shoud be another way to explain it
A doorway but no door, should I call for help Wait I'm dreaming
Do you know what's going on?
Ignoring the freakness moving closing closest I feel the burn, I'm squessing my fits
I'm not looking to get saved, I'm grown
I'm a lady I should wake up and go ***.

I told them that what bothered me was
Everything and nothing in particular
Shoud it provide comfort?
To not have a demon?
To not have a cause?
To not have an answer?
Questions and tears are all that’s left

Broken hearts, broken bottles, broken lives
Tear and Tear and Tear at the very root of my soul

No one knows the future,
And even less know the past.

We just sit here,
Stationary
Plagued by those momentary thoughts of hope
Only to realize, that hope is fleeting

Love
Fear
Death
Cries
All succumb to the nature of what it is to be:


Human

I know I should be grateful
because I have all to be:
I've got a house and food
and people to bother me;
And I know I should be grateful
to be made someone someday,
why I'm not a can't say.
We made things harder by making them easier,
I should think about school,
about grades and the rules
I should keep myself busier!
I shoud look myself more tidy,
I should speak like this and that,
Your baldness and healthy skin
are caused by the same hat.
I should be so much
that I don't want too!
I'm thinking of Greek afternoons, and islands and butterflies...

I can't feel anything.
I'm just empty.
I can't absorb everything.
I'm so lonely.
I can't just take this.
I feel so gloomy.
What shoud I do?

Some its said have an aversion to domestic
chores. Its effect rubs away relationships,
after cleaning, slumpt in a heap I am good
for nothing.

Magazines try to advise befriending
the routine. Check in when you begin, allow
the mind to wander and reflect.

Those uneasy decions years since -
let them go. Remember it’s not
a quake. Afterall it’s only an

after shock so there shoud be
no ill effects. This bouncing around
itches my bleached flesh

on my arm pock marks glisten like a
gritty saucepan bottom. Standing at
the sink, dripping from scuttling

memories of happy events. Lassoed
by the cleaner cable I feel the rushing tug
of dust up the pipe. It wasn’t your fault a voice

shouts loud, as I watch sparrows on
the fence, whistling, at wasting energy,
complaining about moments passed.

On the radio the jingle, jangle of
Mr Tambourine Man speaks of dreams
waiting between crisp cotton.

the same questions,

I'm asking myself ones again,

how, why,

results are always the same,

spent up and used up emotional pain,

it feels like am dragging a ball n a chain,

uphill in the rain..

never again..

and I mean it this time,

but lose grip n fall soon as I start to clime.

I feel so tired, I feel so weak,

the same words ones again I mentally speak,

a power greater then me

I shoud try to seek,

but i cause upset, mistrust

I lie and i sneak.

so if god dose exsist or forces in stealth,

why should they take notice

unless I help myself..

I don't understand why i cannot break free,

when I do understand what it's doing to me..

see for a minute or two I may feel fine,

when I smoke on that pipe or sniff up a line..

but what follows is awful

inside me it's carnage,

hiding bags and used pipes in the garbage..

I sweat and I panic,

im paronid and im stressed,

it feel like my Heart is gonna beat out my chest..

the mental torcher

and awful anxiety,

now in such dark place I long for sobriety..

i guess its apparent, it must be addiction,

not thinking twice about what i was mixing,

heating a spoon on the hob in kitchen..

but now looking back

i must recall the pain..

when it smashed me to bits..

almost sent me insane,

so when these dark thoughts

next enter my brain,

I have all tools to keep it contained..

I'm now In control,

drugs have no hold on me,

I'm no longer a slave,

finally I'm breaking free..

Its about Time
I am What I am.

Its about Time
I do What I shoud have done.

Its about Time
I accept and Just Move On and On.

Its about Time
I will be perfectly Fine.

I don't understand how you seem so perfect.
I don't understand how your smile can light up a room. (And so much more)
I don't understand why I feel this way.
You're a friend, nothing else.
So why do I find myself thinking of you,
when I shoud be paying attention to my classes?
Why do I find myself doodling your name everywhere, and hearts?
Why is this happening?
I don't understand....

every second of a time is necessary
for that to understand you need to
you need to
listen to player
player that plays  different game
in every second of time
you do not know what will happen
in less than a minute there
there could be earthquake
or natural disaster
in less than a minute
you could be saved by
saved by a miracle
in times of a game you understand
what a score means
what a basket means
what the time
time means
when you are in pressure
you do not act cool
you act like
vampire
vampire in a rage mode
you do not understand
the lost time
the same lost time
i leaned at the side
at the side of window
doing nothing
i did not realize
what had i lost
i had lost
i couldnot revive
the time i had lost
i learned  at subjects
that we shoud not waste time
we should use it in productive way
so that we can
we ca get good possible
possible outcome
so we should save time  

be punctual,save time

CALL:
Alone in this lofty and deserted place,
Have I patiently and eagerly waited.
Among men each day have I search your face;
Each time have I been disappointed.
Your absence seems to me a punishment;
Your presence I longed for my relieve.

RESPONSE:
"Distance" they always say,
"Make the heart grow fonder."
I know the feeling; got me thinking all day,
How committed we are, even than a lover
But I pray thee, thou shoud tarry a little while
Still have lots of cooking to do

CALL:
What's all these appearing?
Not too nice to hear.
Thy absence is due to cooking?
How sour it sound in the ear.
Should cooking be element to neglect,
And seeing a sister as garbage?

RESPONSE:
Oh! My intent you wrongly explain.
Food preserve the skin from dying;
A waste effort much to my disdain.
My 'FOOD' let lives keep living.
Poetic words like the spiritual,
Very obscure; especially to the carnal.

CALL:
The life clock is ticking so fast,
Trivially the time is still.
And now we are older than the past,
Boom! Death caught us neglecting our will.
I pray thee: bargain not with death;
Because being nature, none can cheat.

RESPONSE:
Like crossword puzzle, can't decifer your line.
Send my memory into an endless journey.
I pray death absence when I dine
Till I reveal the mystery of misery
Knows clock ticks, time's still and death's sure,
My destiny I fulfill; my mission will I complete.

CALL:
Words making the dead jealous
Envious of we yet living
Life's good; Alas! Each steps is dangerous
Only the determined keep on going
But tell me, what Keep you floating?

RESPONSE:
"And I shall fly high
Not that I won't die
But before the die be cast
I would have been above the sky"
My ink is almost dry
Yet, I've got many things to write
But to put things alright,
Am now around: can we see tonight?