A little life with
Works and schemes
And white hairs strangled in the snow
Feathers more than choked I hope,
Well oh **** help me...
Let me go?

Snow Callie.
One Callie
Cally-in-the-Spring.
That's maybe what they'd call you
Based on what your life could bring.

So many names invented
Based on hedgerows where you hide
Tell me you're not lurking there
- or tell me you're alive -
Don't. I see you Em, and Em and maybe all besides
I see you smile sadly and the lonely long low tides
The waves crash on; I think I know - I see the way she smuggles much
I know she smuggles something and yet never quite enough

Break rocks and snap her feathers
but maybe do not curl her
locks
For I know she's taking notes and her world will be made of rocks.

The bus roars on
With blinding speed
Sparing nothing behind
Crushing each object on its way
To where it goes?
No one knows.
Passengers sit
Going along
Towards futility
Pockets heavy
Like never again
Expressions dead
Like never before
In a trance
They were not so always
When kids,
They'd never known of the bus
Till while growing up they heard about it
And till it finally made
That perilous halt
Right at their doorstep!
Yet they wanted to keep away
But were stealthily enticed
Led!
Forced!
Pushed into!
Driven!
Inside the bus....
On the bandwagon
And once inside
The noise and shine
All shut their eyes
And blinded their eyes
Froze their brains
And now
They became one of them..
Them travellers...
All in vain to be...
If only I'd stayed behind
away from all this show
I'd have had so much more!
Who wants the comfort of these seats
Or the delicacies they serve here
Niether the coins of gold and silver
They keep stuffing in our pockets
Making them heavy
So I can't get up
And run out
And I guess
No matter how much i wish otherwise
I have to stay
So that each time I pass my house
I can throw all coins I've collected
And yet
Each time my pockets feels light
I wish to go out
But!
More coins
Bigger and shinier
Would be stuffed in
And the weight
Would anchor me down
Ah!Life!
I miss all of it!
All of what is out there
I can see
See... but do nothing
I look around in the bus
Eyes with fulfilled hollowness
Yearnings
Wants
And underlying concealed longings
So devoid of joy
Or any emotion
Blinded by ever increasing ambitions
Yet decorated
With memories
That slowly drain away
Desires....
When did they last sit with friends
On a careless bench in the park
Laughing.
Talking.
Mocking.
Enjoying.
Living!
When did they last stop
To feel the air all cool and comforting
Dance around them?
When did they last feel
The joy of the innocent raindrops
Hearing it pitter patter on their umbrellas
See it skip in the water
And then feel it dissolve in their skin.
When last did they sit with their mothers
And cried their hearts out?
Or just talk with her
Thank her
And tell her how much they love her
When did they last spare moments
To forget all world
And get lost in old photographs
Remains of the past
Of time that was the sweetest
And that which never again would be.
When last did Anton who sits all faded at the back
Paint with his beloved brushes
Coloured the canvas
Coloured his world
When did Raghav
Who now lies beside me like a lifeless carcass
Last flirt with his romantic guitar
Wearing music
That made him look so full of life
Their fingers are all decayed
Stiffened
Under the load of crude machines
When did that old man
Last hug his son
And kissed his daughter
What was the last time when
That woman danced
To her favourite songs
Not at a party
Not for concerts
But for herself
To give her that joy
And the sheer euphoric high
Oh!
We have missed out so much!
Stray walks in the parks
On cold grass
Thousands of sunrises and thousands of sunsets
Gazing at the ever changing clouds
Dancing with the winds
Talking to friends
And family
Who are real and not just some animated strangers
Who appear each night for an hour
And then ravish
We have missed out on those walks in the sends
Barefoot
Just staring at the opera of water with ripples and wares
Admiring the night sky
Watching those many birds
Fly high
Carefree
Unbound
We have missed out on those unbeatable flavours
That mothers conjure.
Those rides on the bikes,
Away from worries.
Those strolls with the beloved.
Those heartiest of laughs with siblings.
Those cleverest of pranks.
Those sweetest of quarrels,
The sheer enigma of accompanying silence,
When we sat with ourselves.
Oh! We have missed it all!
Now the world is this bus
Where each one travels
Willingly or otherwise
Passengers keep adding
Once in,
You cannot go out
And the slightest of attempts
Raises so many brows
And all stares are on you
And so you have to let go
Just continue sitting in the bus
Lying there like a prisoner of our own law
And what you get in the end is nothing
Just pass on the legacy
To travellers who come
Keep coming.
I know how much I've missed
I know how much I've lost
Oh! How I'd give anything to get out
Where i could have all that i really want
This world with its ways
Constantly suffocates me
Darkness smuggles around me
My tears are all drained out
My voice lies buried somewhere within
And emotions have long extinguished out
Driving me mad
As each second counts ahead
I see the bus marching gallantly
Destroying all dreams
That are strewn ahead
Some of them are mine
Or were....
And more of them will come
And be destroyed
And can I do just nothing
But sit here hopelessly
Be led
And driven
To empty glory
Away from all that I have?
From all that I steadily lose?
From all that I care for?
From all that I want?
Oh! Enough!
I have had a lot of this ride
Now make way for me
I am done with this confinement
And now I reclaim my life.
Ah! They stare at me again
Raising their brows
Horrid expressions
As if I am wrong!
Who cares what they think!
I am now going back
Some of them want to come with me
But are scared of others
But I have seen a lot!
Take these empty coin of yours, I say
Throwing them all away and rising up
My breath is returning and so is my voice
I'm going back to where I'll be free
And happy!
And be able to live and not just drag on!
And so the bus slows and I shout to the driver
Stop this world!I want to get off!

Poet lives amongst people,
in the land of sadness and happiness, where they live,
he dresses up like them, speaks like them,
in their language he had to learn.
But when he is on his own, he speaks in own tongue
to not to forget it.
He speaks with the dead, he keeps in touch with them,
to make sure everything goes according to plan.

He is afraid to tell what he sees,
in case people put him down and disbelieve.
He forces himself to keep his mouth shut,
he knows the price. He can't just die,
he's on a mission. So carefully
he smuggles in the truth in his poetry.

As time quickly approaches
On the planed escape
Gunther smuggles the files in
While Mildred bakes the cake

But that doesn't much matter
For our two on the run
In all the confusion
The oven was never turned on

So they slipped out the front door
When Gladys the receptionist was gone
Out for her morning coffee
And cigarette on the lawn

They made it as far as the sidewalk
As far as the authorities could tell
When they both turned around
Before their bladders gave out

They need a new plan of escape
One that can be followed with ease
Before it's to late
Since they're both weak in the knees

Our hero's will have to wait another day
For their chance at freedoms song
For now they'll hang up their walkers
And devise another plan on getting gone

It was a heated night of Bingo
When Gunther got the idea
They'd go out with the wash
In a basket both hid

So they packed up their dentures
Along with their Poly Grip
As both of them readied
For their laundry trip

Now in the back of the truck
Rolling down 95
Same age as our escapee's
If you care to count time

They later hijacked the truck
When the driver they sacked
Now they travel life's highway
With nothing but the wind to their back

We- The streets that fathered the lost freaks. 
Let them step on us, **** on us. Now the whole town reeks
of defeat. The concrete crumbles under their feet. 
Splits and cracks now the living and hell dwellers meet. 

Soulless creatures cut the preachers nose from his face. 
Tie his ******* knot to stop the loud talk. 
Then chase the lost children away from gods grace 
to taste lust on their young tongues. To waste breath 

    with blackened lungs. 

Half hell, half town. 
Can’t you tell we fell down? 

We- the town that belongs down here now-  
Watch the children bow to the man with the crown now. 
Red skin, black suit-  and it really burns how
his tongue twists truth like a noose for a neck. “Bow

      Your little heads”.

Half hell, half town. 
Can’t you tell we fell down? 

The little flowers in full bloom don’t long for a groom. 
Instead they swoon for the creatures and take them to their room. 
The smell of sweat, lust and perfume. We can only presume 
That it won’t be long before theres a monster in the womb. 

      An Ungodly creation.   

Half hell, half town. 
Can’t you tell we fell down?

The first baby is born- and every parent is mourning. 
The devil has sworn that by the time his hairs thorning
he will be all knowing- they will be saved by his fore-warnings. 
Unless, torn by his human half he seeks a quiet cold morning 

     above ground. 

Half hell, half town. 
Can’t you tell we fell down?

And What can a parent do? Staring at the cold truth
in their fiery endless doom, they can only cry for the fate of the youth.  
They can only obey the orders of the red crown and black suit.
They can only watch as he takes each and every single tooth

    of their young.  

Half hell, half town. 
Can’t you tell we fell down?

The new mother struggles without a man to aid her.
Her earthly father smuggles food to try and save her
and her young two week old son from their slaver.
But caught, he’s left to rot and told over and over he betrayed her.

     His blooded hands cease fighting.  

Half hell, half town. 
Can’t you tell we fell down?
    
 We are the redemption of an eye for an eye.
We are the blind world that it leads to.  
We are the bodies hung high and dry.

*You are but the mouth that this world feeds through.

I’ve tickled it into his naked back,
When he’s ******* me it spools around my tongue,
I devote myself with every playful smack –
And harder still when certain smacks have stung.

I never thought I’d fall for such a man,
Who smuggles love like drugs inside a coat,
I love loudly just because I can,
The words collect like songbirds in my throat -

Or three boats arranged into a fleet,
To sit behind a hesitating sky,
Sulking with the shyess of retreat,
Billowing with every loaded sigh.

There's more to it and more to come,
save your daylight
but
burn the sun,

I've run out of matches,
and
Lowry
painting matchstick men is unaware
of my desire
to torch and set the world on fire,

then
when this is then and now was when back then
I'll paint my life as matchstick men.

They've offered me therapy
because they want
a quiet me
but I'm not going to have it
I'm just going to rant a bit more,

I told you there was more.


Easter eggs.

Why we overindulge on these chocolate treats
beats me
and what do eggs have to do with Easter?

the juggling jester smuggles in laughter
as background to his show

and that's what it is,
a show
Easter  bunnies and upset tummies and
a long queue for the conveniences.

Killjoys are not always little whining boys
men can be them too
I can whine as well as anyone
except
the whinging 'Pom'
he's in a class of his own.

I would thank...you
There is such beauty in your...pain
And there is the...healer in.me.
but the ache let's me know I'm alive
I've loved you in my hea(rt)d
and my hea(d)rt longs to.know.you.more.
I was so rarely lonely...before,...I met you
...and it doesn't/wouldn't/couldn't/won't have
to make sense to anyone,...but me and {maybe} you
//how you seeped into my bones//linger in my mouth//your pirate smile smuggles my thoughts//
And,....tell me now, darling; how do I get
through...tonight...today
{knowing you are out there}
And we con-nect-ed....
SO...ManY...Dots...
andwordsmatter.
When it went  //     silen.t.    //
well...
it just knocked me to the floor...
...and i've been laying/lying/laid/lain there
ever...
...since...

Started off aweful
But thanks to re adjustment.
Got cups like a cabinet
No Kleenex stuffing
Thank you very much miss  hilary duff man
Keep it up and...
You'll get schooled up in the dumb class....

Dominican republic. Where the tan lines border on disgusting
Highway traffic marker kind of stuffiness
Snorting  lines just keep on coming....

Hot and fresh. So get it. While I pull out oven ready muffins.
Top 5 **** scenes on the internet
Are all of women getting ****** while stuck inside of ovens
Something of a taboo subject
So let's not actually discuss it.
Cheeseburger Eddie's television stuntman.
And mcdonalds ba da ba pa loves it....
Made of luncheon meat lasagna and snack size muffins in my lunch kit...
Getting harassed for stashing ***.
Like a drug mule smuggles stuff up in his luggage....
Security like **** search and seizure
Wheres your gloves at...
Steve o. You on jack ***. But where you from and wheres that *** at...
I'll stop bragging about something that hasn't even happened yet.
Like cmon girl ******* **** that...
But ima tell you like cartman
Hes just a boy you shouldn't a done that....

Oh god I hope this isn't foreshadowing.


I'm not ready for remediation to the dumb class...
And line consumption should be subject. To legalization. In a subclass
Jail oh great. So I'm terry crews ******* ******* stuntman...
Who wants mcdonalds. When you got healthy choices from Janet at the public mental systems lunch van...
******* in conclusion.
Is where steve o. Keeps the *** at....