(it's unmissable)
what do you want
I am the master of my own fate
but deep down inside my self wants everything to fail
so i keep on rowing the boats and breathing while I sleep
to reach the destination everyone wants to get to but some wait longer
like me and patient as i am i can no longer survive so instead
i live and live on because I keep rolling on to get better
and better instead things keep dwindling down
until i reach the bottom and there I softly
hit the ground because They want me
to keep going and rolling on (to get
better and better) so I listen to all
of them like I have before and
the music cracks louder
and there's a pause
when you look
at me so I
smile

at the end I see the door
there is no heaven and there is no hell
they're just going to send me right back
to the ******* beginning again
(it's unmissable)

Don’t read this if you’re squeamish,
Or if you’re eating food at the present,
Since some of the subjects discussed in this poem,
Are let’s just say rather unpleasant,

On the subject of donating organs,
Or the subject of organs at all,
It’s not unusual for my claims to leave,
Some subjects feeling pretty appalled,

Now I’d say that most people die,
In fact I’d vouch that it happens quite often,
But when my time comes, set has my sun,
I want all of me in that coffin,

Now I get it, I’d save lives if I donated,
And I don’t mean to sound like a **** (yes I do),
But the unmissable flaw, the foot in the door,
Is that not all of my parts seem to work,

My eyes are screwy, my heart’s far too cold,
The state of my lungs’ll make you shiver,
My kidneys too small, I'm not sure I have a pancreas,
And don’t get me started on my liver,

And let me tell you with a face like mine,
Not showcasing this beauty’s a sin,
But it’s awfully hard to have an open casket,
If I’m not sporting any of my skin

It’s selfish and weird I know that,
But my eyes are where my soul is exposed!
…Yeah actually my soul’s pretty tainted,
Can someone make sure that my eyes are closed?

I only want those I love to have a part of me,
So if I’m forced, if I’m forced, to partake,
-
-
-
They’ll be frying up my organs,
For refreshments at my wake.

The arms, legs, heads
were covered in clay
but their bodies
hadn't decayed.
They were trapped
in ice, transparent,
clean. That is the role
of bodies. To be seen.
That is the role of
children. To sit
quietly counting
coins. To brush
the long blonde
hair of their
sister (mother.)
To not be heard.
The dead leaves
of trees are
too loud.
Crunching under-
foot. Who am I
to investigate?
To take samples
of hair and
skin. To match
DNA and finger-
prints. No, the
ice should not
melt. As it
struggles to
survive in the
sunlight. The bodies
thaw. Heart first.
And I am trapped.
plunging the
secrets of rope
around throat.
Of stab wounds
and bullet sites.
And the blood
is so cold. So
very cold and
unforgiving,
unmissable,
uncharted,
until my hands
slice,
sift,
silence.

Friendship
What is the first thing to enter your head when I say this word?
It could be rainbows
or braided bracelets
or that infamous song from spongebob

For me, it is that first time I hadn't seen you in a while.
summer had pulled us apart to follow in our own ways the paths our parents set out for us to follow
and your arms opened wide and your legs took the form of a film reel long finished as soon as I came into view
and I followed your lead
as if running towards the softest
warmest
most loving embrace I would ever receive
from the worlds most adorable teddy bear.

It is the time you cared enough to ask how I was with a stern face
and tried to trick me into being alone with you so you could talk some sense into me
after giving you a heart attack the night before in the form of Helvetica text font filled text messages dotted with guilt and crossed with "I'm sorry"'s.

It is the countless sleepovers that seem to have all blended into one neverending night
full of dreary eyes and cheeks worn from the pushing of grins
smiling at the most simple things became customary
and laughing morphed into tears around 3am or so
and I held your hand as sharp words flew from your mouth and rolled down your cheeks as you spoke about a demon long since diminished.

It is the way we arrived back late after a 4 hour drive in the middle of the night and our dreams took place under a duvet in a double bed shared between 3
our ears were still ringing from the sound of overplayed static and our feet were sick of standing but we managed to fit anyway,
I sleep so well surrounded by the bodies of the two people I admire the most with every fibre of my living being,
just close enough for the comfort of 3 in a single bed after too many cans on your 18th birthday.

It is the time I couldn't walk straight after only 3 pathetic glasses of gallery wine
you had to leave
but all I wanted was for you to come back so I could spill secrets I couldn't tell the others yet with ease
because your ears always seemed the softest to rest my worries on
and you are so skilled in the art of dissolving them afterwards
that I only hope I can always do the same for you.

It is the slow walk up the driveway each morning to the desolate institute filled with others draped in the same navy fog that comes with waking up
which became so much lighter when I would remember that you were inside its walls
waiting for me with a warm smile and a laugh that could move mountains and shakes my very soul
something it still does so well even after weeks of missing you
and the way your radiating joy infects me so easily every time
no matter what kind of walkway brings us together.

it's the time you came over equipped with glass bottles and liquid happiness
and I never felt more at home than I did after seeing the sky stretched out above us and the nights cold breath causing goosebumps to erupt beneath our pyjama-clad frames
and we were all that existed in our cocoon of comfort,
how when we sat down to contemplate the reality of our existence
I was suddenly okay with the idea of physical affection
and I still am.

it is the time I was choking on everything I felt I could never get far enough to move past my lips
but you sat there
smiling
held my hand in yours
and helped me to dilute all the poison that had seeped into my blood because of him for 2 years too long
while you justified the importance of me to myself
and your eyes were the most reassuring thing my own had ever had the comfort of witnessing.

it's the way you embody everything beautiful I've ever admired the human race for
and how, no matter the weather,
I know getting coffee, tea,
or chocolate soya milk
and talking about your new favourite song
how you found this great new band
the impossibility of the ethereal beauty of girls
and even boys sometimes
or how this one character in that tv show you told me about makes me feel things I can't describe,
will always eliminate the clouds my shoulders find too heavy to hold on a sunday morning.

I will never be capable of expressing how grateful I am with the words 'thank you'
because those two syllables barely scratch the surface of the immensity of hope and happiness you bring into my life unlike any other I could begin to try and imagine

I am blessed with the most beautiful souls who have shaped my own in ways I will never forget
and I will never forget the way your hand gestures tell your stories
or the way your eyes illuminate electric blue when you talk about that band you love so much
or the way your whole body laughs uncontrollably at the most ridiculous of things with me
or the way your smile makes me feel like everything is going to be okay in the end
or how the reassurance of your small hands and eternal hugs is a constant reminder that I am, in fact, loved.

I don't know how long you will stay in my life.
if we will be stretched to the edge of our reasoning
pulled apart by distance
or unmissable opportunities
kept barely intact by group chats or late night phone calls that aren't the same as the times each others faces were the only sources of light at the end of too many long and tired days.

but for now
I thank you
and I love you.

i.

without words,
boy, caught up in the dark,
brown-eyed boy,

as night drifts,
dark in her clouds.

ii.

a tumbling
star,
leaden feet
sink to earth,

drowning stream...
poured from a water jug
a dark, crackling sky.  

iii.

night's thick opiates
glaze,

unmissable sky
sinks anchor-like.

iv.

slumber-heavy,
dreams carried to the stars,
lost time
stretching like a cat.

v.

boy, sleep sound tonight,
brown-eyed boy,

as night drifts
dark in her clouds.

Until today, I never understood heartache.

I never understood that thinking about you (how the thoughts come unbidden yet so welcome entrancing encompassing dizzying worrying wonderful) -
your name
your voice - strong and low, speaking softly, only for me
the thickness of your hair, the way it feels against my fingers when I hold your head in my hands
the way your skin tastes after a night of making love
the warmth of your hands and your mouth and your laugh
your scent, that somehow reminds me of both my childhood and times and places I have never known

the feeling of you inside me, molded close and perfect, and the way you toss your head and ***** up your eyes while we're at our peak, as if I were the one who was so unmissable

- could make my insides curl and twist so hard that I have to stop what I'm doing, set down my glass or pen, stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

I am drowning in you, taking in deep lungfuls of you, absorbing you into my bloodstream.
The sweetest little death I could ever imagine.

When you think of touristy locales, Italy is at the top of the list,
Picking a specific place at random would be wise to desist,
The options are so many that one is spoilt for choice,
But at the end of it all, it is a matter to rejoice

Overlooking the sunny Amalfi Coast, Positano boasts of a picturesque landscape,
Colorful, cliffside villas beckon visitors wanting to experience the "great escape",
The sophisticated resort town is the jewel of southern Italy's iconic Amalfi Coast,
The spectacular setting of this vertical town is so enchanting that it deserves a toast

Positano is just a forty minute ferry ride from neighboring town Sorrento,
The sound of waves crashing against the pebbled shores is sheer gusto,
Not surprising that Positano translated means a "place to stop",
The visual dramatic vertical panorama of colors serves the perfect backdrop

Seen from the sea, Positano projects a stunning color combo that is visually transcendent,
The unmissable green of the Monti Lattari mountain range appears so gloriously resplendent,
The white, pink and yellow of the cascading Mediterranean houses have a vertiginous effect,
The blue of the sea and the silvery grey of the pebble beaches provide the surreal connect

The imposing, colorful majolica-tiled dome of the Church of Santa Maria Assunta is iconic,
A testament to Positano's beauty and history, seeing it's revered architectural work is euphoric,
A Byzantine-inspired icon of the ****** Mary can be seen in the church's interior,
It is popular for exchanging wedding vows, with an impressive belltower on the exterior

Positano's waterfront is the Spiaggia Grande pristine beach whose grandoise is no empty boast,
Spanning in excess of three hundred meters, it is one of the largest in the Amalfi Coast,
Reputed for it's ever crowded sandy shores and a postcard-worthy view that is breathtakingly intense,
As visitors chill out in umbrella-shaded lounge chairs, savoring an unforgettable experience

Access to downtown involves climbing steps, steep winding walkways and narrow streets,
Trendy fashion brands on display in numerous cute clothing boutiques are a visual treat,
Art galleries, souvenir shops and ceramicware shops abound every step of the way,
One cannot but pause and admire the various artisans' intricate works that hold sway

Handmade leather sandals, customized and readily crafted to perfection is an authentic Positano experience,
Rows and rows of designer clothing shops convey local artisans' innovative ways of wielding purchasing influence,
Limoncello liquer made with Amalfi Coast lemons is a Positano specialty that absolutely must be tasted,
That it is the second most popular liquer in Italy (after Campari) and made from neutral alcohol cannot be understated

Amalfi lemons are very sweet, prized for their low acidity and delicate flavor,
Used for making jams, sorbettos, preserves and various desserts to savor,
Campania cuisine have a generous dose of flavoring with Amalfi lemon juice or zest,
Visitors thronging local restaurants are treated to delicacies that are some of the best

Positano's countless romantic restaurants serve a plethora of seafood offerings and local specialties,
Barilotto is an unique cheese that is subtly sweet with creamy and mild flavors, sans any trivialities,
The cheese aromas are delicate, fresh and buttery with a hard, smooth and firm texture offering,
Made from water buffalo's milk by heating the whey & aged for at least forty days, before becoming a serving

The memories of this picturesque town linger long after the visit is done,
As you tick off another scenic Italian locale that has hearts to be won,
Images of the colorful setting (s) remain hard to erase from the mind,
As you set about planning the next adventure, leaving this one behind

I find your lips
so kissable.

And your kiss
unmissable.

Your fingertips
untouchable.

And your eyes
irresistible.

and roused from the back of my mind was
a warm breath of childlike wonder, present
in the twinkling of my eyes
that he called "unmissable," like it was the reason he drew toward me

with a blade called fate to my neck
and promised me escape, finally, since nobody else would.
but he spoke in shimmering riddles, tongue dipped in a persuasive agent.
he did not miss his clarity. he did not miss much anymore.
by his hand, and with God as his witness, he would keep any of that nonsense
far from the equation. he would **** that which once made him feel alive.
walled away somewhere deep inside of him, behind visible ribs and invisible slate
i observed a faraway macabre, and it did not deter me, and it did not want to.
i took his hand, which was good, since mine still trembled.
i let him pull me into the same rank pit
he had occupied for some time now. drawn, quartered.
the skin around his eyes crusting, blackening, oculars submerged in pale.
through needles were salvation; he fully intended to alter pace
and allow himself, for once, something of his doing.
solace, if not brief solace, from wretchedness.
a scarce commodity.
nothing can shine down here.
and i'm surviving on what kills me.

Mr Graves
Met him on a Friday, September 2006, from that day life was never the same, it was almost as if I knew he was there, even before I saw him with my own two eyes before I heard his name
When his name was spoken it brought chills down my spine, how could his name be somehow related to mine?
On arrival he brought with him an uneasy feeling of being alone in the darkness, as if in a nightmare I hoped that within moments of a slight pinch I would be awake and could forget about him
But this was no dream, this was real and so is he
A friend of a brother of mine, he was never spoken to, he’d been around for years before I met him, he would be there, never spoken to, barely spoken about but it was he who was there without a doubt
Should my brother have warned me about him before hand? Why did he bury his head in the sand? Why did I never ask about him? Was he one of my main concerns before he came knocking?
A surprise visit he came uninvited, tumbled in my life, I didn’t like it
Like I was the sun and he was the moon, no intentions of leaving this earth any time soon
Just me and him in this world alone, like a flat mate from hell he made me moan, not only did I have to get to know him but also his language his history and most of all his many traits so annoying
For instance, I hated the way makes me mad, even the little things make me angry sometimes pushing me to the point of explosion, emotions gushing like an ocean
When I feel the blood boil beneath my skin..that was him
Nobody else could see it was him doing this to me
However even they could see that deep almost evil stare, constantly watching every move, he was everywhere
Sometimes he makes me cry, droplets fall from my eyes, he didn’t hurt me with his fist of knife but used psychological torture to ruin my life
Tears fall
Times passes
He’s still here
My eyes now swollen and puffy, people can see the effects he’s having on me
If only I could get rid of him, but when he’s gone I’ll still feel the sting
Making him so unforgettable, when he goes is he really gone at all, and then maybe one day he’ll visit again, maybe next time he’ll stay until the end
Is he really gone or is it all an illusion, making fantasy, reality out of confusion
Tears stop
Times moved fast
He’s still here
He’s been with me a while now months turn to years, but iv still not come to terms with him being here, still feels as if we just met
Each day I see him, he looks me straight in the eyes, I try to look straight past him I try and I try
Unmissable in day, even more noticeable at night, no matter what I try to do in my daily life, he’ll be there to plant that seed of doubt
My confidence has fallen because he’s always putting me down, every time I try to smile it turns into a frown
He makes me paranoid where ever I may be, as everyone’s pointing whispering gossiping, curious to know about me
I tell myself time and time again, ‘dont let yourself become a victim of his vicious game’  At the end of the day I still feel the same, after all he is the one to blame
He was the reason I took the pills, telling me he’d go if I did as they say, at that time I would have done anything to make him go away
At first to please him I did just as they said, and then I began to use my own head
If he wanted a war just me against him, he could do his worst to my body but my mind wouldn’t let him win
We battled out weeks, months and years, until I was fully over the feeling of my fears
He didn’t go away, in fact he’s still here, but now to me his meaning has become crystal clear
He didn’t come to be my friend nor my enemy, I now think he was sent to bring out the better in me
I’m almost used to having him around, as if now a whole new me has now been found, I see everything so differently now , every time I look around
I see the world so bright now no longer staring at the ground
Maybe it was all meant to be, not by chance but defiantly, he was sent here looking for me
Since he came I saw the other side of the coin, perception on life changed
Was he really so bad after all?
He’s shown me not to live life in vein, no longer seeing things the same
He stuck around for so long, daily torture make me strong
Although at the time it felt wrong
I now feel glad he came along!

guilt tied itself
around my wrist
like a red balloon
don't tell me this
is the gist
it follows me around
north, east, south
and westbound
an unmissable reminder
of what i have done
see, it's all just a rerun
a **** show or a gag show
it's been so long since
i last saw a rainbow
a red balloon
friend, it's just air
but it's so heavy
and let me tell you
it has never been easy
so i guess maybe
the walls crack
because sometimes what
they hear
is just too much
to bear

Heavy expectations, preparations galore,
To witness the night of glory and L'amore.

Moon was eager to rise and sun refuted to set,
That was the charisma of the night which the two souls beget.

Time was running and hearts started pounding,
To reach the destination and visualize the hearts rebounding.

An Italian rendezvous, at an Indian enigma of nizam,
In an exotic style of feast, they share a conversation of purism.

The joy within was inexplicable,
With the right aroma of love on table.

The rich culture of India's great glory,
With the classic mixture of king's short story.

The ******, an unmissable moment,
With the hand in hand the souls enjoy the love slogan.

Hearts were filled with joy,
And the angels bestowed their blessings and foy.

The night ended with heart full emotions,
Satisfied with magical love potion.

Reality made a dreadful turn,
Magical to ludicrous was that moment, spent with a deceitful spurn.

Falseness prevailed all over,
bringing down the purity to filthy left over.

Drenched in the sea of sorrow,
That night remained more like a knight mare, killing the beautiful tomorrow.

Certainly, that was the glory of the night
That it shall be remembered in the memories in sight.

If Pablo Picasso's name doesn't ring a bell, it is indeed a rarity,
Welcome to Malaga, Picasso's birthplace - an unique identity,
Known for his exquisite paintings & sculptures, Picasso is a legend,
That his work is still considered sensational, need not be questioned

As Costa del Sol's capital, Malaga in Spain's Andalusia is a vibrant coastal city,
Lying along a wide bay of the Mediterranean Sea, it constantly bustles with activity,
Excellent weather all-year round, renders it an idyllic tourist haven,
It's mountain geography and sun-drenched beaches - delight for a travel maven

The city is replete with a profusion of museums, daring street art and eateries,
Add to it, centuries-old heritage and beaches, that always hold pleasant memories,
Delightful pedestrianized centers and stunning views add to the city's intrigue,
Casual strolls to several picturesque locales hardly gives room for any fatigue

The hilltop Arab palace fortress of Alcazaba provides panoramic sweeping sea views,
Roman marble pillars & Moorish horseshoe arches add to stunning architectural hues,
The once coastal-facing defense of Plaza de Armas now features beautiful gardens,
Evocative vast courtyards & bubbling fountains yield a pathway that seldom straightens

A Picasso museum visit is unmissable on the itinerary for anyone visiting Malaga,
The stamp of conceptual brilliance seen in the exhibits makes art lovers go gaga,
The manner in which cubism art has been displayed is thoughtfully amazing,
Picasso's  genius is reflected in his works and was perhaps his way of proclaiming

The majestic Cathedral de Malaga is situated right in the historic town's center,
A blend of Gothic, Renaissance & Baroque architectural styles adds to the splendor,
The grand marble staircase and a beautiful assortment of frescoes are a visual treat,
The vast colonaded nave, housing an enormous cedar-wood choir stall, is no mean feat

The Carmen Thyssen Museum is located in an aesthetically renovated 16th-century palace,
It features an unique cocktail of paintings with thematic variations, not in the least hapless,
The almost cartoonish costumbrismo paintings are a throwback to 19th-century Spain myths,
That depicted fiestas, banditry, flamenco, bar-room brawls as if 'twas the work of a jokesmith!

Beaches in Malaga are characterized by dark, long stretches of sand skirted by lofty palm trees,
With boarded promenades, shorefronts are adorned with colorful parasols, wafting in the breeze,
Visitors swarming the beaches can be seen lazing in hammocks while basking in the sunshine,
Having all the trappings of a sunbather's paradise, that can be seen along the entire coastline

Ever experienced walking along a walkway dangling up to 100 meters in the air?
Its Caminito del Rey, pinned along the steep hills of a narrow gorge - indeed rare,
Parts of the route clinging recklessly to the sheer rock face of the gorge are awe-inspiring,
While completely safe, the linear 8-km walk can cause vertigo and culminate in respiring

This walkway was once dubbed the most dangerous hike in Spain - yet, so far from reality,
Multi-layered landscapes encompass reservoirs, mountains, gorges & valleys in totality,
The accompanying guide regales trekkers with the canyon's fascinating history and folklore,
While numerous selfie-worthy clicks of the breath-taking dizzy views, are like never before

Malaga is centric for day trips to Tangier, Morocco and The Rock of Gibraltar,
It is one of the few European cities that experiences a relatively warm winter,
It's coastal location with the Mediterranean Sea wind makes summer less oppressive,
Loaded with history and a multi-layered past, is what makes the city so impressive

Malaga is a typical port city that epitomizes Andalusian lifestyle to the fullest,
The warmth and camaraderie displayed by locals can be experienced at its best,
Streets and by-lanes are always pleasantly crowded with folks in colorful attire,
A wholesome feeling of utmost satisfaction at the trip's end, is for all to aspire

Make your way on over
don't need to bring nothin'
apart from your best clothes -
I'll work away your worries,
breathe away your woes.

It wasn't what I confessed,
god looks upon me
but I'm far from being blessed.
My heads in a spin,
fingers jiving and jigging
my mind focusing on your soft chin.

Blue eyed monster,
black hair chasing down your back
body to die for,
my heart beating
like a race-horse on a track.

You're chemical treasure
You're tainted but ****,
I'm a Lykos for pleasure
show us your prize
and I'll show you mine.

Blood-red lips, sleek, unmissable
soft pale skin
so smooth, so kissable.

Make your way on over -
I'm a Lykos for pleasure,
a predator for treasure,
and a hungry wolf in full fledged measure.

he loves her and she loves him
and it's a crash, a crack, an unmissable
climatic anticlimax
and there's all this emotion spilling like
god filling
up his canister with darkness and light
from a strange source
like a spring of ill feelings but an
oasis of happy
a clash of the mind and an inability
to express because
he loves her but doesn't love me

i can still remember the old days
in london, back
when newspapers were not friendly
in terms of allowing a reading
while commuting -
the giants of the days of lore -
now only the daily telegraph stands
firmly conservative (never mind
the content) - back when the guardian
(left-wing stance of politics) and
the times (middle ground swaying
either way) and the above mentioned
right-wing newspaper measured
a grand 23" by 29" in length -
you ended up reading the first page
and maybe snippets of all the other pages,
on a crowded tube train with maximum
capacity being reached
you couldn't exactly spread your wings
like an albatross - god the hell of it -
now only on sunday will the times
print like the old-guard, and it's a quiet
reminiscence of sorts:
so typical of the solitude, the solo way
of observing - furious that i couldn't
find the news review section, to be later
informed that they put it together
with the main news -
and really, there's nothing intelligent about
televised news, there's no selection,
no secondary editing process where you
can pick out what you want to be
informed about -
on the television the news ends with a cute
baby monkey, or some other uplifting tale
from the animal kingdom,
the pandora's box lid or some **** -
probably influenced by darwinism -
the twist in the tale is that, at least,
newspapers allow you to edit and not be
spoon-fed, and they don't end the print
with some lovable tale to hide all the
grey horror prior -
i.e. 'and on a lighter note'... no, none of that,
they end with an opinions' section,
and if you're lucky to be reading
the sunday times you'll have the only
journalism that matters, well at least to me,
the review - interesting stuff in there -
a daily build-up of nearly unmissable
encyclopaedic series on entries of the odd
little curiosities.

The Passage of Time

Verse 1

To experience the seasons brought therein

To elaborate beyond where we begin

To gravitate through intricated ways

To thus behold the miracle of days

To belong, to be loved, to be more than enough

May souls align with blessings from above



Chorus

There’s no measure, I will treasure

All in my life, of which come to mind

With due reason, it is the season

For embracing the passage of time

The passage of time



Verse 2

So invaluable are moments from the heart

The yearning for, in times we spent apart

May we reconcile all undelivered peace

Let all creativity of soul release

To belong, to be loved, to be more than enough

May souls align with blessings from above



Chorus



Bridge

Times unmissable, undeniable

Let us capture the joy, it’s so plentiful

Change is pivotal, live empirical

Let’s savour this moment in time



Chorus



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

So, another day of it.
The clock an instrument that ****** you
with its skeletal finger,
and now the night crawls up, covers
the town before dinner, the cold
licking your skin the way it can
every October.

You haven’t been yourself.
You’ve been stumbling,
legs like lead pipes, head
pulsating, unmissable signal.
Stand -
a conker crack scurries
     across the skull.
Sit -
pulse in ear, gut gurgling
     just as a long-blocked sink.

Sleep is a taste of petrol,
appetite so far gone
you expect postcards.
But at least the night crawls up,
delicately, coldly.

Beauty is unmissable
stands eternally sure.

That smile once smiled
can never not be.

Some puffs later and
the world fills with a quality
of Self

The Immortal wishing to see
the Mortal at play, with its little *****,
starts and stops, tries and meanderings,
a spectacle exotic and wondrous,
the tangy taste of temporal existence,
an unmissable show.
It reaches out for Life
just as we reach out to the Beyond;
a chasing; a swirl; a dance.

Howling in love
as the steps live.

Such gifts that cannot be held
it has to give, uncountable, luminous,
some so bright that could banish
the rooms of fragile shadow play,

until the hands recognize the light
as themselves.

I am the alien from the 108
You are my cosmic bound
We met high up above
There is a layer of God on top
That's why this thread around our bodies
this golden thread that will make us choke

And sure I changed your life
and sure you changed mine
I am the alien from the 108 - pink hair
turbulent eyes, a explosion of chaos

Now we can really join - we are apart
This universal force takes a toll
on unexpected passengers in that road
those who live through it but did not know
Those who can see but are still small
smaller than the energy generated
that confuses and clears the vision field

Now I am broken down
and full throttle!
We are bigger than the world
we are fire, we are a unmissable link
this doesn't rhyme now
no need for it
we rhyme perfectly
our needs they used to meet
we rhyme to the point we bleed

The
Unmissable speck
Foreign body, so small,
Invisible to all
Just a couple of molecules
Barely a cell
With a name
Now labeled Chinese,
Emerged from a bat
Eaten
Or perhaps a
Lab in Wuhan,
Has taken over
Life and limb.
It has split,
Ever seen a cell divide?
Amazing.
Life
And we politicize.  
Long as you white
You can carry ak47s into the
Governor's mansion
Dressed in white or
Like the toughest
Guerillas or warriors.
When a man
Traveled 1800 miles
To volunteer
Gets taken home in a casket,
It's time to get real.
And the checks from the corporation
Sponsored protests get cashed
With old people dying
In homes alone.
It's about the machine, don't
You know.
The gears keep on grinding the
The bottom teeth we are.  
Our weakest are the pawns
On this table made for sacrifice.
I want to call checkmate,you win.
Little speck.